The Human Experience: How to Live a Rich Life

The night before the 2024 presidential election, I was in the back of a Toyota 4Runner listening to my Uber driver, Selemani, talk about the differences between the United States and his home country of the Congo. Selemani observed that Americans tend to look to our government for everything – our jobs, healthcare, money, safety, etc. His noticed that we tend to hold the government responsible for the quality of our lives. 

In the Congo, the government carries an unhealthy dose of corruption, so the people naturally don't look to the government for support; instead, they look to their neighbors. Selemani told me about a concept called "chef de quartier," which literally translates to "neighborhood chief." 

This is a designated leader of communities responsible for welcoming new neighbors and introducing them to other people in the community. This person acts as a point of contact for residents, mediates disputes, welcomes newcomers, and ensures cohesion and communication within the community. The purpose is to facilitate support. You're out of work? The chef de quartier will pull financial resources to help. Need childcare? The whole village is responsible for all the children in the village. Feeling sick? We can support you. 

Selemani acknowledged he came to the States for a reason – economic opportunity, less government corruption, and less fear for his safety are net positives, but his criticism stuck with me. He longed for the deep sense of connection and support he felt back home.

For the rest of the 30-minute drive into the belly of Houston, I learned about Selemani, and he learned about me. He was surprised as to why I "only had one wife," and I was concerned about the logistics of having three wives, like him, or six wives, like his grandfather. We continued talking about the pros and cons of our countries and cultures. 

Since launching Take Care, I've been critical of the self-absorbed nature of our culture. Values like individualism, authenticity, and passion are overrated. We are nudged to notice how special and unique we are from others, not how we are the same. In his book Big Potential, Harvard psychologist Shawn Achor writes, "We spend the first 22 years of our life being judged and praised for our individual attributes and what we can achieve alone, when, for the rest of our life, our success is almost entirely interconnected with that of others." 

These attitudes have deteriorated trust in our society. Only one-third of people think strangers can be trusted. A number that's been steadily declining since the 70s. Another survey revealed that "less than half of full-time employees have a high level of trust in their employer."

Trust us a macronutrient of any high-functioning society or organization. High trust has been shown to lead to less stress, fewer sick days, less burnout, and more satisfaction in our lives. In one longitudinal study out of Duke, researchers looked at older adults who viewed others as trustworthy. After 15 years, a majority of the people who viewed others as trustworthy were still alive, whereas the majority of those who found others untrustworthy were dead. 

Trust deteriorates when we focus on how we're different from one another rather than the same. 

Challenge Day is a non-profit organization that focuses on anti-bullying campaigns. Their goal is to "break down the walls of separation and isolation and replace them with compassion."  

For their signature exercise, they have high school students line up side-by-side in a gym and slowly call out different scenarios. If the scenarios are true, he or she is supposed to step forward across the line.  

The scenarios are things like, "My parents are divorced, and it's been hard," or "I've experienced a death in the family."

By the end of the experience, every student ends up crossing the line. Oftentimes, students are overwhelmed with emotion with the realization that everybody has a hardship they're facing, and they had no idea. The experience shatters the illusion that "we're the only one.." and creates a sense of connectedness amongst the group.

I run a similar exercise in my workshops where people end up sharing the edges of the human experience, creating a much more supportive and empathetic environment. Like Challenge Day, the point is to highlight similarities and develop points of real connection. 

And these connections aren't just warm and fuzzies. There are tangible effects that ripple through all areas of our life. In a study published in Nature, based on 80,000 interactions among college students, "the highest achievers were those with the most social connections and shared information in more ways." In another study in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, researchers found that when looking at a hill, the mere presence of a friend causes us to perceive the hill as 10-20% less steep than if we were standing there alone. Feelings of connectedness can literally shape our perception of the obstacles we face.

The paradox, of course, is that connection is often viewed as an inconvenience in our society, but when we connect and collaborate with others, we actually can accomplish more than we ever could alone. 

After Selemani dropped me off, I felt a weird sensation. On the eve of a tense election and a big presentation, I felt light, positive, and calm. I found myself easily chatting with the concierge, cracking jokes, and building rapport.  

It was a good reminder of the ripple effect of connection. It was a good reminder to be a "positive node" in my community. I may not be the neighborhood chief, but taking the time to get to know my neighbors, help out a stranger, or call an old friend can and will enhance my own life. Research by my man Shawn Achor shows that we improve our productivity, creativity, and performance by taking the time to help others. 

As I started to walk around the desk and head for the elevator, I heard a thick Congolese accent shout, "Danny!"

I turned around to see Selemani. "You know, I never do this," he said, "but my spirit was telling me to check the back seat…. Is this your phone?"

Sure enough, I left my phone in the back seat.

Feeling even more grateful up in my hotel room, I couldn't help but reflect on the serendipity of the whole situation. That phone had all of my presentation notes, the information for the event and coordinator, access to Ubers, and all my airplane tickers for the next week. Very little of which was backed up anywhere else.

Maybe the lesson is to just back up the shit on your phone, but I can’t help but think that the time I spent connecting with Selemani paid real dividends. If nothing else, I was in a much better mood than when I landed. And that counts for something.