The power of connection

The room buzzed with conversation, sixty or seventy women clustered around cocktail tables, their animated chatter filling the space. As I stood at the entrance, watching these accomplished professionals effortlessly navigate their social circles, I felt a tug of hesitation. Despite years of experience in PR, event organising and helping others to share their stories, I found myself caught in a dance of approach and retreat. Right then, the siren call of my sofa rang in my ears. I didn’t listen and bravely walked in.

This scene, which played out just a few weeks ago, crystallised something I'd been noticing in my coaching practice: the profound relationship between connection and self-expression. In recent conversations with clients, both men and women, a common thread emerged: many people, regardless of their professional success, find it challenging to express who they are or articulate their value. Yet, one factor consistently made a difference: connection.

Whether emotional, energetic, or situational, the ability to connect determines a person’s comfort level in talking about themselves and sharing an authentic story about who they are and what they do.

Without this sense of connection, they experience hesitancy, fear, or a sense of being blocked. That's true for both introverts (like myself) and self-confessed extroverted souls.

This felt surprising. It shouldn't have. We, humans, are wired for connection. We all desire to find a sense of safety in belonging, whichever space we enter into; work or play. Yet holding this truth in our cognitive mind doesn't necessarily prepare us for moments when connection feels out of reach.

I’m a prime example, the communication specialist that I am. If I find that no one acknowledges me, through eye contact, a greeting, or any display of warmth and recognition, my natural instinct is to bury myself in my phone: the modern human form of disappearing into the ground for safety from predators. Far from offering real safety, this behaviour robs us of forming genuine connections. I should know… 

Now, let’s return to that recent gathering.

Our group was waiting to be let into a hotel conference room for the main event (a presentation). Everyone seemed to know each other. The energy was high; laughs echoed around. Pleasant, I thought. Moments later, I noticed that the conference attendees were so engrossed in each other's conversations, the only way I could interact was to interrupt. Yikes. 

I walked toward a group, taking a deep breath in, and started to approach ready to ‘interrupt’ and introduce myself, only to find someone moving in front of me, blocking entry. I pivoted and beelined for the small bar tucked in the corner, where I picked up a tall glass of sparkling water. Cradling my drink, I observed the gathering. Right. Channelling my friend Arthur's mantra, I talked myself into action.

‘Come on! Let's do this!’

I picked myself up and slalomed between tables and guests. I completed a couple of laps. Fast. I couldn't find a 'way in' to an introduction or a conversation. I siphoned my water, put the glass on the bar counter, and switched to white wine. This is the moment our hostesses invited us to make our way to the main space. I sat myself down, politely saying hello to the women to my left and right, and settled in.

The presenter was good. Two hours later, I offered my thanks to one of the hostesses and exited just as I had arrived: swiftly.

It wasn't all bad. Just before making my way out, I enjoyed a dynamic conversation with a good-looking forty-something American woman seated near me. We talked about the unspoken political drama that is women's relationship to their hair (natural or not for black women, what to do for those losing their hair to cancer, the thinning hair of middle-aged women, the impact of that healthy bouncy hair on the male population, etc). My quest for a meaningful conversation had resulted in success.

Like many others, while I bought the tickets for the external goal (the presentation), I had an internal objective (discovering a new community, maybe a place I'll find myself returning to). Below the surface, I had this even deeper desire: to find people who care about what I care about. And forge new bonds.

By all accounts, this seemed to be a thriving community of professional women; the atmosphere said that much. However, the lack of intention about how to integrate potential new members closed the door to multiple possibilities of essential human connections.

This pattern of missed opportunities for connection isn't limited to informal networking events. In fact, sometimes the more high-octane the gathering, the more intense the disconnect becomes. I witnessed this most clearly a few years ago when my famously chatty former boss and I transformed into bonafide wallflowers.

Picture this: a glamorous party thrown by a revered Swiss luxury watch brand during the Venice Film Festival.

I vividly recall stepping off a luxury vintage Venetian boat and arriving at the venue, only to be greeted by the oddest feeling. Everyone seemed to be studying each other from afar, yet no one talked to each other. Top clients had been flown from all four corners of the world for this big corporate celebration. These well-dressed couples appeared to be dotted around the entrance and I could hear low whispers here and there. After walking around, trying to identify a friendly face or someone/something to anchor ourselves to, my famous boss and I retreated, almost snuggling against one of the brick walls of the event venue. In this dreamy setting, dressed to the nines, we stayed parked in our spot, staring just like everyone else was; mirror neurons at work. I was at a complete loss as to what we were doing there.

The venue was grand, the service impeccable, but the atmosphere was glacial, despite the mild September temperatures.

