Hi friend, What’s your natural preference for conversations: an intimate one-on-one, or a group? I prefer one-on-ones. I like the back and forth, where I can read the other person’s energy, notice what lights them up, and sense how the conversation is landing. Groups were a different story, especially earlier in my career. I remember being at the office for potluck day. Six of us were sitting around a table with our empty plates pushed aside, swapping stories and laughing. I had stories, too, and more than once I opened my mouth to jump in. But every time, a little voice stopped me: Would anyone really care about that? So I kept listening, laughing, and asking questions. I was fully part of the conversation, but nobody walked away knowing much about me. Maybe you’ve done that, too. You think of something to share, then decide it’s not interesting enough and let the moment pass. I brought that same habit into leadership. When I started leading a team, I was genuinely interested in my people. I asked questions and wanted to understand them, but unless someone asked about me, I didn’t share much. Looking back, I wonder what that cost us. I knew them, but they didn’t really know me. They didn’t know my lessons learned, what mattered to me, or why I saw things the way I did. Recently, someone I work with told me how much they love being curious about people and letting people be curious about them. They described it moving around a whole group, with people asking questions, sharing stories, and learning about each other. I loved that. I talk a lot about being curious about other people, but that conversation reminded me of the other half: we have to give people something to be curious about. Someone might relate to your story. They might recognize a challenge you’ve faced or realize you care about the same things they do. One small comment in a group could turn into a great conversation later. But they need something to respond to. Being curious about someone is an invitation, and so is sharing a piece of yourself. I still love to listen, and I still prefer a smaller conversation. But I’m learning to give people a little more of me. If you’re like me, here’s something to try this week. The next time someone asks you a question, skip the quick answer and share a little more. Tell them why something matters to you, or what you’re excited about right now. And if you’re in a group, offer one small story, then notice who gets curious. Their questions might tell you something about them, too. So tell me: what’s something people would be surprised to learn about you? Hit reply. I’d love to get to know you a little better. Stay curious, Molly

This article answers the question: What is the best career advice for young adults? Answer: Molly Ketcham believes that helping others is one of the most powerful ways to create success. When we pay attention to what other people need and look for ways to contribute, we build stronger connections, deepen trust, and create opportunities that often return to us in unexpected ways. What Is the Best Career Advice for Young Adults? My husband, my twenty-year-old son, and I were recently on vacation. One morning over coffee, we began discussing the many options and possibilities that life offers, especially at a young age. It can be both overwhelming and exhilarating. As I thought about advice I wanted to give my son, I remembered a message I first heard decades ago from Zig Ziglar. What Did Zig Ziglar Teach Me? When I was in my mid-twenties, I was employed by the Pueblo Convention Center as an event manager. The city was hosting an event for a highly successful professional speaker whom I was just learning about: Zig Ziglar. I stood in the back of the ballroom as he made the audience laugh, think, and lean in. Then he said something I have never forgotten: “You can have everything in life you want if you will just help enough other people get what they want.” At the time, it sounded like an inspiring quote. Over the years, I have come to see it as a practical strategy for creating success. Why Does Helping Others Create Opportunity? Helping others is not about keeping score or putting everyone else ahead of yourself. It is about beginning with curiosity. What does this person need? What problem can I help solve? How can I make this interaction more useful, encouraging, or meaningful? When we approach people with that mindset, trust grows. Relationships become stronger. And often, the goodwill we create comes back in ways we could not have predicted: an opportunity, an introduction, a lesson, or simply a deeper sense of belonging. How Has This Shaped My Life? I can look back and see how this principle has shaped my life in extraordinary ways. It has influenced how I volunteer in organizations, how I listen in conversations, how I serve clients, and how I show up for the people I love. Even a simple question, “How can I help?”, can change the direction of an interaction. That is why I shared Zig’s message with my son that morning over coffee. I have watched it prove true, decision after decision, year after year. What Can You Do Next? Whether you are beginning a new career, navigating a transition, leading a team, or simply trying to build more meaningful relationships, start here: Raise your hand. Ask how you can help. You may not know where it will lead right away. But helping other people get what they want has a remarkable way of leading somewhere good. See you at the top.

