Have We Lost the Art of Connection?
And Why I Love Writing (Particularly on Substack)
A couple of weeks ago, I went to an ecstatic dance, hoping I would finally find people who felt like me. A place where I could drop my guard and step outside the corporate world I live in every day. We played connection games. It was fun, it was light. Then we danced, and it was fine.
Afterward, everyone decided to go out for lunch. I joined too, expecting to talk about the experience or share something real. But very quickly, the conversation shifted. Gossip about other people. Who was sleeping with whom. One guy even pulled out a tarot deck to try to chat up a girl. It was everything I thought I had gone there to escape. And I sat there thinking, this is what passes for connection?
Last week I tried again. This time it was a women’s circle. It was a nice safe space, but what I realized is that real connection cannot be fit into a format. The structure was thoughtful, but it also left little room for the kind of natural exchange I was craving. When I shared, there was no space for others to respond or for conversations to flow in the moment. It made me see that while circles like this serve an important role, the real connection I long for often happens in the in-between, the unscripted moments, the conversations that unfold without rules.
But I also know that connection does not always happen where you expect it. A few months ago, I went to a somatic workshop by a therapist. The workshop itself was fine, there was no space to talk during it. But afterward, a group of us stayed for dinner. At first, it was just chit-chat, but eventually only four of us were left. One of the women and I went deep quickly. We talked about our lives, even about our traumas, and we laughed about how fast we landed there. I came away with a renewed sense of connection.
What also struck me was the mix of people. So often in wellness spaces, the crowd feels clicky, almost like a club. The same type of people, the same conversations. But at this dinner, it was different. There was variety. Women of all shapes, ages, ethnicities and walks of life. And maybe that is why it felt so alive.
It made me realize that:
Real connection is not something that can be forced into a format.
It happens when it is chosen, when there is openness and consent, when you sit across from someone whose life is very different from yours and still you meet in truth.
We live in a world fluent in confession. Social media makes it easy to share, to unload, to put our lives out there. But confession does not equal connection. Connection requires reciprocity. It requires being able to hold space for someone else and meet them halfway.
I am fortunate to have a husband I can turn to when I need to be held in that way. He does not always get it perfectly, but the space is there and I do not take that for granted. But I think about people who do not have that. People who are alone, or whose closest relationships cannot meet them in their depth. Where do they go?
So many turn to social media. They scroll, they post, they consume. They get fragments of intimacy, but more often than not, it leaves them emptier. It gives the illusion of closeness, but not the thing itself. That is what worries me. That we are all desperate for connection, but the places we are seeking it in are draining us instead of nourishing us.
For me, writing has become the place I feel most connected. Not Instagram or Facebook, where everything feels like performance, but here, on Substack. When I share here, I do not feel like I am throwing words into the void. I feel like they land. Someone writes back, or quietly reflects, and in that small exchange, I feel seen.
It reminds me of the nights I have sat with close friends or partners talking into the night about our dreams, traumas, fears and wishes.
The world needs more spaces designed for inclusivity, for organic interaction, for connection that is real, offline, in person, and without judgment. What form that takes, I am not sure. Women’s circles are a start, and I am glad they exist. Substack is a silver lining and I hope it doesn’t lose its essence. But we also need bigger, non-structured circles, more intimate spaces, fluid gatherings where people can just meet each other honestly. Because even a simple conversation can change a life.