Talking to Strangers

When confusion reigns, where do you turn? We are strangers to ourselves in these moments, unfocused and unclear. I often turn to the piano, or other musical instruments to get at and get out what's going on inside. More even than writing, composing music allows thoughts and feelings to flow through me unencumbered (or, at least, less encumbered than the more rational reasoned way I sometimes feel I have to write, or talk.)In this episode, I play some piano and talk through some ideas about how we go about expressing ourselves and getting at the confusing often chaotic feelings going on inside us, often as a result of the chaotic confusion in the world outside:) We are not in control, not of the decisions of the government, how the mountains shift and change, how other people act or even of our own hearts. That realization and understanding can be both dismaying and, for me, strangely empowering.  I can't control, I just have to soften and become more pliant in the way I move through decisions and actions. I have to be adaptable, and compassionate to myself and others. It is easy to say but hard to do that in relationships of all kinds, with ourselves, with each other, with the world, we have to sometimes live with the idea that we will not figure the perfect way. We will fly haphazardly around and about sometimes, like a crazy dragonfly, and then we will suddenly latch on to something as if we knew what we wanted all along. We will, eventually, come through it all to a landing place. As we head into the Cancer New Moon tonight at 8:00, Zen teacher Ji Hyang suggests adopting a "spirit of empowered authenticity." How do we identify and release primal feelings and nurture ourselves to get past what she calls "socially constructed suffering"? I choose often to play piano or other music, what about you? Find me at stephsthompson@gmail.com, or subscribe to SacredBloomTribe.com to experience a sound bath or join me in a drum circle, a great release!!!XXSteph

What makes us love a musician? The connection with a performer and their music is not unlike other loves probably, a slightly inexplicable alchemy that hits us hard, right off the bat.Seeing a long line of people waiting mid-morning for the best seats for the Phoebe Bridgers benefit concert in Prospect Park last week, I was curious: why do these folks love her so much they'd wait all day in the hot sun to get as close as possible?So I asked. I'd never even heard of the 27-year-old  indie phenom til the night before, when my husband couldn't find parking because of her first night's show in the park two blocks from our apartment. But these young women—(left to right Annecy, Gaby and Tatiana)—were the first three in line, and they very articulately expressed what drew them to the artist. It was heartfelt, and touching.Ms. Bridgers' music allowed them to safely feel their own feelings, to feel that someone could relate to their own experience, they said. ‘Sadness' was mentioned by all. That she somehow helped them feel into that and come out of it, or at least feel less alone in it. “It's like a collective catharsis,” Tatiana said, and I cheered, inwardly and outwardly. Yes! What a beautiful thing. I love talking to strangers about this amazing powerful phenomenon! Thank you Phoebe Bridgers for your incredible support of these young people, offering them a way to feel less alone in their lives.

My interaction with the young band Moxie is a direct result of saying 'yes.' "Can a band stay with us a couple of nights?" my son Eli asked a couple weeks back and--based on my love of strangers, especially meeting them in my house--I didn't skip a beat. "Yes," I said. And so it was that I found myself in my kitchen with four of the most lovely dynamic clear-headed young people ever, the Brattleboro, VT-based members of the fast-rising Moxie the Band, in the early days of their Summer 2022 East Coast tour.My sons had met Rei Kimura, the band's lead vocalist, during a visit to Vermont with mutual friends, and though I'd heard about her, I had no idea of her incredibly engaging smile, her super positive energy and-I dare say-her 'moxie.' With her came likewise engaging bandmates and friends since elementary school, Leander Holzapfel (lead guitarist), Daniel Snyder (drums) and David "Inky" Cohen (bass). As they emerged in the kitchen, they grabbed apple cider donuts and sat down with me one by one for a tarot reading. It came to me to pull out the Oracle Deck maybe from a place of understanding about the hugely exciting and slightly unnerving position they're in as their stars rise in the world at such tender ages of 18 and 19. What will the future bring? Rei's spread put Fulfillment of Wishes in the past position, the Third Eye Chakra in present, and Destiny card in the future, all auspicious picks and good food for thought for someone at a point of emerging popularity and leadership in the world. https://www.moxie-band.com. The role of a singer/songwriter is a powerful one, and it seems she is ready. Daniel noted that all three of the cards he chose featured rainbows...Dreams, once on the horizon, came into clear view for all of them in the present and future.We recorded this podcast so that I could learn from the members of Moxie how it is that the band came into being, how they became such accomplished collaborative musicians at such a young age. Getting along so well, dealing with rising fame, and traveling for weeks on end in a dusty Subaru is not easy at any age!Their stories of how and when they took up their instruments of choice (spoiler alert, INCREDIBLY YOUNG!) are awesome and hilarious. I was sad as they spoke that I'd missed their show at the Mercury Lounge in Manhattan, but was luckily in upstate New York when they played last night in Woodstock, NY, at Colony. It was there that I first saw these beautiful souls showcase what 'moxy' really means: they are indeed a force of character, determination and nerve.As Rei's smile and smoothly swaying hips brought everyone deeper in to the band's luring rhythms, the crowd came to its feet and joined in wholeheartedly, moving and clapping and singing along. I felt grateful and hopeful for the next generation, including my own children dancing beside me. If there are such leaders as these musicians, creating and sharing such collective joy, they are in great shape. 

When I sat down to write about Dani Markham, the first thing I did was look up "cool." Even though it was the first word that came to mind when I thought to describe her, I guess I don't really know why, or what 'cool' really means...Obviously, like all words, 'cool' is subjective. But what came up from psychologists who study perceptions of human behavior were qualities like 'attitude and behavior seen as uniquely their own" and "accepting who you are, showing up authentically, being kind to everyone." Cool, it seems, means becoming the person you genuinely feel you are internally and wish to be. And then being able to be kind to others because YOU are doing what you want, and don't have to be jealous or mean. Huh. Inspiring thought!!And this young woman, a renowned percussionist, a world traveler, with her big smile and even bigger heart, obviously has figured out who she wants to be, and has gone for it, with great results so…she could be a super sweetie, a stranger I immediately felt the need to hang onto!We sat down to discuss how it had come to pass that Dani had ended up on stages of major arenas with Childish Gambino and plenty of other bands…Listen in to hear how exactly Dani Markham got so cool. There are lessons here, lots of them, on how to get what you want. (Spoiler alert: believe you can, and find others who believe you can too!)

For this episode, I sat down naked at the piano. Sometimes, it is only through music and rhythm that I am able to get at what I'm REALLY thinking and feeling, what I want to express. Sometimes, often, words don't work. I so like to express my naked thoughts and ideas. And I like to hear other people's. People often can see that in my eyes, in my body language. They tell me things, sometimes things they haven't told anybody else. I often wonder what that is, why people feel they can say things to me that they haven't felt comfortable sharing before, with  others. The reality is that I understand why people often don't share, why I don't (when I don't.) Because truly attempting to connect leaves you fully naked and vulnerable. And, mostly, we have been burned so much in the past that we might not trust, we might not let our guard down, we might stay clothed and covered and behind layer after layer of impenetrable walls. I discovered that rhythm can allow us to tear down those walls. In even a minute of playing percussion, people can forget to pretend, they can forget to dodge and dart and hide. They can be present, in the moment, with themselves first and foremost. And they can, often, be present with others. They can tune in, get in tune, find their rhythm, join in, create harmony. In this podcast, I play piano -- naked and nakedly -- to try to unearth the real thoughts in my head, then I explore some ideas about my very naked approach to connecting, through vibration and percussion, through rhythm. I want this space to explore more the world of connection through music, how in fact "Talking to Strangers" might best be done wordlessly, gathered in a circle with other humans. It is through rhythm that us humans might be able to shed some of those labels and monikers that divide us, might be able to truly see our ability to connect, joyfully and nakedly, with ease.Music is a gift. It offers transcendence for all souls if we let it, if even for just a moment...