Why meaningful conversations don't have to cross professional boundaries. A few weeks ago, I asked a room full of meeting planners a question: What’s stopping you from getting to know the people you work with? I was giving a talk about using curiosity to build real connections with the people around us. The answers came back fast, and the same one kept coming up. They didn't want to "overstep." They didn't want to cross some invisible line and be seen as unprofessional or offend anyone. I've thought about that answer a lot since then because, honestly, I don't worry about this anymore. Somewhere along the way, I stopped being afraid of overstepping. What I do know is that my work got better when I started enjoying the people I worked with. And I couldn't truly enjoy working with people without getting to know them. I remember one client in particular. We had worked together for months. Every conversation was about room blocks, contracts, and timelines. Then one day I asked a simple question that had nothing to do with logistics. We started our call to review a report, and she apologized for being a few minutes late. Her team had been brainstorming how to merge two events, and the meeting ran long. So, before we launched into the report, I asked her, “Hey Anna, what do you enjoy most about your job?” “Oh!” She seemed slightly surprised by the question, and a little excited to think about it at the same time. She said, “I like the strategy of it. I know my job is a lot of logistics, but my favorite part is starting with the big picture. What are we trying to accomplish? Why are we holding this event? Those kind of questions. And then everything after that makes sense and provides more incentive for making it happen.” I replied, “How interesting. And it makes sense. Have you always been able to do that in the roles you’ve had?” Her answer gave me permission to ask another question. We talked about what drew her into the meetings industry, the events she was most proud of, and eventually the families we'd both missed dinners with during busy seasons. None of it felt forced. I hadn't asked anything deeply personal. I'd simply stayed interested long enough for the conversation to become meaningful. After that meeting, everything changed. The work became easier. We trusted each other more. As I think back to that moment, I wasn't trying to get personal. I was trying to get to know the person behind the project. So why does something that simple feel so risky? I think there are two reasons. Why We Hold Back If you've ever hesitated to ask a question like that, you're not alone. The hesitation isn't a flaw. It isn't a sign that you're bad at people, or too reserved, or behind the times. It's a rational response to a real and confusing set of signals we all receive at work. Researchers who study fear in organizations have found that employees routinely hold back speech and behavior, including the kind that builds relationships, out of concern for how it might land, even when no actual rule is being broken. Curiosity itself carries risk because it opens us up to rejection. That's uncomfortable for most of us. The Mistake We’re Making Here's the mistake I think many of us are making. We tend to use personal and meaningful as if they're the same thing. They aren't. Most workplace advice warns us away from deeply personal topics, and for good reason. But somewhere along the way, we started assuming that almost any question beyond small talk might cross a line. And we’re not just imagining it. Surveys have found that close to half of employees believe personal questions from coworkers are inappropriate, even though those same conversations happen all the time. That gap between belief and behavior creates uncertainty about where the line actually sits. And when we're uncertain, we tend to avoid it altogether. To be clear, this isn't about HR getting it wrong. Workplace training around boundaries and respect exists for good reasons, and it protects people. But caution created to protect a small number of genuinely sensitive topics has a way of spreading until many of us begin treating almost everything beyond small talk as off limits. Where the Line Really Is Looking back at my conversation with Anna, we never ventured into deeply personal territory. We simply moved from talking about the project to talking about what mattered to her. That's because conversations don't have to jump from surface-level to deeply personal. They naturally unfold in layers. Layer Example Question Perceived Risk Appropriate at Work Surface / factual “How long have you been in this role?” Very low Yes Preferences / opinions “What part of your job do you find most rewarding?” Low Yes Work-related feelings “What's been the hardest part of this quarter for you?” Low to moderate Yes, with rapport Values / identity “What drew you to this industry?” Moderate Yes, once trust is built Deep personal (health, finances, relationships, politics, religion) “Are you married? How much money do you make?” High Generally avoid unless invited Notice where most of our fears live. Almost every "don't ask this at work" question sits in that bottom row: salary, relationships, health, religion, politics. Those topics deserve caution. But connection is usually built in the four layers above, where people can share what they think, value, and enjoy without revealing anything deeply personal. A few more you can borrow, moving gently down the layers as the conversation opens up: "What's the best part of your day, usually?" "What made you want to work in this field in the first place?" "If you could change one thing about your day, what would it be?" None of these touch anything high-risk. They just ask for a little more than a status update. Follow Their Lead Researcher Amy Edmondson has a name for what’s going on here: psychological safety, the shared belief that it's safe to take a risk in front of the people you work with. When that safety is low, people default to whatever feels safest: small talk, silence, or sticking to business. That's not about who you are as a person. It's a read on the environment, and it can change as trust builds, one conversation at a time. So watch for it. Start at the surface. If they lean in, ask something back, or light up a little, that's your cue to go one layer deeper. If they stay short or seem guarded, stay right where you are. This isn't a script to push through. It's a conversation to follow. Why I Stopped Worrying About This Looking back, I think my comfort with curiosity came from watching leaders who built relationships naturally. I paid attention to how they listened, the questions they asked, the stories they shared, and the way their body language said, “You are the most important person in the room.” Little by little, I realized they weren't crossing professional boundaries. They were simply staying interested long enough for conversations to become meaningful. I don't think the culture around me changed. I think I did. We’re not carrying around a fixed rule that now applies everywhere. We re-establish it, relationship by relationship, based on how much trust exists with that specific person. That trust gets built through a track record: questions that landed well, conversations that were received with trust rather than suspicion. For me, the worry didn't disappear all at once. It slowly faded, one good exchange at a time, with specific people, in a specific kind of work. That's really the invitation here. Professionalism was never meant to shut curiosity down. It was meant to protect people from a narrow set of high-risk topics. Without meaning to, many of us simply widened that protection to cover everything, including the questions that would have brought us closer to the people we work with every day. Start at the surface. Watch how it lands. Go a little deeper when you're invited to. That's not overstepping. It's just showing someone you're interested in them. Because behind every project is a person. And getting to know the person behind the project is where real working relationships begin.

