v.5 On Connection: A Stranger At Union Station *a must-read, feel good essay*
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll. Because though life can sometimes be shit—we don’t always need to live there. [And wisdom, humor and community can help.]
Fresh from delivering a talk about values and beliefs to a group of brilliant folks, I was waiting for my train back to New York in D.C.'s Union Station when I met someone extraordinary. An elderly man sat down next to me—really strong ancestor energy. Wise, grounded, and with a sweetness that felt rare in a world full of rushed encounters. His name was (is) James, and in the next 20 minutes, he managed to offer me the kind of perspective you rarely find in a near-stranger.
We started talking about Union Station itself, the history woven into its walls, the people bustling around us, and the randomness of the day-to-day. The conversation easily shifted to Grand Central Station (NYC) and Penn Station (NYC), comparing the energy of these places in two of the East Coast’s busiest cities. But it was the way James talked—full of stories, rich with experience, and patient in a way that reminded me to take a breath and listen. Not just to him, but to the world around me.
A gorgeous tree canopy at Grounds For Sculpture in Hamilton, NJ that shared the same energy as this encounter in D.C.
Eventually, I asked him which train he was waiting for, hoping we might be on the same one. And with a soft smile, he looked at me and said, “Oh, I’m not waiting for a train. I live about six blocks from here, and since I’m retired, I just come here and hang out a few days a week. And sometimes, I get lucky enough to meet somebody like you.”
I was taken aback—not just by the kindness of his words but by his approach to being present in this imperfect world. He could’ve easily slowed down and enjoyed his retirement in the quiet of his home but instead, he chose to become an active participant in his lifelong neighborhood. He didn’t rush. He wasn’t trying to get anywhere. He was simply showing up, open to the possibility of connection, like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was a gentle reminder: sometimes, there’s no destination. Sometimes, it’s just about being present and finding joy in the unplanned moments. (Thanks, James.)
Moments later, my train pulled in, and James gave me a gentle nudge to join the line before it got too long. I waved and thanked him for the conversation, fully intending to head straight onto my train. But as I reached the unmoving line, I glanced back a few times to see his seat empty, that quiet moment of sadness that the conversation was over washing over me. And just as I turned back a 3rd time, I looked up to see James standing above me on the upper level, waving enthusiastically. I waved back, grinning, and we exchanged a few more waves and smiles as he made his way out, his warm energy lingering long after he left.
A woman in line beside me noticed and said, “That’s so sweet! My dad used to do the same thing. Was that your dad?” I smiled, shaking my head. “Nope, just a nice man I met while waiting for the train.” Ancestors, man—they show up everywhere for us.
We don’t always need deep history to have meaningful connections. Sometimes, all it takes is showing up in the moment, open-hearted, and willing to share a little part of ourselves. And just maybe, if we’re lucky, we find ourselves more grounded, joyful and present, in the process.
So here’s my invitation to you: next time you’re waiting somewhere, look around. Be open to connection, even with a stranger. Say hello, ask a question, or simply listen. You never know who might be there, what stories they carry, or how they might leave you feeling a little lighter and a lot more open to all that is possible.
Every essay will feature a section called “One Fine Microjoy” – an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst life’s ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
Today’s microjoy: Receiving a message from my young adult nephew with this simple note: 'I told you I could cook. LOL,' along with a photo of rice, beans, ceviche, pickled onions, and skirt steak! (I want to honor his privacy so no picture but I promise, it looked LUSH!) It’s a microjoy that captures the simple pride of self-discovery and shared growth. There's something joyful in seeing others step confidently into new skills, no matter the size. It’s a reminder to celebrate these moments—the ones that say, 'Look, I did this!'—and the happiness of sharing life’s wins together.
Welcome to Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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