Connection

“The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others.”— Mahatma Gandhi

At my daughter’s dance recital yesterday, I saw the power of connection made visible.

A dad nearby was watching his daughters perform a duet—eyes locked in, chest rising with emotion.

I know that feeling well. I felt it too, watching my own daughter glide across the stage, tears welling in my eyes.

A moment suspended in time.

When your child becomes an extension of yourself—moving outside your own skin, yet bound to you by something stronger than anything you can name. I imagine every parent in that theatre experienced that.

That’s connection.

In those rare, quiet moments, the invisible bond that connects us reveals itself.

It’s a vivid reminder of a truth we so easily forget: we are not separate.

That thread gets lost in daily frustrations—even with those we love most. (My daughter is a teenager, after all.)

If it’s rare to experience with those closest to us, how much harder is it to feel connected to people we don’t know or don’t agree with?

But the lesson is the same: when we slow down long enough to truly see each other—connection becomes possible.

And it’s desperately needed.

Because our world is optimized for speed and distraction. Which means it’s also optimized for separation and polarization.

Connection is the antidote. But it doesn’t happen without intention and sacrifice.

My Teacher

This was a special week for me.

I met my coach Dennis in person for the first time after four years of phone calls —no Zooms, no FaceTime, just voice.

He lives in Oregon, but let me know he’d be passing through Chicago. What he didn’t say is that he came just to see me.

We spent six hours talking in person. It’s hard to recall another time in my life, where I’ve talked with one person so deeply, so effortlessly, for so long.

We discussed the world, philosophy, our favorite thinkers. Hours melted away.

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received from coaching—and from Dennis in particular on this day—is the deeply felt sense of being accepted and encouraged by someone who knows everything about me. Even the parts I’d be embarrassed—or ashamed—to admit to someone else.

At one point, our connection hit me so powerfully I had to excuse myself. I was overwhelmed with emotion.

That’s how rare it is.

Our connection helped me unlock doors in my mind I didn’t know were closed. To peer into places I once feared, and discover that my real strength was in the looking.

The light Dennis shares is love. There’s no other word for it.

Love is why the power of connection is so profound.

And it’s why disconnection leaves us feeling empty. Lonely. Depressed.

Connection is the antidote.

Heroes

Last year, seven friends joined me in the Chicago Triathlon to raise money for epilepsy research.

Training for a race is hard enough. Asking for donations on top of that takes even more energy.

I had never experienced that kind of selfless support for something so personal to me.

This year, we have 43 people on our team of “Heroes,” named in honor of the epilepsy nonprofit we’re supporting.

43 busy adults. Many of whom I had never met and each with families, careers, responsibilities. All carving out time to train and raise awareness.

All sacrificing their most precious and non-renewable resource: time and attention.

None of them asking for anything but I know what they will get in return.

Beyond the money and the physical transformation, the most lasting gift is the connection.

To each other. To a shared cause. To a community many of us didn’t know before.

And most importantly, to something bigger than ourselves.

The paradox is this: when you sacrifice without expectation, you gain something deeper. Something invisible, but lasting.

The sense that you gave your best energy—your time and attention—to something that truly matters.

That is, in many ways, the purest form of love.

The Antidote

We live in a world that constantly pulls our attention away from each other.

Notifications. Deadlines. Screens. The pressure to achieve.

It’s easy to drift into separation. Easy to forget what matters.

But connection begins within.

Before we can truly connect with others, we must reconnect with ourselves—through stillness, breath, and presence.

In those quiet moments, we remember: we’re not separate. We’re part of something greater.

From that rooted place, connection flows outward.

In a glance. A kind gesture. Going out of our way to lend a hand.

These small moments ripple through the invisible web that binds us.

They matter—especially now.

Because the ache of disconnection is tearing at our shared humanity. Loneliness, polarization, anxiety—these are the symptoms.

The cure is simple, but not easy: reclaim your time and attention and offer it freely.

To yourself. To those you love.

And—maybe most importantly—to a stranger.

We don’t need to fix everything. But we do need to wake up to the power of these moments.

Because they are how we heal. One real moment at a time.

– Coach Kris

P.S. After settling onto this week’s theme yesterday morning, I took a break and went to play some music on Spotify through my sonos app which has a weird way of shuffling my music and playlists.

In a moment of wonderful synchronicity, the first playlist was one I don’t recall ever making called “Connection” and there was only song on it.

Apparently I was meant to share it. It is an ideal soundtrack to reflect on this topic. (Spotify Here)

Kris and Dennis.

With my daughter Sydney at her recital.