What is attunement, really? A lesson from the orchestra pit. Have you ever gone to a symphony early enough to catch the musicians before the show starts? They walk on stage, take their seats, and start warming up. Someone runs through a tricky passage. Someone else tests how their instrument feels under the stage lights. It's loud, it's chaotic, and it sounds like a room full of toddlers who just found a box of instruments. The first time I heard it, I thought, “this is going to be a terrible show.” Then the Concertmaster walks out, the orchestra's first violinist, and takes a bow. The whole orchestra goes silent. The Concertmaster turns to the principal oboist and gives a signal. The oboist plays one note: a pure, sustained A at 440 Hz. One by one, the sections join in. Strings first, then woodwinds and brass. Each musician listens to that single note and adjusts their instrument until it matches. That's not warming up anymore. That's attunement. Once every instrument is playing that same 440 Hz, the orchestra stops. And now they're ready to make music together. Human relationships work the same way. Attunement is the continual process of noticing another person's internal experience and adjusting yourself in response. As they talk, you pick up on their emotions, take in what they're saying, and shift your own words, tone, and body language to meet them where they are. You can hear this same thing happening in jazz. Musicians are constantly listening to each other, the rhythm, the feel, the flow, and responding in real time. One player offers an idea. Another echoes it, contrasts it, builds on it. That back-and-forth is what turns separate instruments into one conversation. Here's the cool thing: your brain already does this. Long before you consciously register someone's words, your nervous system is scanning their face, their tone, their posture, their pace. You've probably heard of mirror neurons, the reason we unconsciously mirror each other's expressions and emotions. Your brain is constantly asking, “Is this person safe? How are they feeling? How should I respond?” Attunement isn't a new skill you need to learn from scratch. It's learning to do on purpose what your brain has been trying to do all along. But your brain can only work with the signals it's given, and how many signals you get depends on the setting. On the phone, you only have voice: words, tone, maybe some background noise that hints at their environment. In person, you get all of that plus their face, their posture, their energy. Think about the last time you walked into an important meeting. You noticed what they were wearing. Whether they stood to greet you or stayed seated. How they smiled…or didn't. And without realizing it, you adjusted, sitting up straighter, relaxing your shoulders, matching their pace. That was attunement. It shows up everywhere, not just in high-stakes meetings: Your child is crying. You notice, you listen, you adjust. A client seems hesitant. You notice, you listen, you adjust. Your spouse comes home unusually quiet. You notice, you listen, you adjust. Long before humans had language, we survived by reading each other, facial expressions, posture, tone, telling us who was safe and who wasn't. Attunement isn't a modern communication trick. It's one of our oldest survival skills, and it's still running quietly in the background of every conversation you have. The choice in front of you is simple: stay locked on your own agenda, or notice, listen, and adjust to the person across from you. Attunement is the process of noticing, listening, and adjusting to another person. Just like an orchestra tuning to that first note, it's what makes it possible for two people to actually play in the same key.

The lesson I didn't know I was teaching. There I was, dancing in the middle of the sidewalk to a Diego song playing from my three-year-old's Big Wheel. I looked around for a second, wondering if the neighbors could see me. Then I figured, you know what? It doesn't matter. My son, Adam, didn't care who was watching him dance in the middle of the sidewalk. He just cared that I was out there dancing with him, and that was what mattered. The things we do as parents of young children, right? We pretend to eat plastic food at tiny tea parties like it’s a five-star meal. We make animal noises in the grocery store because someone in the shopping cart wants to know what a giraffe sounds like. We crawl around the living room on all fours searching for dinosaur eggs. We wear superhero capes, read the same book for the hundredth time, and stop everything to admire a bug on the sidewalk. Why do we do all that? Because we know it matters. It helps our kids learn, builds their confidence, fires up their imagination, and creates memories they'll carry forever. But more than anything, those moments tell them something important: you matter enough for me to step into your world. When Adam was little, someone mentioned that children hear the word “no” way more than “yes.” I don’t know if that’s exactly right, but it stuck with me. I didn't want "no" to be the first thing out of my mouth every time he asked for something. So, I changed my approach. Instead of leading with "no," I started with, "Thanks for asking." I asked a follow-up question. I said, “I see where you’re coming from.” Then, I shared my perspective or explained why I was hesitant. And finally, (and this is the part I really like,) I'd invite him to help me find a solution that worked for both of us. That might seem like a lot of work, but I had my reasons. I wanted to develop his character and his confidence. I wanted him to know his opinion and ideas mattered. I wanted to build a relationship where we solved problems together and where he could trust me, even when the answer wasn't what he hoped to hear. So instead of turning his request into a quick "no," I turned it into a conversation. Did he get really good at negotiating? Oh, absolutely. But here's the thing: he was also learning to listen, to understand another person's perspective, to think about what mattered to someone else, and to look for solutions that worked for everyone, not just him. As he got older, I started noticing him using these skills in other places too. Within a few days of each new school year, he seemed to figure out what was important to each one of his teachers – and they all valued something a little different. Once he understood that, he naturally adjusted how he interacted with them. He showed respect in the classroom and behaved the way each teacher needed, and that led to little moments of grace: flexibility with assignments around his sports schedule, a teacher who made sure to be available when he