"Hello. Are Those Roses?" Let The Connections Begin

“Connecting with others in conversation is one of the simplest ways to improve your well-being, yet people routinely avoid it.”

“A simple conversation can reveal that strangers are far less strange than we imagine.” Dr. Nicolas Epley

Yesterday I was enjoying a belated birthday lunch with two friends at Pybus Market in Wenatchee, one of those lovely lingering lunches where nobody seems eager to leave. One of my friends had brought flowers to share.

As we were finishing up, a couple walking by paused to admire them.

The man asked a simple, almost silly question for anyone who is even a tiny bit into flowers.

“Are those roses?”

My friend warmly smiled. “No, they’re peonies.”

Then she added that her husband’s parents had once grown a large field of peonies and that keeping these flowers around felt like carrying on a family legacy.

That tiny exchange opened us all to a different type of human nourishment which is undervalued and absolutely essential for the most social creatures on the planet. Connection.

Soon we were introducing ourselves. Familiar places surfaced. Shared interests emerged. Stories followed. Before long, these strangers had become warmly familiar human beings with histories, passions, and surprising points of intersections (A really lovely, gratifying story about John when he practiced dentistry surfaced).

Driving home, I kept thinking about how easily that moment might never have happened.

They could have admired the flowers silently and kept walking. We could have smiled politely and returned to our lunch. Everyone could have remained in their tidy little social lanes.

Instead, one simple question created an entirely joyful human experience.

Nicholas Epley, a behavioral scientist at the University of Chicago, would not be surprised.

In his recent book Talk: The Science of Conversation and the Art of Being Ourselves (published as Hello in the UK), Epley argues that many of us are living with a subtle but costly misunderstanding about other people (and ourselves!).

We think they want to be left alone. We think conversation with strangers will be awkward. We think keeping to ourselves is the safer, more comfortable choice.

We are often wrong.

One of Epley’s most fascinating studies involved commuters. Participants predicted they would rather ride quietly than strike up a conversation with a stranger.

Understandable. Morning commuters are not exactly known for exuberant sociability.

But when researchers actually encouraged people to talk, something surprising happened. They consistently reported enjoying the experience more than expected. They felt happier, less awkward, and more connected. Life felt better. More meaningful.

That finding is both charming and a little sad. Because it suggests many of us are walking around unnecessarily deprived of small moments of human joy.

Epley’s larger point is that modern humans are under-socialized. Not anti-social. Not incapable of connection. Simply under-socialized. Even though we may be around a lot of people.

We have built lives of extraordinary convenience and curious isolation. We scroll while waiting. We avoid eye contact in airports. We stand in checkout lines inches from one another while mentally inhabiting entirely different worlds.

Phones have become emotional shields. Efficiency has replaced spontaneity.

And all the while, we may be becoming less healthy and less happy. This is not just sentimentality. The research is substantial.

The famous Harvard Adult Development Study has repeatedly found that strong relationships are among the clearest predictors of long-term happiness and health. Loneliness researcher Julianne Holt-Lunstad has shown that chronic social isolation carries real health risks. Stephen Porges’ work helps explain why positive human interaction can calm the nervous system and improve our sense of safety and well-being.

Human beings are relational creatures. Connection is not decoration. It is life for us.

Epley’s particular contribution is showing how much connection may be available in ordinary life if we stop assuming the worst.

Because another fascinating finding is this: we not only underestimate how enjoyable conversations will be—we underestimate how open other people are to having them.

We think, I don’t want to bother them.

Meanwhile, they may be just as open to connection as we are. That is the tragic little misunderstanding. Everyone waits. Nobody wants to intrude. And unnecessary isolation wins.

Of course, not every stranger wants to chat. Not every grocery line should become a support group. Some people genuinely want quiet, and bless them.

But Epley’s research suggests we have tilted far too heavily toward social caution.

This reminds me of being in New York City years ago.  John started talking to those people on the subway with their heads down. 

I was horrified.  You can’t do that in NYC!

Well, I was wrong.  Turned out that both the crusty and upper crust seemed to thoroughly enjoy the friendly lunatic from Washington state. Everyone around us was talking and laughing by the time we came to our stop. And so were we. And those blue collar-no-nonsense crusties and professional-white-collar upper crusts had dissolved into real folks.

And that points to another quiet benefit other than all this joviality.

When people become human to us, even briefly, they become harder to dismiss, stereotype, or fear. Not because every casual conversation solves social problems, but because stories soften abstraction.

The couple at Pybus were no longer simply “people walking by.” They became people with names, histories, interests, and stories worth hearing. That is good for communities. That is good for our country.

And even more immediately, it is good for our own hearts.

I suspect many of us are not starved only for profound relationships. We may also be starved for ordinary human warmth.

A hello. A shared laugh. A spontaneous conversation. A small reminder that the world contains friendly people.

That we belong among other humans. That life feels richer when we participate in it.

Perhaps Epley’s invitation is surprisingly simple:

Look up and around.

Comment on the flowers.

Ask the question.

Risk thirty seconds of possible awkwardness. (Remember you don't need a brilliant conversation opener.)

You may discover, as we did yesterday, that the stranger beside you has a lovely story to tell. And perhaps that you needed it more than you realized. It was the highlight of my day - this lunch with my friends and the people we met; it was about the only thing I shared with John about my day when we debriefed later.

And here’s one more little secret I have found.  It’s easier and more fun to do when you have a lot of years to celebrate. Another lovely advantage of ripening. Ok, it might be advantageous to be a little quirky too. But, this will surprise you. According to Epley these little risky encounters are just as enriching and enlivening for those who consider themselves introverts as for others. And another little tidbit (I don't have time to develop this - you can listen in to an interview with Nick on behavioral grooves or buy the book) is that these connections can be even more powerful when we share something meaningful about ourselves - like my friend did about her husband's family and the legacy of peonies.

How might we journey together to the good life by taking advantage of all our little ordinary opportunities to start a conversation and become healthier, happier, and more connected?

For people who may be like me a little flower identification challenged and want to know what peonies look like. But the whole point here is to challenge the idea that we have to say something clever if we are to open our mouths. Yay to the fellow who contributed to the highlight of my day with "Are those roses?"

Click on the link here to see a short (like 4 minute video of Nick Epley talking about the commuter research). He will make it perfectly clear that the reason people were not doing something that would clearly make them happier is because they did NOT believe it. Our expectations, our beliefs need revamping. Maybe he can convince us to try a little experimenting ourselves.