Trust is an interesting thing. To talk to someone, to engage with them, is to offer them a sort of trust. When I first talked to Jason Naradzay a few years back, it was to interview him for a piece I was writing in support of Musicambia, a nonprofit music education organization he had been involved with during his time served at Sing Sing Correctional Facility. He was out of Sing Sing and applying the therapeutic skills he'd learned inside the prison to help those still there. He knew firsthand the crucial importance of music and self expression to create the much-needed connections incarcerated people--really all people--need to survive. We hit it off right away. His philosophies and mine dove-tailed exactly. He told me about going fishing, and I expressed my desire to do that someday, and he right away put a date on the calendar. It is sometimes hard to talk to strangers, let alone make plans to go on their boat. But Jason struck me deeply as a kind soul, someone who cared immensely about people, a generous person. And so, I trusted. During a global pandemic, Jason and another Musicambia alumni, Dexter Nurse, visited me and my family in upstate New York, and my husband and I took turns going out fishing with them. During my time--some of my most joyous hours ever--Jason and I hatched some plans to do a retreat for some of the alumni of Musicambia's program, men who'd performed together in Carnegie Hall's Musical Connections program inside Sing Sing.On June 25th, we are co-hosting a benefit to raise money for that retreat, and for Jason's work inside Sing Sing and potentially other prisons for the seriously mentally ill and violent individuals. But that event is also to build trust between disparate people, to allow for us to listen and play music together, to "break bread," as Jason would say, to bond. In this conversation, Jason and I talk about the Jeptha Group, the organization he started to do workshops in prisons and that he now wants to expand to help connect the guys who bonded over music in prison and are now out in the world, in desperate need of such connection and bonding. We talk about what to call people who've been incarcerated. Spoiler alert: "How about 'humans?'Join us humans on June 25th at El Barrio's ArtSpace, 215 E. 99th St., NYC. In collaboration with Jazz Habitat and sponsored by Iwona Szatkowska for her 60th birthday, the evening will feature food and drink, a solo by Musicambia/Musical Connections alumni Kenyatta Emmanuel and music sets by the Joe Stone Band and DJ Funky Punky. Donations of $25 or more by Venmo @Stephanie-Thompson-229 or at the door. 

I knew that Jamee Jurecki and Leonissa Morris were to be my pals back when I first encountered them in December of 2017. As we stood there in front of the long mirrors of the communal bathroom at the Posh Hostel in South Beach, brushing our teeth and hair, preparing to hit the town, it was very clear. We had come to Miami on our own, adventurous ladies staying at a low-cost high-style hostel by the beach during the city's fabulous Art Basel show, and we were definitely gonna be able to hang together, and have a blast. Jamee was a young woman from Wisconsin (who has since relocated to Brooklyn) and Leonissa is from Toronto. I invited them along to my friend artist Claudia Vieira's show at the Aqua Hotel and the rest, as they say, is history. There was something magical about that weekend, we all agreed over a recent Zoom call. Something about the cool relaxed vibe of Miami blended with artists from all over the world and a funky hostel with a free happy at the downstairs hotel bar and a rooftop pool overlooking South Beach for...$40 a night? It varied, I think, the price people paid for a bunkbed with a lockable drawer in a co-ed space (right down to the showers), but it was quite low and so drew a wide variety of folks, including artists staying in town a fair while for the show. The three of us felt immediately like good friends, we all agreed. We shared the same joy in the connection with strangers that we'd thought a hostel could provide. We welcomed one another's thoughts and ideas and histories, marveling at the comfort as one always does when finding kindred spirits. I have kept in touch with both ladies. I hosted Jamee in my home and have hung out with her on occasion (never enough) since she moved to Brooklyn, and had a super fun night out in the Village with Leonissa when she was in town. Social media has also kept us connected. With Art Basel canceled this year, and no travel plans currently in the works due to Covid, we three adventurous ladies shared a call and a remembrance of things past, of amazing connections that are possible when you put yourself out there and imagine the best in people. We will meet again soon, I am sure.

On Facebook the other day, someone posed the question, "what career did you dream of having when you were a kid?" I didn't skip a beat. "A singer!" I responded. My sister and I spent countless hours singing into a tape recorder (yes, a tape recorder, with cassette tapes whose plastic film we often had to detangle and re-roll with a pen. I am that old.) There was something about the freedom of belting out one's more melodramatic emotions full on with a fake microphone in the mirror that was truly amazing. Maybe that's why I'm so enamored with Ourida, the amazingly expressive singer/songwriter whom I sat down with recently to discuss what it's REALLY like to fulfill one's childhood dream of becoming a singer. I have borne witness to Ourida's amazing performances, belting out very real emotions on a real stage in front of a real audience. I met Ourida for the first time at Bar Lunatico a couple years back, as some of her bandmates were friends of mine. And it was her very realness and expressiveness that wowed me. She is modest, and maybe I am too gushing because I am so envious of the ability to express oneself so nakedly on stage, but when I saw her for the first time--a stranger on the stage, embodying the heartfelt words that came from her mouth--it was as if I knew her, as if she knew me. The deftly light, even humorous way she handled the difficult themes of her music left me giddy with the feeling of being understood. It felt like I was less alone, which is of course the power of art. I returned to see her many times. We talked during our sit-down at a restaurant near the water in the Greenpoint neighborhood of Brooklyn of the necessity of art exactly because of that great power it has to help people get at their own complex emotions, consciously or subconsciously. And for that, artists need to get compensated. Ourida recently wrote a beautiful song called 'Amanti' with Raed El-Khazen and Ben Zwerin, which she put on Bandcamp (www.ourida.bandcamp.com) so that she might generate revenue for her work. It is crucial to support the making and sharing of expressive art. Listen in to our chat, and contribute to Ourida and to other artists who do the hard work (well beyond the childhood fantasy) of helping us make sense of our emotions, especially in these difficult times!

I first met Nora Fish in a little cafe named Parco, in Park Slope. She had a beautiful German Shepherd named Annika and an adorable pug named Tootsie. As she reminds me during this podcast, she and I "were constantly complimenting each other's boots!" I have always admired Nora's style, from the great knit ponchos she makes herself to the gorgeous knit sweaters she has made for her dog, my dog and so many others, including those four-legged creatures she so lovingly invites to stay with her when their owners go away. In addition to dogs--including her new puppy, Esme--Nora's house is filled with bright colors, including those in her hair, and the yarns she chooses for her current knit creations. It is like her house is one of the graphic design projects she managed for many years for major beauty companies. I remember our meeting more than a decade ago like it was yesterday, and I have been so blessed to have met up with Nora on many occasions since to talk about color, and design, and dogs and--always--relationships. Her understanding of beings comes through in the beautiful calm way she manages the many dogs in her house. She understands how sensitive are the souls of these animals, and she so wisely and deftly protects them.

When James Yang came to my kids' school to talk about his illustrated children's book back in 2013, I was immediately struck by its powerful simplicity. I had just started volunteering at a school where kids didn't get to meet authors like my kids did, and I invited James to join. We reminisced during this podcast about that day, about how the kids swarmed around him as he showed them on a big piece of butcher paper taped to the wall how to make the simple shapes and designs of the robots and planets found in his book. Seven years later, I reached out to James, so impressed with seeing his truly illustrative work on subway cars and in newspapers and magazines, depicting in humorous and helpful ways the difficulties of life these days. Talking to James at that author visit many years ago proved a lovely thing, and talking to him again, now, was fascinating. The kind of mind like his that observes the metaphors and translates them into simple images...listen in to get a window on it. It's fascinating.