had questions, or a note home saying how much they enjoyed having him in class. As I watched Adam grow, I discovered we had been practicing something pretty amazing, and honestly, something much bigger than I realized at that time. Our conversations started with curiosity: What did he really want? Why was it important to him? Then came the harder part: listening well enough to actually understand his perspective, responding in a way that showed I heard him, and working together toward something we both felt good about. Looking back, those conversations were teaching both of us how trust gets built. Years later, as I began researching the science of human connection, I kept seeing those same patterns show up everywhere. Whether you're raising a child, leading a team, serving a customer, or building a friendship, the process is pretty much the same. That's what eventually became the CARA Code: a framework for using Curiosity, Attunement, Resonance, and Amplification to build trust and stronger relationships. It isn't just a parenting strategy. It's a human connection strategy. Now Adam is in his college internship. As he shares stories with me, I’ve learned that he’s doing the same thing he did growing up. He gets to know each manager, figures out what's important to them, and responds accordingly. People trust him because they know he'll take the time to understand them. And when he has an idea, a request, or needs support, those conversations flow with ease. As I watch him, I keep thinking back to that little boy dancing in the middle of the sidewalk. I stepped into his world because I wanted him to know he mattered. Now he's doing the same for others.

What happens when we stop comparing and start wondering A few months ago, I was sitting on my friend Jenny's back patio, coffee in hand, listening to her tell me about her Etsy business. She sells antiques. Now, if I'm being completely honest, antiques are not my thing. My first thought was, What is so exciting about old stuff? One person’s trash is…well…trash. But instead of dismissing it, I got curious. "What's your favorite part?" I asked. Her whole face lit up. "I love walking through the aisles," she said. "I'll pick something up and wonder where it came from. Who owned it? What memories are attached to it? Then I think about who might love it next." As she talked, I noticed something happening. Her voice became more animated. She smiled more. Her eyes sparkled. Then, when she talked about a challenge, her energy softened. When she talked about finding a special piece, her excitement came back. I wasn't interested at all in antiques. But I became fascinated by what fascinated her. That's when I realized I wasn't really listening to a story about antiques. I was listening to a story about Jenny. I was learning what mattered to her, what energized her, and how she experienced the world. For a few moments, I could see it through her eyes. And that's the moment attunement began. More Than Listening Most people think listening is about hearing words. Attunement goes a step further. It's paying attention to the whole person: their tone of voice, facial expressions, energy, and emotions. It's noticing what lights them up, where they hesitate, and how their body responds as they tell their story. When we're attuned, we're not simply collecting information from the words they say. We're tuning in to another person's experience. We're paying attention not only to what they're saying, but to what they're feeling. You've probably experienced the opposite. A friend shares something they're excited about, but you can't relate. Maybe the topic doesn't interest you, or your mind is somewhere else entirely. Instead of leaning in, you stay on the outside of the conversation. Attunement invites us to step inside their experience. We don't have to agree, share the same passion, or even understand it completely. We simply become curious enough to see it through their eyes. That's where connection begins. Curiosity Opens the Door Attunement begins with curiosity. Not the kind of curiosity that interrogates or tries to solve a problem, but the kind that genuinely wants to understand another person. As Jenny talked, I found myself wondering what had formed her love of antiques. Did she grow up around family heirlooms? Was there a grandparent who taught her to appreciate old things? Did she spend Saturday mornings wandering flea markets with her parents? Whatever sparked her interest, my childhood looked very different. I spent most of it climbing trees, riding bikes, and bossing my younger siblings around. Yet for a few minutes, I could imagine what it might feel like to walk through an antique store and see treasures where some people see clutter. That's what curiosity does. It helps us step outside our own experience long enough to appreciate someone else's. The moment we stop comparing and start wondering is often the moment connection begins. Curiosity invites us to slow down. Instead of deciding whether we agree, disagree, relate, or don't relate, we become interested. We start asking questions. We begin exploring. And in doing so, we often discover that people are far more interesting than we first assumed. Why Attunement Matters Here's something I've realized over the years: the more I understand the people around me, the easier it becomes to connect with them. When I understand what someone values, what motivates them, and how they see the world, I can communicate more effectively. I know when to ask another question, when to listen a little longer, and when to share my own perspective. Conversations become easier because I'm responding to the person in front of me rather than making assumptions about them. That doesn't mean we always agree. It doesn't mean we have the same experiences or opinions. It simply means we're creating enough understanding to build trust. When people feel understood, they relax. They open up. They are more likely to listen to your suggestions or instructions. It's also where better relationships begin. Whether you're talking with a coworker, a customer, a spouse, or a friend, people want to feel seen. They want to feel heard. They want to feel like what they're saying matters. Attunement helps us give that gift. And it is truly a gift. A Simple Challenge The next time you're in a conversation, try this: ask one question you genuinely don't know the answer to, and then listen. Listen not only to the words, but to the energy behind them. Notice what excites the other person. Pay attention to what lights them up. Listen for the story underneath the story. You might discover something new about them. And you might discover something new about yourself, too.

