More than half of American adults say that having close friends is essential to living a fulfilling life. And yet Americans (and many others) appear to be declining in social connection across measures over time.

How do we turn this around to cultivate connection?

On a brisk fall day at the campus of Harvard University, I gathered with global and national leaders to do just that!

For those addressing loneliness, isolation, and social connection for the Building Connected Communities action forum was such a powerful place of connection.

Sitting in the kitchen as a high school senior, I was tearing up again. Wet cheeks in my hand, I poured out my heart to my mom as she reheated dinner from the night before. I had started the semester hoping to be a social worker, impassioned about the vast injustices I saw in the world, and hoping to be a part of the change I had seen her be in the lives of so many children.

“I am just not sure I am strong enough for this,” I said, disappointed in myself.

“It’s OK honey, there are so many ways to help the world. You just need to find yours. And you will,” she told me calmly.

I recently had the honor of sitting down with the amazing NBC Texas Today host, Kristen Dickerson, to share ways to connect and how design can help heal loneliness.

Perched on white stool beside her, I was struck by something she said that is still rattling in my head today – that loneliness is such a sad word. And perhaps it is. I get it. No one wants to be lonely, and yet roughly 3 in 5 Americans are. Loneliness often feels like a personal fault, “what, no one wants to hang out with you?!” but that couldn’t be further from the truth, it is the trick that loneliness plays on our minds, and the way it grows in the darkness.

It’s back to school! I can’t believe my daughter just started a at a “big kid school”. We are all in our feels at the Casa de Peavey - excited, terrified, proud, and protective - and that’s just me!

Working on a card for her new teacher she hasn’t yet met, I ask “what message would you like me to write?” Cocking her head to the side and furrowing her brow, she considers, then looking up at me, says, “Dear Maestra… I love you so much… I hope you like me ok.”

I was recently talking with a friend describe a community that he works with, one that has been disinvested in, whose streets are filled with potholes and cracks, physical symbols of neglect. He was telling me that in their experience, they’ve seen that desperation is the culprit for so many ills, and that HOPE is the antidote.

It got me thinking about art can be a small, tangible symbol of hope in our lives. Art through dance, song, and brass bands like the second line in New Orleans that celebrates a newly wed couple. Or the beautiful murals that line the buildings down the street from me. Announcing to all – let there be hope. Let there be love!