It was quite the coup to get one of my teenagers to come on to the podcast. After all, they are independent humans with ideas of their own about how to live life, and doing my bidding often takes low priority, as it should be. Over the years, I humiliated them bi-weekly with my Fearless Parenting column in the Brooklyn Paper, subjected them to a few awkward photo/video shoots for newspaper and TV and regularly interrupt family outings by...yes, talking to strangers (at one point stopping to give them gold stars.) But I am thrilled and humbled that Oscar chose (with only a small bribe) to chat with me for an episode of Talking to Strangers. He is lucid and articulate about what it's like to be a teen, why they (he) only share a miniscule portion of themselves with their parents usually, and why INDEPENDENCE is a good thing. It was a fun thing to chat with Oscar for a recording, and see what it is he is willing to share with me, and with strangers. I'm thrilled that we got this time together:)) Remember to push to talk to your teens, even when---most especially when--they begin to feel like strangers!! Dialogue is always crucial for both us and them!

When I first met the lovely Emily Sause a few years back, she was 'head of community'for a stunning Manhattan co-working space called The Assemblage. It was part of her job to be welcoming, but she seemed to go above and beyond with her bright-eyed enthusiasm. While I didn't end up joining the super-cool workspace, I did manage to come for a couple of events, including Emily's 'vocal toning' workshop, which was one of the more relaxing deeply meditative hours of my life. We got together a number of times for fun events--hers or mine--and I so appreciated Emily's great positive spirit every time. We have seemed to be so in sync. Funny then that, having lost touch for a bit, we would run into one another in an antique store upstate, where she had moved, post-Covid, and I had just bought a house. Life sometimes changes dramatically on a dime. Emily is now turning her great ability to connect and communicate to the plant world, living and working on a gorgeous farm owned by friends just above the Hudson River in Catskill, NY. She has applied the same loving, nurturing energy she showered on people and events in the city to the kale and tomato plants she cares for now, and her passion for learning about and teaching about this important world of 'permaculture' is palpable. Listen in as we chat, two one-time strangers finding connections along our path...

I met Roberto at Cafe Martin in Park Slope. He was a mathematician/philosopher working there between gigs. A song had come on and I asked a question about it, and he said how popular it was with the French kids. He said it with a bit of a scoff. He sounded French but...”where are you from?” I asked before I guessed.“I’m Italian,” he said. He grew up in Monaco though. Maybe I learned that then, or later, that relationship between his Italian roots and growing up in France. It read on his face, though, his pondering of things, his strong opinions, and I liked him immediately. We became friends. I had just started my nonprofit, InspireCorps, and he helped me in a variety of ways, including walking and talking with my dog, Ginger (seriously, they had a language), and tutoring my boys in math. He was a good friend in general, with his truthful straight-up philosophy of life. When he met the lovely always-smiling Sarah, a great poet and writer, in a philosophy class at the New School, it was a perfect match. The way two people can light up talking about Kierkegaard...amazing. They became regulars at our dinner table, often dog-sitting when we went away. We would see their incredibly high Scrabble scores on scraps of paper when we got home, and be impressed. It wasn’t until now that we played with them. I recorded a bit of that game, at the end. It is funny what we learn about others and ourselves when we play games, when we see them win or lose, when we win or lose ourselves, how we handle it. Listen in.

When I run out of coffee, I am always glad because it means I can take a walk over to Java Joe. For so many years, I have been going to this little shop on 8th Street, in Park Slope, to buy their deliciously strong Black Magic espresso beans. The shop is adorable, run by a lovely frank Irish lady, and besides the INCREDIBLE mint malted milk balls (a holiday gift staple) I always have a good chat. In this episode, I went in for beans and a new mug (I have too many, but always want a new one when I see their fun selection) and I ended up in a great conversation with Ben, the lovely owner's son. He is a great young man, and we have discussed before his love of techno music, which he composes and plays loud over the store's speakers. I learned so much more than I'd known before about the store, about him, about his expectations of life...It is not easy or particularly lucrative to work retail, in a small business. We talked about how the neighborhood has changed, and what it was like for him to grow up there. Ben's eyes were bright and expressive over the top of his mask, and I so appreciated the frank conversation, as I always do when I enter Java Joe. Thank God some people are up for a long chat about how they really feel. I smiled thinking that he clearly got that gift from his mother. Honesty plus great coffee is a winning combination Listen in to my chat with Ben. And head over to Java Joe if you're ever in Park Slope!

In this episode, I head to the beach to drum, and I talk a bit about how we learn to trust ourselves and others. It's not easy. I often use the metaphor of music, and work with people, including homeless men, to try to get at thoughts about connection, and trust and flexibility through drumming together. What we can create together, quickly, us strangers, with a little music, is nothing short of magic. Have a drum or something to hit your hands on to make rhythm with me at the beginning. Listen as I talk about a recent experience with my Get in Tune workshop at a shelter, and meditate with me at the end...Connecting to ourselves is a crucial step in our ability to talk to strangers, and try to connect to them!

What I loved about Samir LanGus from the first time I saw him was how comfortably he seemed to mix cultures seamlessly and stylishly. As a Moroccan musician steeped in the classically spiritual Gnawa music of his homeland, he is always sporting American fashions like his favored Adidas jackets or running pants along with more traditional Moroccan garb. The look is representative of Samir's extremely nimble balance of traditional and modern, which has shown up in the collaborations he has forged with all different kinds of musicians including British L.A.-based DJ Bonobo, who partnered with his band Innov Gnawa in 2017 for a beautiful haunting Grammy-nominated song that features the classic Gnawa qraqebs (castanets), sintir and vocals along with electronic beats. https://www.npr.org/2017/06/07/531753920/songs-we-love-bonobo-bambro-koyo-ganda-feat-innov-gnawa-analog-versionMore recently, on his own, Samir has been working with a variety of other musicians to fuse Gnawa with jazz and funk, and create arrangements that modernize the traditional trance music. I was a big groupie of Innov Gnawa, having met Samir and other members of the band at the shows of another of my all-time fave bands, The Brooklyn Gypsies. It was great to catch up with Samir to reminisce about those days and hear what he's doing now, and to thank him for all the evenings of healing music. We agreed that the collaboration of musicians onstage--people who may come from all different backgrounds--is magical and crucial. "Music is love," Samir says. And it's true. One can feel Gnawa music in the heart for sure. Listen in to our chat, and follow Samir's culture-crossing musical collaborations at https://www.youtube.com/c/SamirLangus/videos and on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/SAMIR.BIQINEAttend his Gnawa workshop this Thursday, Sept. 24th, with Michael League from Snarky Puppy.https://www.crowdcast.io/snarkypuppy

I'm "friends" on Facebook with a lot of people I've never met. Maybe we have mutual friends, maybe they read something of mine or listened to my podcast, maybe I heard them play somewhere. Neither Chris Rael nor I remember exactly how we became "friends," though we have a long list of friends in common, mostly musicians (since he is one.) Even though we've never met, I reached out to Chris recently after a post of his caught my eye, and asked if he would be on my podcast to discuss it. In it he said: "Our fear stokes our anger & this society is currently melting down in both. Somehow, even during periods of conflict & pain, we must find our way thru ourselves to the place within where the love resides. Our compassion, ethics & accountability to others grow from there. Fear is not cowardice; in fact it may provoke great courage. When I look in the mirror, I see a pretty brave, albeit pretty scared guy. Today I renew my efforts to be kinder to myself & feel less afraid. If you face anything similar, I wish the same for you."I am struck more and more by those people who try to find and tap into the universal emotions that we are all feeling rather than focusing on divisions. Fear. Anger. Love. Chris and I talked about these universal emotions and a whole lot of other things in a video call, our first-ever meet-up. He is fascinating. I love how we shared so much in common, most especially our belief in the need for artistic expression to figure ourselves and all those crazy emotions we feel...He shared this awesome video of a song he created with his son in a routine "Art of the Day." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1BETCRmjbAE&feature=youtu.be Love it. I'm so glad I reached out and that neither Chris nor I are afraid to talk to strangers:))

I try not to take advantage of my friendship with veteran psychoanalyst Mubasher Naseer. After all, he is clearly easy to talk to, listens well and has many years' experience helping people sort out relationships and other of life's strains and stresses with his sage advice. Since we met, roughly six years ago, Mubasher is always a good person to chat with about what's happening in the world and what people are feeling, including he and I. It is nice to hear what a mental health professional feels outside of the professional setting. I enjoy the back and forth with Mubasher greatly, and appreciate his knowledge and experience. Right now, with life a bit up in the air for folks (to put it mildly), it seemed a good time to have a sit-down with my friend and shoot the breeze about the human psyche:) Why is it that we're so rushed and stressed he wonders, then answers his own question. "Suppression, from an early age," he suggests as one possibility. Don't suppress, express! If you need someone to express to, you can email Mubasher at mubasher.naseer@gmail.com. And listen in for some free insight from a wise soul.