The meetings and events industry is built on experiences. We carefully design environments that shape how people feel. We think about room sets, menus, lighting, music, technology, attendee flow, and countless other details because we understand that the experience matters just as much as the content itself. Yet one of the most influential parts of any event experience is rarely listed on a planning timeline. It's the conversations. Whether you're working with a client, leading a team, collaborating with a supplier, engaging volunteers, or networking at a conference, every interaction creates an experience. Long after attendees have forgotten what was served at lunch or which breakout session they attended, they'll remember how people made them feel. Conversations Have a Rhythm As a classically trained pianist, I've always been fascinated by the way music creates emotion. A great piece of music doesn't begin with its most powerful moment. It unfolds. It captures attention, builds anticipation, creates tension and release, and ultimately leaves the listener feeling something. The best conversations follow a similar pattern. Over the years, I've come to think of conversations as compositions. Like music, they have a rhythm. They build. They create anticipation. And when handled well, they leave a lasting impression. This observation led me to develop what I call the CARA Code: Curiosity, Attunement, Resonance, and Amplification. While the framework is simple, its impact can be profound because it focuses on something many professionals overlook. Influence isn't created through expertise alone. It's created through the experience people have when they interact with you. Listening for What Matters Every meaningful conversation begins with curiosity. In our industry, it's easy for conversations to become transactional. We discuss timelines, budgets, room blocks, contracts, and deliverables. Those conversations are important, but they rarely build the kind of trust that leads to long-term partnerships. Trust begins when we move beyond logistics and become genuinely interested in the person sitting across from us. Years ago, I started asking clients different questions. Instead of focusing exclusively on what they needed, I became curious about why it mattered. What would success look like for them personally? What concerns were keeping them up at night? What pressures were they facing that weren't written in the RFP? The quality of the conversation changed almost immediately. People often assume curiosity is about gathering information. In the CARA Code, curiosity communicates value. It tells the other person, "You matter enough for me to want to understand you." But curiosity alone isn't enough. Many of us ask great questions and then immediately begin thinking about what we're going to say next. We hear the words, but we miss the meaning. That's where attunement comes in. Attunement is the ability to listen beyond the surface. It's noticing the excitement in someone's voice when they talk about a new initiative. It's recognizing hesitation when discussing a budget concern. It's hearing what isn't being said as much as what is. Musicians do this naturally. They are constantly listening and adjusting to one another. If one performer changes tempo or dynamics, the others respond. The music stays connected because everyone is paying attention. The same thing happens in conversations. When people feel that level of attention, their guard begins to come down. They stop wondering whether you're waiting for your turn to speak and start feeling confident that you're truly listening. And that's where resonance becomes possible. Creating Moments That Last Resonance is the moment when someone feels understood. You can almost see it happen. Their shoulders relax. Their expression changes. Sometimes they respond with a simple phrase like, "Exactly," or "That's what I've been trying to say." What's interesting is that resonance doesn't require agreement. You don't have to solve someone's problem or share their perspective. You simply need to demonstrate that you understand their experience. In leadership, client relationships, and team dynamics, this is often the moment when trust deepens. People become more open to ideas, feedback, and collaboration because they feel seen before they feel persuaded. This is a beautiful connection. But I’ll be honest, I’ve noticed that we tend to rush past these moments. We have another meeting to attend. Another email to answer. Another problem to solve. That's why the final step, amplification, may be the most overlooked. In music, motifs – or themes – often return throughout a composition. A melody introduced early in a piece reappears later, creating familiarity and emotional depth. Because the listener recognizes it, the music carries greater meaning. Relationships work the same way. Amplification happens when you revisit something that matters. You remember a challenge someone mentioned weeks ago. You follow up on an important goal. You acknowledge a contribution publicly. You connect a future conversation to something previously shared. These moments communicate a powerful message: "I heard you, and I remembered." For many people, that simple act is surprisingly rare. And its impact is immense. Influence Is an Experience The meetings and events profession has always been about creating memorable experiences. We do it every day for attendees, clients, sponsors, and stakeholders. Yet some of the most meaningful experiences we create aren't found in a ballroom or on a stage. They're found in ordinary conversations. The professionals who build the strongest client relationships, lead the most engaged teams, and create the greatest influence often aren't the loudest voices in the room. They're the people who make others feel valued. They lead with curiosity. They listen with attunement. They respond with resonance. And they strengthen relationships through amplification. Because influence isn't simply about what you know. It's about how people experience you. And every conversation is an opportunity to create an experience worth remembering.