Big name actresses stepped off gorgeous sparkling boats, sprinkling some fairy glamour dust over the guests, but this didn't do much for the gathering. Their A-list status was not a sufficient binding agent. The event was a sober affair despite the sea of champagne being poured left and right.

Sidekick to a big name, I landed at a table where I sat shoulder to shoulder with some of the film festival's top talent. Our group ended up being the most raucous. Ignoring the restrained etiquette on display at other tables, we turned into boisterous teenagers, albeit very well-heeled ones. Our group sneaked out as early as we could.

My memory of that first trip to Venice conjures both the stunning skies of this mystical place and the missed opportunity of this event that fell flat, like a soufflé that didn't take.

What's fascinating is how universal these patterns of disconnection are. They show up in our Monday morning team meetings, local networking forums, industry conferences, and yes, even at glamorous A-list events with vintage Venetian boats and endless champagne.

The reason often lies not in what these gatherings include but in what they overlook. Whether we're planning a casual coffee meetup or orchestrating a global product launch, there's always a surface reason for bringing people together. But beneath that visible purpose lies something deeper, something we often forget to examine: our true intention.

I'm almost ashamed to say that it's easy to forget to check in with this deeper purpose. I’m great at reminding my clients to do it, but when it comes to my own projects, it’s hard to come back to this foundational step.  

So imagine the challenge for an organisation managing complex events with multiple stakeholders. Yet the principles remain the same, whether we're hosting three people or three hundred:

What are we here for? (A question a la Seth Godin)

What do we want to create?

What do we want people to feel?

What do we want people to remember about this gathering, this interaction, this moment of coming together?

These questions aren't just about event planning, they're about creating spaces where genuine connection becomes possible. Because when we design with true intention, we create environments where people feel safe enough to share their authentic selves, where conversations flow naturally, and where meaningful connections can take root and flourish.

So this brings us here: 

Most gatherings aren’t designed with empathy and connection in mind. And we all bring our own struggles along with our good intentions when we show up to interact in the world.

The more we care about the occasion, the more likely we are to feel uncomfortable.

For that reason, it's crucial to take connection into consideration when we organise gatherings, from conferences to workshops to fancy industry events.

Here's what my clients shared from their own experiences:

"I feel driven by the energy people bring to the conversation. When I feel truly heard, it's so much easier to express myself."

"Whether or not I can talk about myself easily depends on clicking with the person in front of me. When there's a connection, it just flows."

"I don't feel shy talking to people. But when I don't feel there's space [for me], I hold back."

These reflections highlight a crucial truth: sharing our story and connecting with others isn't just about finding the right words — it's about creating or recognising a sense of connection.

When the environment is safe and the listener is present, it becomes possible to share not just what we do but who we are.

Without that connection, self-expression often feels like walking on eggshells.

The ability to share our authentic selves isn't simply a matter of confidence or social skill — it's intimately tied to the quality of connection we experience in any given moment. Whether in a crowded conference room or an intimate gathering, the environment and energy we encounter can either open or close doors to meaningful interaction.

As we navigate our professional and personal spaces, perhaps the real challenge isn't just learning how to tell our story better but learning to create and recognise those moments of genuine connection that allow our stories to unfold naturally. This means being mindful not only of what we say but of how we create spaces — physical and emotional — that invite others to share their authentic selves.

For those designing events, workshops, or any group experiences, this understanding calls for a shift in focus away from the content to intentionally crafting opportunities for connection. For participants, it means acknowledging that our struggle to express ourselves in certain situations isn't a personal failing but rather a natural response to environments that haven't made space for real connection.

The next time you find yourself responsible for bringing people together — whether for a small team meeting or a grand event — consider this: How can you design for connection first? 

Because when we get the connection right, everything else — the sharing, the learning, the networking — naturally follows.

PS. I've designed a workshop to break through and help us connect. Enrolment is closed, but watch this space: the next cohort will start in January 2025.

REFLECTION

Taking a sense of ownership of your own experience, how do you create the connection you need to share your story with confidence?

What role does connection play when you listen to others' stories?

How could you approach your next gathering with an intention centered around connection?

CHEAT SHEET

I’ve designed a one-sheet pdf to help you dive into your intention. It works for projects, including events, or important conversations. Sign up to get your free download here. 

READING

This article from the Drum talks about nurturing culture, which is another way to approach the notion of why putting connection first matters. 

I’m midway through Priya Parker’s book, The Art of Gathering. She has a lot to say about being a generous host vs a controlling host, my favorite quote so far is 'Hosting is not democratic, just like design is not democratic.' Something to ponder on.