Since meeting jazz pianist James Carney seven or so years ago in a little bar in Park Slope, I have sat many times in various venues to see and hear him tickle the ivories, his fingers flying fast across the keys masterfully to create rhythms that resound in the soul. It was a pleasure to sit with him again and hear a few of these sounds, this time in his new PianoWorks studio in Brooklyn's cool Industry City complex. While musical performances came to a halt during Covid, James decided to expand upon the piano tuning/repair work he had been doing out of his home into a full-blown piano shop, where as precisely and artfully as he plays, he is building beautiful grand pianos and some uprights back to their original glory. The passion he has for restoration (and his new power tools) is as inspiring as his music, making one think maybe the two are linked. After all, deep understanding of one's instrument could be said to lead one to greater heights as a musician, and James's understanding and continued learning about the inner workings of this complex instrument is immense. Such seems to be case, as Pure Heart, James' 8th album as a leader, is getting rave reviews and much media attention since its debut in June. It's awesome. Check it out at www.JamesCarney.net, and listen in to our interesting chat in the sunny new studio space he now happily inhabits. Stop by yourself if you're in the market for a beautiful piano or maybe, soon, to catch an intimate gathering of great jazz...

It is fitting that in our chat, in her sumptuous living quarters in the Fort Greene area of Brooklyn, stylist/creative director Hilary Robertson would quote Keats' Ode to a Grecian Urn. She waved her hand this way and that with her usual English dramatic flair, and the crisp striped fabric of the full-length dress shirt she wore shifted slightly. "'Truth is Beauty, and Beauty Truth' or something like that," she said, eyes up toward the soaring brownstone parlor ceiling as she rendered the perfectly apropos words. I remembered then, with a smile, the moment many years back when I encountered this wild wonderful woman, how I'd laughed loudly at the discovery of her at a crowded party when she spoke with such conviction of the brilliant beautiful world she was born in to, and lived in still, in her mind. Hilary Robertson creates beauty and, with it, The Truth, as she so clearly sees it. With the just-perfect placement of a Grecian Urn, together with a plaster lamp, and a horsehair couch, she can make you see it too: Aaaaaah, the joy of living, the art of it!Her styling of such an artful world and her writing of it in lyrical prose have appeared in the pages of magazines world round, and in the pages of her own and others' books on Interiors, which you can see and learn more about at www.HilaryRobertson.com. When we sat down together over the delicious avocado toast she'd prepared, I was finally able to ask her directly what it's all about, the whole 'style' thing, why beautiful 'stuff' is so important. What impact do our interiors have on our interior life, I wondered aloud, and she went there with me, as she does, with thoughts culled from a life filled with music, literature and art.There is a soulfulness and a spirituality to the combinations Hilary puts together in her still-lifes. "Authenticity," she said at one point, holding up her pointer finger decidedly. And I nodded. Yes. Strong images, filled with shapes and colors, somehow resonate in our bodies and minds as what is real, and true. And finding an expression for that truth, my friend Hilary well knows, can heal us.

I first met Saskia Layden (now Saskia Layden Kaya) when she was teaching yoga to children at Still Waters in a Storm, a storefront after-school program in the Bushwick section of Brooklyn. Her smile and laugh lit up the room, and the children gathered around her, all over her, like puppies. I knew immediately I needed her to teach the kids in my own program for InspireCorps, at PS81, and when she did...I was blown away. She had no doubts, not a single qualm it seemed. She knew exactly what the kids needed, and she gave it to them: love. With her gentle yet firm tone, she told them where to sit or lie down, she told them how to move their bodies, and what to do with their minds. And they listened, even though they didn't listen to most people these kids, raised in the projects, often distrustful of others, distrustful of themselves. She has serious skills, my friend Saskia, and I saw it in her when she was just a stranger. She knows how to connect, how to build trust and love, how to forge bonds and build bridges where others might only see divides. And that's a crucial skill these days, one not to be taken lightly. Saskia and I have spent a lot of time together, albeit virtually, since the pandemic began. I could suddenly take the yoga classes and meditations she gives in Fethiye, Turkey where she lives, via Zoom. (Join her group at https://www.facebook.com/groups/yogawithsaskia). She encouraged me to start a writing group, Real Connections Mindful Writing, which she joined (https://www.facebook.com/groups/525789544963645.) And recently, struck by how seamlessly she has adapted to living in a foreign country, married to a lovely Turkish man, learning Turkish and spending time with her in-laws in a small Turkish village, I asked her to make a video. Just Like Us, I thought to call the series of videos I would ask people to do all over the world. After all, it may seem we are so different, but people are basically the same everywhere. There are a few essentials and one of them, as Saskia seems to know well, is LOVE! We just need to be reminded. Watch the great video here, and listen to my heart to heart with this amazing lady. Peace.

It is fitting that I am posting this episode of Talking to Strangers late at night, as that's when I met today's guest, jazz guitarist Andy Bianco. We met at Korzo, a Park Slope restaurant and bar, during one of the late great Konceptions Music Series shows put on by pianist James Carney and his wife Heidi Bayer. He wasn't playing that night, but I would hear him on a number of subsequent occasions, both in bars and in my house, where he began to teach my son. As much as I try, with this podcast and otherwise, it is hard to exactly explain the feeling of familiarity that comes over you when you meet a stranger who is sure to be in your life in some way. There was something about his voice, and the very serious way in which he placed his words, the care with which he spoke, that made me take Andy's number and follow up with him to see if he gave lessons. Even though he was funny, and made me laugh, I could also see that he took great pride in the knowledge he had about music and the other topics that got raised that night and on subsequent evenings as he came and went from my house, before and after the lessons he gave. Knowledge, and the enthusiasm for it, is a great asset in life, and certainly a phenomenal asset for a musician and teacher. Music moves people. It is a valuable thing, and Andy clearly values it, and loves to share it, in so many ways. Reach out to him for lessons! bianco.andy05@gmail.comIt was so fun to do this podcast with Andy, to really sit down and listen to how he became interested in guitar, to jazz in particular. I had given a bit to the GoFundMe he started for a music scholarship in his late father's name, but hadn't heard as much about his father's life as a musician and how it had inspired Andy. You can learn more about it and donate at http://www.gofundme.com/f/phillip-bianco-music-scholarship. Check out his website http://artistecard.com/andybianco and his new album: https://ffm.to/kpdgkopI am always blown away by the dedication great musicians have to their craft, and there is almost no better example of that dedication than now, during a time when so much about musicians' lives have come to a grinding halt. Watching Andy take on new projects, new students, new efforts to keep focused on sharing the great mysteries of music is heart-warming and hopeful: music will never die, nor will musicians, whose legacy will live on and on and on through their music, and the people who have the great good fortune to listen to them play.

Believing in yourself can be a hard thing. With Stanley Mills' sure smile and easy laugh, and his gentle prodding, it seems easier. Stanley has been a personal trainer for over 20 years, though his body seems to defy that that's even possible! It is his physique that is physically impressive, but it is his amazing positivity that really drives one forward. I can hear his voice in my head sometimes, "You can do it Steph..." Everyone in my family except my oldest son has used Stanley as a trainer at the Y. I worried about him during the pandemic, and recently reached out when I heard the Y was finally opening so that I could book him for some sessions. It turns out they are not bringing him back in this first phase, but we agreed to meet separately, outside. We were the first clients he'd trained in nearly six months, and--for Stanley, whose life mission is clearly to help motivate others--it was a looooooong lull. Our session jumpstarted him to start seeing clients again, and we are so glad he is!! It is an important time for people to believe in the strength of their own bodies and minds, to work with someone if they have to in order to get focused and find their way forward after/during this strange time of uncertainty. There are certain people who can make you feel grounded and great and inspired, and Stanley is one of them. "We can't do this alone," he says in our brief chat. And it's true. Email me at stephsthompson@gmail.com if you want to reach out to Stanley for a session!

