Letters to Myself: Entry Twenty-Five
Prompt: What One Brief Conversation Taught Me About Being Present
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be present. Not just physically there, but actually connected, grounded in the small moments that remind us we’re alive. This reflection is about one of those moments, the kind that catches you off guard and ends up changing the way you want to move through life.
Recently, I answered a prompt that asked me to reflect on a moment where I felt fully immersed. Where I wasn’t distracted, but completely present in an experience. I didn’t have to think long about which moment to write about, because there’s one that’s still sitting with me days later.
Recently, I went to a concert, an indoor EDM show with a crowd that feels more like a living, breathing community than a crowd. During the show, I slipped outside for some air and ended up surrounded by a whole new kind of atmosphere: one that was softer, more curious, a little quieter but still full of energy. I stood there, taking it all in. The night air, the clicked lighters, the little pockets of laughter, the Halloween costumes. I wasn’t trying to be anywhere else.
That’s when someone approached me. A woman I’d never met. She just started talking. No pause, no hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And for a moment, time froze. There was no phone in sight, no awkward introduction, no pretense. Just presence. Just connection.
At one point, she called what she was doing a “side quest.” She’d wandered off from her friends just to see where the night might take her, and I realized I’d done the same. We became each other’s unexpected detours. And as small and fleeting as it was, it meant something. It reminded me how easy it is to be human with someone. How little you need to form a memory that sticks.
What made it meaningful wasn’t just what was said, it was the absence of distraction. There was no pressure to perform or impress. No looking for a way out. No need to be anything other than a curious person talking to another curious person. Looking back, I recognize how rare that is in a world that’s always speeding forward.
And I want more of it.
I want to be the one who approaches. The one who asks the question, or makes the random comment, or steps a little outside the comfort zone. I want to live with the kind of openness and bravery she showed me that night, and not just to meet new people, but to meet new parts of myself.
We forget sometimes that learning doesn’t just come from books, or work, or our internal thoughts. Sometimes it shows up in the form of a stranger in a cloak on Halloween, or a moment of silence in a loud room, or a side quest we didn’t know we needed.
And honestly? It’s pretty great.
This post is part of my "Letters to Myself" series — a weekly free-write blog where I explore personal growth, curiosity, and healing through simple prompts. Sometimes reflective, sometimes fun, but always real. Thank you for being here.
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Photo by Kyle Gare