"You have cancer, and you're not expected to live very much longer." That was the dream I woke up from this morning. Wow, talk about a wake-up call. I couldn't go back to sleep. I knew it was a dream, but lying there in the dark, the line between sleep and reality felt thin. What if it wasn't? I started thinking about my legacy and the impact I wanted to leave behind. How could I make the difference I want to make in such a short amount of time? And then my thoughts turned to my family, and this wave of gratitude just washed over me. Have I said everything I wanted to say? Have I been present enough? I suddenly wanted to reach over and hug my husband and not let go. Has this ever happened to you? Hopefully, if you're answering yes, it's because of a dream and not reality. But either way, that feeling is worth paying attention to. As I laid awake in bed, I thought about everyone who has received this kind of diagnosis in real life. Not in a dream. Not as a fleeting 3 a.m. thought, but as actual words from an actual doctor in an actual room. How hard that must be! If you're reading this and you've been close to this kind of experience, my heart goes out to you. I can only imagine the strength it takes to be faced with a life-threatening situation. "You're not expected to live very much longer." What would you do? Movies and country songs on this theme attempt to inspire us with this message. I've watched them. I've sung along to them. But there's a difference between being moved by the idea and being truly stopped by it, in the quiet of an early morning, when it suddenly feels personal. That's when the question gets real. Would you slow down? Would you call someone you've been putting off calling? Would you finally plan that trip, write that letter, say the thing you've been meaning to say for years? Would you let go of something that's been taking up too much space? These aren't easy questions. But they're important ones. And the beautiful thing is, you don't have to wait for a scary dream or a difficult diagnosis to ask them. Here is my invitation for you. Take a moment to zoom out on this life you're living, take a look at the big picture, and ask yourself what you might like to do differently. Then consider taking one small step in that direction. Connecting with yourself is just as important as connecting with others. And sometimes, it has to come first.

Recently I had a chance to tell my story, the exciting part where I walked away from a nearly twenty-year career in the meetings and events industry. I felt a desire to contribute to the world in a way that felt more purposeful for me. I found professional speaking and began building a business. While taking a class with NSA Ohio, the association for professional speakers, one of our instructors challenged us to create videos for social media. The video could be on any topic…it was simply an assignment to practice his lesson. It was the summer of 2020. And I didn't know my speaking topic yet. So, I took what was on my (and many people's) mind, and filmed a 30 second video. Happiness. We wanted it. We craved it. The world was in chaos; every day was filled with uncertainty and tragedy. A global pandemic brought us together, and it was as if we felt belonging and isolation at the same time. I viewed the assignment as an opportunity to bring a moment of joy to someone's day. And it turned out to be therapeutic for me as well. I started to think about what made me happy. I shared with anyone watching that sprinkles - specifically, on top of soft serve ice cream - make me happy. That was the fun element, but the gratitude exercise I experienced while developing the script was just what I needed on a solitary summer day in 2020. After sharing that story with a new class at NSA Ohio, I kept thinking about the importance of that question. We experience chaos and uncertainty every day. Whether it's from global circumstances, work or family challenges, or our personal efforts to reach the next achievement, it exists every moment of the day. How do you manage it? Stress, anxiety, depression…they impact our health and well-being in massive ways. And as someone who knows firsthand what high cortisol levels can do to your body, I'd like to take my own advice. What makes me happy? The answer is so much more than sprinkles on a soft serve ice cream cone. You know what's great about that question? Not only does it boost your mood, it helps you connect with others. When you think about something that brings you joy, you shift into a more positive mindset. You become more open, curious, and experimental. You're more likely to say hello to a stranger or reach out to that friend you haven't spoken to in a while. Practicing gratitude helps us see life from a different perspective. If the perspective we're living with isn't serving us well, I believe gratitude is a healthy place to start. Some people are experts on this. They write books and dedicate their lives to spreading the concept. Maybe it's time we actually listen. I closed my eyes a moment ago and thought of as many things as I could that I'm grateful for. My shoulders dropped. I let out a sigh of relief. The muscles in my face relaxed. That's powerful stuff. So, I'll ask you what I asked myself that summer: What makes you happy? Close your eyes. Take a moment. Your answer might surprise you.