When you buy a house and decide to gut renovate it, you are suddenly in contact with a lot of strangers you have to learn to trust. Last November, I hired upstate contractor Andy Kane from Peak Builders, and he began to work on the fixer-upper we'd purchased in Elka Park, NY. It has been 10 months since then, and there have been an amazing cast of characters Andy has brought in do the plumbing and electrical, to tile the bathrooms, fix the roof, deliver the wood, to paint and help him with all the massive amount of carpentry. Despite wanting these guys to fix up my house as fast as possible (throughout a pandemic as well as all the normal disruptions that make a renovation last far longer than one thinks it should), I often stop to chat with them about...well, about whatever's on my mind, or theirs. It is a lovely bunch up on the mountain, and it has been fascinating to get to know them. On this day last February, I must have been thinking as usual about how much to trust or distrust others, how much people can count on other people, and the guys were more than happy to jump in with their thoughts. It is fitting that the walls were literally down around in the gutted master bedroom as we chatted about the walls we put up with one another as humans, and how in charge we are of what happens between us...right down to how much we can control ourselves from going to all-out war. A huge hearty thank you to Andy and his amazing team (including Jerry and Jesse chatting here, from Batavia Kill Plumbing & Heating) for all the good mojo they brought in to this crazy house we bought, for all their hard work on our behalf, and for their humanity. It has been a pleasure. Talking to the strangers you hire to help renovate, understanding them as humans and having them understand you, is a beautiful thing.

It's funny to remember back nearly four decades ago to a time and place, to a 50s diner in Tucson, Arizona in the 80s. That young girl in the too-tight Laverne shirt making shakes behind the ice cream counter was me, Steph Saull. I found this recording I made talking about that time (and digressing, of course, onto other seemingly related topics) and I thought it was fascinating how I seem to recall details then that I'm not even sure about now, a little more than a year later. I posit theories and try to ascribe to my own young self feelings and motivations that may or may not truly reflect what I really felt or was motivated by. We are the same she and I and yet...memory fades, and new experiences inform what we felt about the old ones, and change them somehow. But I'm sharing anyway, this story from an unreliable narrator talking about my life, this tale of a time long ago where I felt at home in a little community of people, until such time as I didn't. P.S. The photo attached is of the NEW Little Anthony's Diner, tricked out in a new location. But the bulk of the decor of the same...you get the gist!! Enjoy:)

Discovering a fabulous musician you've never heard of at a club, alone in a foreign city is...well, it is an amazing, life-affirming highly connected experience, one I wholeheartedly recommend. Rolling through recordings on my phone, searching for a podcast for Day 4 of my 30-day lead-up to 50, I happened upon a performance I'd recorded at the Sunset Sunside Jazz Club in Paris back in May of 2017. I'd gone on vacation with my mom and sisters, but no one else felt like going out, so I headed out myself to the Sunset, which a friend had recommended. Sitting down in a Paris jazz club was, I have to admit, a pretty exciting thing in and of itself for a girl from Tucson, Arizona for whom Paris had long seemed a pipe dream. At the time I didn't even catch the name of the young man at the piano, but when he started playing, the sounds emanating out from under his fingers were totally arresting, so much so that I laughed out loud with delight (if you listen closely, you can hear it). His energy and humor and personality...wow. The experience of listening to a musician live, far too rare these pandemic days, is a kind of a communication that may even (dare I say) surpass talking. I know...my podcast is about TALKING to strangers, but over the last decade-plus, my many hours spent listening to musicians in clubs and bars and in the park, within sight, sometimes within touching distance, have been profoundly connected hours. This night in Paris is a stellar example. I left our rented apartment with no clue who I would meet, what affect they would have on me, and I returned hours later feeling completely inspired and energized. Music is a perfect way to "talk" to strangers, to connect, to seek out and try to understand what might be happening with another human being underneath the surface. Musical performances are public displays, certainly, but the connection we can have with musicians from a single random evening in their midst...profound. Thank you to Pierre-Yves Plat for talking in the way you do, with your fingers on keys, your whole being poured into offering up a beautiful musical message.

Trying to title this podcast, I was uncharacteristically at a loss for words. It's hard to put Alex in a box. He said he would go into one, but only if he knew who he was in there with...Ha. This is why Alex and I have become great friends and confidants over the last five years, ever since we met on the lunchroom balcony of the Omega Institute in Rhinebeck, NY a place seekers like us go to...well, find. In addition to whatever we learned in our workshops, Alex and I found each other. He smiled at me his big smile and gave me such an enthusiastic hello that I felt like we'd been friends forever. Maybe that's what we were there for, to meet each other, who knows. The lady at check-in when I first went, for my 40th birthday, said gravely, "People tend to find what they're looking for here." I'd told her I'd wanted to get lost in the woods somewhere, but was wimping out and getting a "tent cabin" just slightly off the well-lit pathways of the retreat center's main campus. The next morning, I set out on a hike, unprepared and not paying attention as usual, no water or phone, and got completely lost. The words from the intro session about the size of the land and reminders to stay on the paths rang in my ears along with gunshots as the white-tailed bucks bounced by. They seemed to know where they were going, unlike me, who'd gone skipping into the woods never noting a trail marker. And I laughed when finally I found the path: I'd found what I'd come for, to get lost and then trust myself to find my way. I digress, but not really because this podcast is about meeting strangers, this particular episode about meeting Alex Grant and becoming friends. And what he and I do during many video chats weekly from separate sides of the world is to meander over and around our different paths, and we ponder aloud. Which is a good thing. We talk about our connections, what we're looking for, what we find, and what to do about it. Alex is an acupuncturist and a chef and a yogi. He puts together websites and events (like the Hamptons Yogafest I helped out with, and the Yoga of Business workshop he led in my apartment), and is a regular attendee of some fascinating workshops on sex and love and connection that I love to hear about and benefit from sidelong. He is many things, my friend Alex. He is anything he wants to be, which is a good reminder to all of us. The door to that box should stay open maybe, and offer us such a free-range life as this man's. Listen in. And remember: talking to strangers brings great possibilities.

There is definitely something about the cadence of someone's voice. At the crowded poolside bar at the Raleigh Hotel in Miami Beach, on a gorgeous night when the Art Basel art fair had taken over the city, Per Adolfsen's urgent yet mellifluous Danish tone broke through the din. There had been some drinks consumed, surely, that fueled his passionate outcries, but it was obvious from the moment my friend Miok and I met him that Mr. Adolfsen was a force. Honesty is always powerful. The same tone showed through in the art we saw of our new friend's the next day, and in all the art I've seen of his over the last 10 years since we met as strangers in Miami. Recently, having seen some new work, some haunting sketches of nature, I reached out to say how much I loved them. Turns out I am not alone. My friend has garnered quite the following for his so-true renderings of nature. Why? Of course, he doesn't know for sure why they are so popular but he posits, "People see in them the emotions of life, they see themselves, they don't see the trees." I said to Per during our chat that I've always found sketches so revealing of an artist. "It's like brain to paper," I said. And he amended: "Soul to paper..." he said. He talked about how, during a fallow period of art making, he began to teach. But, he said, "I didn't teach them art. I taught them to see." His art teaches all of us to see that thing we so often forget to notice: we are nature. Listen in, and keep track of this great artist's trajectory.Per's work is represented by 532 Gallery Thomas Jaeckel in NYC. You can find him on Instagram @peradolfsen_artist or on https://www.facebook.com/per.adolfsen

