A few weeks ago, I got a complaint from our neighbors that “you guys are laughing too loud.” I did not know whether to take it as a complaint or a compliment.
Because in today’s world, when AI is taking over and most of us are buried in our phones, the idea that a group of adults is laughing together loudly enough to disturb the quiet felt almost miraculous.
Every time you pass by our dance studio, you can hear laughter spilling into the hallway. Singing. Cheering. The kind of joy that makes people pause and think, What is happening in there, and why does it feel so rare?
That same evening, I paused during class, took a deep breath and looked around. In that brief stillness, I felt something unusual. A moment of genuine human connection in a world that feels increasingly fractured.
It hit me then.
We are lonelier than ever, yet craving connection more than ever.
And this is happening at a time when technology promises to keep us closer than ever. AI is advancing faster than our understanding of it. Machines are learning how to sound like us and even soothe us. We carry entire worlds in our pockets, but rarely look up long enough to notice the ones standing right in front of us.
We are living through a strange irony. We have never been more connected on paper, yet more disconnected in spirit.
Because connection does not come from information. It comes from presence.
Sometimes it does not arrive through grand moments. It arrives quietly. When someone shows up. Messy. Tired. Vulnerable. Willing.
The Loneliness We Do Not Talk About
A few months ago, a young woman walked into our studio for the first time. Petite. Terrified. She panicked within minutes and left.
The next day, she came back.
She took class, and afterward she burst into tears while hugging me. Not because of the choreography, but because it was the first time in six months of living in Seattle that she had stepped outside her home alone.
Today, she is surrounded by friends and lighting up the stage with confidence.
Sometimes connection begins with the courage to return the next day.
We Are Surrounded, Yet Alone
People often tell me, “I talk to people all day, but I still feel lonely.”
We are constantly reachable, yet emotionally unavailable. We are in group chats all day, but cannot name one person we would call in the middle of the night.
Phones have replaced presence. Scrolling has replaced speaking. And AI is stepping into spaces once reserved for human comfort.
Don't get me wrong. None of these are the enemy. But they cannot replace one another.
Because loneliness is not the absence of noise. It is the absence of being known.
Connection Is Built in Hard Moments
Last year, one of our dancers was diagnosed with breast cancer and rushed to India for emergency surgery. She missed the showcase, but fought to return in time to sit in the audience and cheer for her team.
She told me, “The biggest motivator for me to recover and get back on my feet was to be part of Live2Dance.”
Eight months later, she was back on stage. Dancing her fear into dust.
Technology can remind us we are sick. People remind us we are alive.
Human Connection is the Greatest Survival Tool
There is the student who lost his wife due to a prolongiled illness. He was close to ending everything for himself too. Instead, he stumbled into our studio. Not looking for dance. Looking for a reason to stay.
Weeks later, he stood in front of me with tears in his eyes and said, “Live2Dance is one of the reasons I survived.”
No app could have saved him. A room full of humans did.
The Paradox of Our Time
We have AI that can write poetry but no time to ask someone how they are
We have endless followers but very few witnesses
We have conversations with machines but avoid uncomfortable conversations with each other
The danger is not that AI will become more human, The danger is that humans will become less human
Connection is not efficient, It is not optimized, It is not instant
It takes time, It takes patience, It takes heart
And none of that can be automated
Why This Matters Now
We are living in a time where loneliness is at epidemic levels. Trust is declining and division is rising. People feel unseen in their own cities
But we are also living in a time where communities can be built from scratch. Joy can become resistance and Kindness can become culture. And belonging can still save lives
The world may feel polarized, but it is not hopeless
Beyond Dance: What Connection Makes Possible
Through the relationships built in our studio, people have found jobs, navigated immigration, survived grief and illness, found life partners and lifelong friends, made homes in a country far from their own and held on during the pandemic when they had no one else
Community does not change every circumstance but it changes the way we carry it
My Hope
If there is one thing I have learned from building a community in Seattle, it is this:
Connection does not require changing the world, just changing how we show up in it
You do not need a plan, you just need one sincere moment. One pause long enough to say
I see you
In a world racing toward automation, the most radical thing we can offer is, OUR ATTENTION
And if there is one truth I want to leave you with, it is this:
In a lonely, polarized world, connection is not found online. It is found on the floor. Side by side. Moving to the same beat.