Every so often, I have a conversation that lingers long after it ends. Not just because of the words exchanged, but because of what was felt. That’s exactly what happened during my podcast conversation with Dr. Paul Jenkins. We started with a topic I love: how curiosity creates meaningful connection. But what made this conversation special was the way Dr. Paul brought in the science behind what I’ve experienced intuitively for years. How the Energy of Connection Works Dr. Paul shared how everything in our world is vibration. Every person and every emotion carries an energetic frequency. Some frequencies align, while others clash. And when they align, that alignment is what we often describe as “feeling someone’s vibe.” This idea is something I describe through music. As a pianist, I talk about resonance, that moment when a song finds its way back to the tonic chord, the opening tone. Or, it’s that moment when a song hits the note that gives you goosebumps. Dr. Paul explained it in scientific terms. He talked about the physics of energy, how frequencies interact, and how our mirror neurons help us attune to one another. He said it so well that it made the science behind connection feel even more tangible. Resonance isn’t just poetic. It’s real. Why This Matters for Human Connection When we’re in conversation with someone, there’s more happening than words. There’s tone. Energy. Rhythm. Frequency. When we approach a conversation with curiosity, we begin to tune in. We shift from waiting for our turn to speak, to listening for what’s beneath the surface. When we attune to another person’s inner world, we naturally start to bring ourselves into their vibrational frequency. That’s where connection happens, not just in the content of what someone shares, but in the energy you can feel. I’ve seen this play out countless times. Whether it’s a leader connecting with their team, a sales professional talking with a client, or a parent trying to reach their teenager, the moment genuine curiosity enters the conversation, everything changes. Walls lower. Tension softens. And that shared frequency emerges. That’s why curiosity isn’t just a nice idea. It’s a real, measurable shift in energy. The CARA Code in Action This idea of resonance is woven into something I teach called the CARA Code. Curiosity is the opening note. It’s what draws us in. Attunement is the contrast and tension, the part of the song where we lean forward and really listen. Resonance is the chorus. It’s that “ah yes” moment when we’re fully in sync. Amplification is what happens when we build on that connection and carry it forward. Hearing Dr. Paul describe resonance through the lens of science confirmed what I’ve experienced both at the piano bench and in countless conversations. It felt like two worlds meeting: my world of curiosity and music, and his world of science and psychology. He gave language to something I’ve always felt. That’s what made this conversation so meaningful to me. It was a reminder that connection isn’t accidental. It’s something we can create with intention, curiosity, and presence. An Invitation If you’ve ever wondered why some conversations feel electric and others fall flat, I think this episode will resonate with you, too. It’s a conversation about science, but it’s also about humanity. About how we meet each other, how we create trust, and how something as simple as genuine curiosity can shift the energy in the room. 👉 Listen to the full episode here Then the next time you find yourself in conversation, try this simple experiment. Take a breath. Get curious. Tune in. Notice how it feels when you meet someone’s energy where they are. That’s resonance. And it’s where real connection begins.

This morning, I was looking at pictures and videos of my son when he was little. Now that he is 19 years old and has moved out of the house, I recognize that my perspective is slightly different. He moved into a dorm at college more than a year ago. The first ten months were challenging. I missed him so much. I cried a lot. My heart ached to have him back in the house. My heart was not only aching for him, but for that time when I was responsible for something big: a human. When he was little, I was raising him, sharing life lessons. Then in high school, I was guiding him, helping him get to adulthood. And one day, it was over. He left for college. That job was done. It's hard to know what life looks like when that job is complete. Now that a year has distanced me from it, and I look at the photos…the documentation of that time, I see it from a new perspective.  It was a lot of effort. You know that feeling when you get out of a tough situation that you’ve been experiencing for a while, and only when you get out of it, do you realize that it was tough? When you’re in it, it’s all you know. You’re doing what you need to do… to make it flow as best you can. Then you get through it, or over it, or out of it, and the weight is gone. You didn’t realize how heavy it was. I fully enjoyed my time raising Adam. I wouldn’t trade it for a different experience or do it any differently. I developed a strong bond with him, and I believe it was because of the effort. The support he received from me for his activities and his interests created a deep relationship. It's amazing to think of the ways we get out of our comfort zone or do things we wouldn't necessarily prefer to do, but we do them for our children. For me, it was playing in the snow, planning birthday parties at laser tag or go cart tracks, volunteering to be a soccer coach or soccer parent representative, sitting in the ski lodge while he snowboarded with his friends, loading bikes for a ride through the metro park, helping facilitate cold, rainy track meets, watching smoky drift car races, and the endless attempts to learn about computers... and networks... and cameras... and coding... and cars. All in the name of spending quality time with him to create a mutually beneficial relationship. My desire to have a strong relationship with him motivated me to learn new ways of raising him. Fortunately, I learned how to be curious through divorce therapy. Adam was only three years old at the time. I used that curiosity to help us both understand ourselves better. It also caused me to be open about raising him differently than I was raised. Instead of responding instinctively to him, I wondered if there was a better way to help him with his requests and challenges. I certainly didn’t get it all right. But based on the outcome – having the bond with him that I always wanted – I must have done something right. Looking through the photos at that wonderful, challenging time in my life, I am smiling through the tears. I miss having him around me. And I love that he wants to be around me.