I am always amazed at the power of instantaneous connection. The moment I met Joelle Provost at a diner in Brooklyn Heights is a perfect example. A wide-eyed young artist/art teacher, she struck me right away as a powerful force, one I wanted to get to know. I shortly thereafter visited her on the wide porch of the Ditmas Park Victorian she was living in with other artists to view her work, and I knew my instincts were correct: this young woman is gifted with a great vision, and the power to change things for the better through her extraordinarily impactful art. We've talked before on this podcast, but I needed to bring Joelle back on to discuss her latest project, the building of The Whale Sarcophagus, a large-scale collaborative sculpture project which commemorates the life of nine Pacific Gray Whales who tragically washed up near where she lives in San Francisco during Spring of 2019. Some were hit by ships, but the majority died of malnutrition as a result of human actions such as littering, as well as climate change. Building a sarcophagus based on the Ancient Roman burial practice as an homage to the aquatic mammals is Joelle's rallying cry for personal responsibility. And the collaboration it will require fulfills her own sense of responsibility to help employ other artists during Covid, a la (she says) FDR's crucial society-building New Deal. Our conversation is focused around the important themes raised in the creation of The Whale Sarcophagus, themes of the empowerment of individuals, the ability each one of us has to create the world we want to see, and the power of art to create necessary change. Listen in. And visit JoelleProvost.com to learn how you can support this amazing project.

When we sat down together recently at an outdoor cafe on my corner, in Park Slope, I liked Giles Clement immediately. Though he might use one as a photographer, it was clear from his comment about the waitress that in conversation he had no filter. Just my style. I was told weeks ago by my friend Maggie to call Giles. Maggie is the owner of the Krooked Cafe in Tannersville near my new house in the Catskill Mountains of New York, and she is a special human, mother to all. When she left me a message to "Call Giles," and gave his number, I did it, no questions asked. It turns out, Giles Clement and I had a lot to talk about. He grew up on my street, part of the Platte Clove Bruderhof Community, a Christian communal living community. Though he left years back, as a teen, we had a common understanding of the beauty of that spot in the world. Like me, Giles is fascinated with artists' stories. He'd told me over the phone that he was inspired by the pandemic to train his camera on random artists he encountered traveling around in his white van and to tell their story. (Check it out on Instagram @gilesclement and on his site, www.GilesClement.com). I could relate to the concept quite well:)Giles has been living in Brooklyn of late, and I called him to grab coffee. I'm so glad I did, (and not just because of the mustache.) His perspective on the world is honest and refreshing, as clear, funny and insightful as the pictures he snaps of other people. Our conversation (some of it recorded here) lasted all morning into lunch. I love it when that happens. It makes talking to strangers seem like such a great idea! Thanks Maggie, for the introduction, and thank you Giles for your bold insights at a time when too often our conversations are hampered by political correctness. Honest dialogue is much needed.

Sitting at a lookout on a beautiful Catskills trail, staring out toward the Hudson Valley framed below, I caught sight of a young woman running along. She seemed wet, and I wondered aloud to her if there was water from where she'd come. It was a hot day and I was looking to dive in somewhere. She came to a complete stop to regard me, and clearly considered my question a responsibility. She began looking in earnest on her phone for how to guide me to water. She hadn't been in any. She was just covered in sweat actually, she told me, laughing. I immediately liked her. I'm partial to redheads (I married one in the hopes of having redheaded children, but I didn't get them) and her sweet smile and dimples brought me up to chat with her on the trail. I am in awe of solo women hikers, especially ones like Monica who pull off the mountain-lady look with style and grace. And she grew up in the area I am just getting to know, so I was eager to connect. Connect we did. Monica is an architect and a gardener...both skills I could use for my first-ever home, and she loves coming up to the area. Her friendly forthright demeanor had me at hello, and I hope you'll listen in to learn more from this Hudson Valley local about the divides (towns on either side of the mighty river) and how nice it is to find friendly folks:) Making friends from strangers like Monica makes my day!!

Why are Tara Sanders & Earl Legister, Jr. together? "We always connected on the dance floor," Tara says emphatically. And Earl agrees. Of course, there is no way of ever knowing, exactly, what brings two people together, on the dance floor and off. That alchemy is long-studied, long-pondered. But for the last year-plus, the strange chemical equation called 'love' has Tara and Earl in its grips, and they are dancing together, and inspiring others to do the same, especially recently."When Covid first hit, and I was taking stock, I thought 'how can we spread joy, not the virus?'" Tara says. She is a yoga teacher, specifically trained in trauma-informed yoga. We met, Tara and I, at a mindfulness in education workshop at Omega Institute years back, and she'd reached out recently when I bought a house near where she lives outside of Woodstock, NY. But neither yoga nor mindfulness was what she and Earl decided to do to spread joy. Instead, they started making dance videos, lots of them, short choreographed dances, and putting them on social media. People took notice, including me. I love to dance myself, and their videos were so fun and authentic. Then, too, after the George Floyd video, the fact of their biracial coupling...well, it seems a good time to talk about cross-pollination, about the love and connection that exists between people of different colors and backgrounds.Listen in as we chat about this lovely couple's dancing, and their diligent work building community--check out more about Tara's yoga work at https://www.tarasanders.net/.

I found Dr. Edward Lee on Facebook, not exactly sure how. He is a renown professor of history at South Carolina's Winthrop University, an author and lecturer who looks back with reason on the 20th Century. He has more than 4,000 friends on Facebook, humans of all kinds, former students, friends, and strangers he has made friends with from around the world in his efforts to understand what happens, and why. He is clearly much respected for his open ears and open mind. Recently, Dr. Lee posted about his morning walks, and how nature reminded him of the great urgent need to "find common ground." That's when I decided to give him a call, and ask him some questions about history, how we got here and why, and how we avoid the mistakes of the past and find that more harmonious sweet spot where we can all live in peace. Spoiler alert: "Education can level the playing field," he says. And "we have to make fine arts available to everybody." Listen in to this meeting of likeminded strangers...it's always amazing to find kindred spirits in far-flung spots, people of different backgrounds and beliefs who can find lots and lots of lovely crossovers on the important things in the world. Thank you Dr. Lee!

Reason + Flexibility + Love. This is how we get in tune with the stranger within us, and the stranger outside.Nose to the wind...breathe it in. In this episode, we feel our way through. Join us on our journey.

The concept of "friend" on Facebook is a strange one. So often, people request to be 'friends' from all over the world, and I don't even know them. "Why do you accept?" my husband asks. And I think about this. What better way to interact and learn about people from all over the world quickly and easily then social media? Seven years ago, a request came in from a young woman in India named Navodita Singh. I accepted. In the ensuing years, Navodita--a beautiful always-smiling dancing woman-- has liked a variety of my posts, and even commented, and I have done the same on her posts. We seem like kindred spirits, trying to be positive and hopeful, trying to share our inspiration. Recently, Navodita shared a post about her morning ritual with Chai, a traditional Indian beverage, and it occurred to me that this was exactly the reason to be friends with foreign strangers on Facebook. Sharing the rituals that give us pleasure, teaching others the ways in which we practice our daily joy and appreciation for life...I can use all the suggestions I can get!! And, by the way, I love Chai.I reached out to Navodita immediately after seeing her post, and asked if she would like to chat with me on my podcast. She happily agreed, and here is the result: a conversation between "friends" thousands of miles away, about how we get our inspiration, starting with a yummy morning beverage. (I told Navodita about the U.S. "Dirty Chai" I love, that adds a shot of espresso to a cup of Chai...yum!)Here is Navodita's recipe for Chai: Recipe For one cup of chai, you’ll need:Half cup of waterHalf cup of milk1 tbsp sugar1 tbsp tea leavesFreshly grated ginger (for one cup you can have 10gm of ginger)Additional ingredients: cardamom, lemongrass, cinnamon for additional aroma and taste.Process :To a pan add water and milk, boil it for 2 minutes then add tea leaves, sugar and ginger. Let the whole mixture boil for 6-7 minutes. That’s it! Viola, you’ve a cup of chai ready! Let me know how it goes.(You can add the additional ingredients at the time of boiling it)

When I first met NYC artist Agni Zotis at a cafe near her apartment/studio in the Chelsea neighborhood of Manhattan, I knew she was a force to be reckoned with. In her iconic gravelly voice, inflected with a little Greek, by way of Queens, she offered up tales of the nonprofit she created to bring kids much-needed meditation and art, May Kids Transform. And she spoke of the inspiration she'd found for her latest series at the time -- amazing fluorescent depictions of the cosmos, backlit. When I brought my own InspireCorps interns to her place to get inspired last summer, it felt like Agni gave them nothing short of a true understanding of...well, the universe, and humans' small place in it. We sat down and chatted recently about Agni's new pandemic-inspired series, aptly named Silver Lining. She is working fast and furiously during this crazy time. After all, this is the woman whose t-shirts proclaim, BE NICE. She gets it.

The great Americana singer Pi Jacobs has a wonderful idea of how to cope in the face of Covid-19: dance and sing. In her newly released single off her Two Truths And a Lie album, called "No Sin to Be Poor," the effervescent Jacobs recalls her own childhood poverty, and how they managed to get through it by having fun and being silly. "There's no shame in needing help," she says in our chat. And while many people now might need that help, there is never a better time to find creative expressive ways of dealing with it. Her video for the song features real films made by family, friends and fans and posted on social media with the hashtag #NoSin2BPoor. Check it out here.

A major silver lining of the current pandemic is that one can find usually VERY BUSY people at home, and eager to chat. One-time stranger, longtime friend Mr. Brian Elmquist has been very busy in recent years on the road around the world with his spectacularly popular 'Americana' band, The Lone Bellow. But I was able to catch up with him at home in Nashville with his lovely wife and beautiful kids and chat about a whole lot of things including his LIVE streaming concert on Instagram TONIGHT at 10 EST for the great NYC venue Rockwood Music Hall, where I used to see him play back when he was still waiting tables at Dizzy's Diner near my apartment in Brooklyn. Despite the sadly disrupted concert tour for The Lone Bellow's fabulous new album, Half Moon Light, Brian and the gang are still connecting to fans in creative ways, like this show on Instagram tonight to which you can buy tickets here to support @brianelmquist and @rockwoodmusichall. What I have loved about Brian since I first met him at Dizzy's is his incredible desire and talent for connecting to people in a real and honest way. I saw it in his eyes and heard it in his voice when first I saw him play at Rockwood. "You were like an angel," I told him during the podcast. And he was humble in receiving the compliment, as he is, but it's true. Brian first learned to perform in church growing up in Georgia, and his faith--in family, in community, in people, in life - is evident in his music and in talking to him, which I love to do every chance I get. Brian's commitment to building strong communities for all is no more evident than in his performance on behalf of my nonprofit InspireCorps for the kids at PS81. Watch the awesome video here, donated by Brian and his friend James Cernero. And listen in to this great conversation with Mr. Elmquist, at home.

To me, Raed El-Khazen is one of the best examples of how talking to strangers changes the course of one's life. It's hard to know what to say about this man I met 12 years ago at Dizzy's Diner in Park Slope, hard to pin down exactly why when his eyes sparkled at me and his gravelly voice spoke I felt the need to look more closely at myself and at the world. He has that affect on people:) Raed is a musician, and a dedicated devotee of learning and thinking about the ways in which humans need to pursue their passions in life. I so value the time we spent together that spring, summer and fall of 2012, talking over espresso at Colson Patisserie, walking paths I had feared to tread on my own in Prospect Park, working out at the gym (I still hear his voice in my ear, coaxing me to push harder in the weight room). It was, like now, a much needed time out to sort through things, a pause to figure how things might play out better in the future. We are very different, Raed and I. He grew up in Beirut, Lebanon, during a civil war, the son of a Palestinian mother and Lebanese father, who worked hard to support Palestinian refugees. I grew up in sleepy Tucson, Arizona, the daughter of Jewish Zionist parents from Chicago (my mother) and New Jersey (my father.) When we met, I'd just quit my job as a journalist with Advertising Age to raise my young boys, and he was a young childless guitarist working at Dizzy's. There were things we could have found to divide us, but what drew us to one another (I think) was a great desire to live free and clear of other people's rules, and to find for ourselves a reason for being. I credit Raed and the amazing global network of friends from Berklee School of Music I met through him for giving me the great gift of music, allowing me access to the incredible New York music scene, and pushing me to find my own ways of making rhythm, of finding harmony.The summer we hung out, I started seeing dragonflies, big beautiful ones, everywhere I went. They seemed to be showing me my path. I imagined out loud to him one day in the park that we could make a movie of them, flying around, wild but directed, to his guitar. He smiled and told me he'd already made that movie about dragonflies, with his friend Shannon. In the fall, just before he left, back to Beirut, I got a tattoo, of a dragonfly, to remind me of that special time, to honor the important natural connection that can be made between two humans when they have the audacity to do as they please, and a great faith in talking to strangers.

I met Nena Hribar at my friend Saskia's wedding in Fethiye, Turkey, last spring. She is from the tiny European country of Slovenia, and was one of 14 women from all over the world--a mini United Nations--with whom I sat naked in the sauna at a beautiful Turkish Bath (otherwise known as a Hamam). We found ourselves together at the airport in Dalaman, waiting for a plane to Istanbul, and I recorded our chat. I've been looking for the perfect opportunity to put our amazing conversation out into the world, and today seems like it. Today, I drew the Black Panther card in the Medicine Cards deck I pull from every morning. In the explanation of the Black Panther animal medicine, in the book from Jamie Sams & David Carson, it says, "Embracing the Unknown." It went on to say that the Black Panther appears when you need to remember not to worry about the future. "Trust that you are not supposed to mentally 'figure it out' at this time.' I immediately thought of Nena, and the story she told me of her pilgrimage on the Camino de Santiago, of her amazing trust in what she calls "The Love Universe." Her story is an inspiration in putting fear and worry aside, and putting yourself in the mindset of whatever will be will be, hand in hand with the fellow travelers of this Earth, first strangers and then, if we allow it, forever friends.

After an awesome rhythmic drum session and a collaborative chalkboard drawing (beautiful!), my new interns Jalissa and Breanna sat down with me over popcorn and chamomile tea to discuss...well, how they might stay inspired a la Kobe Bryant, to whom they dedicated their gorgeous art work. I talk too much in this, filling in the silence too often with my own thoughts, which is exactly what teachers and adults do badly, so shame on me. These ladies are bright and engaged when given half a chance, totally creative and instinctively smart. We (including me) need to give them the room to trust themselves and hopefully over the next couple months of working together their voices will grow stronger and crowd mine out!!!