Why Some Conversations Stay With You You know that feeling when you're in a conversation that just... clicks? Where you walk away thinking about it hours later, maybe even days? I had one of those moments on my friend Jenny's back patio. We were drinking coffee, and she was telling me about her new Etsy business - selling curated collections of antiques. She wanders through little shops, finds individual pieces, and groups them into displays for her online store. I'll be honest. My first thought was, What's fun about antiques?  One person's trash is... well, still trash, right? But something made me pause instead of brushing it off. Maybe it was the way she was talking about it. So I asked, "What is it that you love about this work?" She leaned back in her chair and paused, like she was searching for the right words. Then I watched something shift in her face. The corners of her mouth softened first, and then her shoulders dropped. It was like watching someone take off a heavy coat they didn't realize they'd been wearing. The smile that spread across her face wasn't polite anymore - it was genuine, almost dreamy. When she started talking, her voice dropped to this warmer, more intimate tone. "Oh, I just love to walk through the aisles, looking at all the treasures. I'll pick up a trinket, turn it around in my hand. I imagine the joy it brought someone before, and how I could help it do that again, in a new home." I could see her eyes getting brighter, almost sparkly. Her whole face was animated now as she continued to describe it. Then her tone shifted again, this time quieter, slower, like she was sharing a secret. "I am so lucky to be able to do this." And something shifted in me, too. I wasn't just hearing her words anymore. I was feeling the conversation. I found myself leaning in, noticing her rhythm, her tone, the emotion underneath everything she was saying. That's when it hit me: this is music. I've been playing piano since I was eight years old. And just like a song, conversations have notes and rhythm and flow. When the energy lines up, when you're both in sync, the whole thing moves you. That's what happened with Jenny. She was building this beautiful emotional moment, and I was right there with her, completely tuned in. When she finished, I said, "Wow. I think that's just wonderful." She smiled and let out this breath, like she'd been holding it. "Yeah... It's hard to explain, but you get it." Driving home, I couldn't stop thinking about it. That wasn't just a nice conversation. We had created something together - through rhythm and emotion and timing. Just like music. That's where the idea for what I now call the CARA Code came from. The Thing About Most Communication Advice So much of what you read about communication focuses on asking good questions or being a better listener. And yes, those things matter. But most conversations stop there. You end up with something pleasant but forgettable. Polite but not really impactful. What's missing is the music. That sense of rhythm, energy, and connection that makes a moment stick with you. The CARA Code is what creates that music. What Is the CARA Code? These four things happen when conversations feel alive: Curiosity Attunement Resonance Amplification Think of it like sheet music for conversation. Instead of stopping at "I listened well," it helps you create something that resonates and then carry it forward. The result? Conversations people remember. Conversations that build trust and connection, whether you're talking to your team at work, a potential client, or your best friend. The Four Parts 1. Curiosity: How It All Starts Every song begins with a note that sets everything in motion. In conversation, that's curiosity. With Jenny, when I asked, "What do you love about this work?" - that question opened the door. It wasn't nosy or pushy. It was an invitation for her to share something real. Real curiosity means asking questions that draw out what people actually care about. Their values, their passions, their stories. You're basically asking them to play their melody for you. 2. Attunement: Finding the Rhythm Music has tempo and tone, and that's what makes it interesting. Conversations are the same way. Attunement is about paying attention to how  something is being said, not just the words. Jenny's pauses, her slower tone, the way her eyes sparkled - those were all signals. When I tuned into that, I could match her energy. This changes everything at work, too. When you notice someone's stress or excitement or hesitation, you can respond in a way that helps them feel seen and understood. 3. Resonance: When You Land on the Same Note This is the moment when you and the other person connect emotionally. It might be shared laughter, or a look of recognition, or just a meaningful pause. With Jenny, my simple "Wow. I think that's just wonderful" wasn't anything special. But it reflected back what she cared about. And her response - "Yeah... it's hard to explain, but you get it" - that was us finding the same note. That's resonance. That satisfying moment when you both feel it. 4. Amplification: Making It Linger Great songs echo and stay with you. Amplification is following up on what resonated, so the connection lasts. Maybe it's going deeper with a follow-up question, or a “Tell me more” statement. Maybe it's bringing it up again in a future conversation, showing that what they shared mattered enough for you to remember. It's what makes people think, "I really enjoyed that conversation." Why I Keep Coming Back to Music Music moves us in ways that go beyond words. It's universal. And when you think about connection like music, it becomes easier to understand and remember. Every conversation is like a duet: Curiosity sets the tone Attunement finds the rhythm Resonance creates harmony Amplification makes it echo It's not about performing. It's about being present enough to create something real together. Where This Actually Works I've seen this play out everywhere: At work , when people feel truly heard, they open up more. They collaborate better. There's more trust within the team. In sales , clients don't just remember your pitch. They remember how they felt talking with you. That's what they buy. In regular life , it deepens everything. Friends, family, coworkers - everyone wants that "you really get me" feeling. The setting changes, but the principles stay the same. What I Learned That Day Sitting on Jenny's patio taught me something simple but powerful: the best conversations feel like songs. They have rhythm and harmony and something that stays with you afterward. The CARA Code isn't about scripts or clever lines. It's about being present and curious enough to create something real with another person. When you do that: People open up Trust happens faster Relationships get deeper Your influence grows naturally So here's what I'd love for you to try: turn your next conversation into a composition. Ask the question that opens the door. Pay attention to the rhythm. Feel for that moment of connection and express it. Then keep it going. Lead with curiosity, follow CARA, and create a connection that resonates. Want to see the CARA Code in action? I share this approach in my speaking and masterminds, helping leaders and teams build authentic connections. If you'd like to explore bringing this to your organization, let's connect .