My intern, Abby, and I were talking about self expression. She is 16 and admittedly quiet. "How do you do it? Talk to strangers?" she asked. So I decided to show her. We went to Barnes & Noble. We looked around, and I told her I would buy her a journal, and a pen so that she could better connect to her thoughts. We first need to connect to what we think before we are ready to express it. Abby spent a while choosing the journal and pen she wanted. We bought them, and then headed to the cafe to find a stranger. We sat down at a table. I had Ginger, my dog, with me, and I apologized to a young man at the next table for having her. "They'll probably kick us out," I said. He looked me right in the eye, and smiled. Maybe him, I thought. From his reaction, he was game. Abby and I chatted a bit and I looked around. There was a young kid who would be funny, or an older woman alone, reading, who we could probably approach. Most people like to talk even when it doesn't seem like it I find.In the end, I opted for the young man. Henry, he said his name was. Henry Diaz. And he was more than eager to share his thoughts on the world, well-thought-out articulate thoughts on sociability, social media, connection, etc. Abby mostly listened, chiming in occasionally when I drew her out, but she was witness to the success of the mission, of being able to find a stranger and have a lovely conversation. Thank you Abby and Henry for the opportunity! Try it people! Go to a cafe and look up from your phone. Make conversation. Say what you really think, and listen to what the other person thinks. Talk about it. Connect. Please. More than anything else, I think this is what the world needs for peace and love to prevail over war and fear. XXSteph

Since I've known her, Brazilian artist Claudia Vieira has played with lines. Drawing them, using tape to make them, on walls and floors and various surfaces. Her line is continuous, spiraled, repetitive. It is an immersion, a self-reflective cathartic, healing experience of the crossing of space and time, both for the artist and the viewer/participant. Her creations are trance-like journeys, meditations that connect one place to another, one time to another, the world to itself. She and I have not been strangers for a long while, since the first time I encountered her years back and was amazed to watch the way she moved in the world and how she created new worlds with her work, strange fascinating ones. I have asked her and she has obliged to help children create their own worlds too, with their bodies and their imaginations."I refer to life as just the lines, I use my body to do the work," Claudia says in our chat. "It is basically a determined movement, a prayer, a ritual, an exercise..."Rituals are important. Claudia Vieira's upcoming solo show, Double Trace, at Praxis Gallery, starts January 9th. It is the continuation of work begun nearly two decades ago. "It will complete a cycle for me, in a metaphoric biographical way," she says. Double Trace Solo Show, A Live Drawing, a continuous performance til March 7thPraxis Gallery 501 W. 20th St., NYC

Randy makes things from bones and stones, hence the name of his amazing shop in Tannersville, NY: Bones & Stones. He also makes things from animals and bugs. I was incredibly impressed with the creativity of Randy's work, how he takes things from the natural world and creates other things, like lighting fixtures and pipes. It is, of course, ancient practice to utilize our natural resources in creative ways, but sometimes we can forget. Randy is a wonderful breath of fresh air, a fascinating reminder to appreciate what is all around and imagine how we might use it for something else that we need!

I talk to people all the time who are afraid to talk to strangers. You can see it in the set of their shoulders, the way they slump forward. You can see it in the way they avoid your gaze, how they look anywhere but in your eyes. I do what I can. I say something about their shirt or their dress, guess something about how they might be feeling about the weather or how long they've been working their shift, how tired or frustrated they must feel about living life, whether in a big Park Slope Brownstone or in a homeless shelter. People are not so very different. Mostly, people seem closed. Until they feel comfortable. Until you seem to care about them, and how they're feeling. And then...well, then, they begin to blossom. Their posture straightens, a smile replaces the frown, and they suddenly burst with energy and enthusiasm. How do we remind ourselves to help each other open up? How do we learn to feel comfortable with one another, whoever we are? I think we need to start with ourselves. We need to work on feeling good, on smiling at that crazy cat in the mirror and seeing them smile back. We are the first stranger we need to open up to and then, only then, might we dare venture to open to others, to any other, to any stranger. Then and only then will we not feel threatened and afraid. Only then will we feel less vulnerable when we let ourselves be vulnerable. If you'd like, close your eyes and listen to this tune I played on the piano. Let every muscle in your body relax, starting with your head, then your face and neck, your shoulders and arms and hands and fingers, your middle and legs and toes. Relax like a rag doll and let the music wash over you. Rest on the idea of opening up to yourself. Think about what that means, and what you need to do to be able to stare at yourself straight in the eyes. Give up on achieving every goal, being the Success you believe you SHOULD be. Give up the shoulds and woulds and I-ought-tos, and think of what you want to do that gives you pleasure. What you might really love. Ask yourself why you don't do it, just for fun. Think to yourself how you deserve joy and happiness, and rest on that idea as you listen. Rest on the idea of finding one thing or many that you're passionate about, and how you will allow yourself that thing or things because you deserve passion and pleasure. Smile to yourself. Then, afterward, see how much easier it will be to smile at a stranger.

I came across actor/producer Melissa Sutkowski in the park one day this summer, sitting at a tree stump 'desk.' I laughed at the site of her, chilling there with her laptop, which seemed so natural, literally. We got into a conversation about the incredible importance of appreciating nature and it turns out the subject is one of the main themes of Melissa's latest project, a documentary called 'The Messengers.' Listen to the podcast to hear more about her amazing project. When she told me about it, I got the chills...How was it that the exact conversation we struck up about the importance of getting back to nature and hearkening back to the practices of native peoples was the theme of this startling tale she was trying to develop a film around? Talking to strangers always provides fascinating synchronicities. Following your instincts on when to strike up a conversation is part of developing a beautiful harmonious relationship with the world. Find out more about Melissa at melissasutkowski.com

Woody Goldberg and I met years ago in a little cafe in Park Slope called Parco that has since closed. I caught up with him recently in another cafe nearby, Couleur Cafe, and we shared old memories of a bygone time, and talked about his new work as an extra for film and TV...He is, apparently, easily typecast as "an old Brooklyn guy." He is an awesome character, not surprising he has been discovered. I so enjoy meeting up with neighborhood folks like Woody. It can only happen if you make a point of...Talking to Strangers!

Crystal healing is something I'm interested in, and I always buy pieces of rock and stone that appeal to me. I love reading about what they are meant to bring into my life, though I'm always terrible at remembering. When I arrived recently at the Omega Institute, a retreat center in Rhinebeck, NY, for the Juno Women's Leadership Residency I had applied for (and received), I went straight to the bookstore. I figured I'd treat myself to a few crystals and things to support me spiritually throughout the weekend. I was hoping to make some breakthroughs on how to better promote my Get in Tune workshop and this podcast, and the other work I do to promote connection with ourselves and others through artistic means. Surrounding myself with meaningful objects is one way I try to build support for deeper thinking. I couldn't help but be drawn in to the conversation between two ladies likewise gathered around the crystals. They were talking about what they were looking for in their lives and how various crystals might help. I absolutely HAD to talk to these strangers. And I'm so glad I did! Meet Akilah & Seher, and hear more about their journey and the crystals they chose to support them!

I like to tell Dexter that he is the best guest I've ever had in my house, and I've had a lot of guests. His appreciation of my hors d'ouvres the night he came to perform as an alumni of the Musicambia program at Sing Sing Correctional Facility was seriously unparalleled. He is one of the most joyous enthusiastic people I have ever had the pleasure to know. It was probably not easy for Dexter to walk into some stranger's house in Park Slope. It was definitely not easy to talk to a group of people about spending time in prison. But the truth is, in our many conversations since that first time we met, we have found we have so much common--including people--that the differences that might have kept us from connecting don't seem the slightest bit important. We live on opposite sides of Prospect Park, but we met and walked together, talking along the beautiful paths about the importance of trust, caring and self-expression (namely through making music) to build better communities everywhere.

"Critical Revolutionary Hip Hop Pedagogy." He said it fast, like he would on stage. But I had to stop him, to get him to explain. Spiritchild's work with youth, and in the prison system, with homeless and refugees through programs including Urban Art Beat is something to stop and pay attention to. It's critical. And revolutionary. It uses Hip Hop as a creative tool to engage and inspire collaboration in a new way, an engaging way. And, oh yeah, part of his 'revolution' is to open up more dialogue about polyamory. We talk a lot in our looooooong conversation (that went on hours after the recording stopped) about the importance of love in the world, lots of it, sans restrictions. What would that look like? Listen to the podcast to hear some theories...

Sometimes, at a party, there is a particular person who stands out. Maybe it's their smile, or their seemingly-ironic mustache. You start talking, and you keep talking. Such was the case with Alex Gasser Londono, a funny whip-smart young Berklee grad with an admittedly ironic mustache who has come to New York to play bass, guitar and compose beautiful songs like "Who is Who," which I was lucky enough to have him sing to me in my living room in this episode. We discuss the challenges of making it in NYC as a musician, and the challenges of making your way period when everything can seem so...well, listen in to see what Alex thinks of it all.