The last couple of days have felt… complete in a way that’s hard to rush past.
I finished the draft of my book, Starving for Connection: Social Capital in a Hyper “Connected” World. There are still personal stories to weave in—lived moments that give the ideas breath—but structurally, it’s there. Solid. Grounded. Whole. There’s a particular kind of relief that comes not from finishing, but from realizing that something long carried has finally found its form.
It didn’t arrive with fireworks.
It arrived quietly.
And that felt right.
Making a Home That Reflects Who We Are Now
Alongside that creative milestone, Alison and I have started remodeling our primary home—beginning with the bedroom. We’ve been leaning into moody colors, depth, warmth, and antique pieces that feel storied rather than staged.
There’s something deeply intimate about shaping a space together. About choosing textures and tones that reflect not who you were—but who you’ve become. Home, at its best, isn’t a showroom. It’s a reflection. A container for rest, love, and becoming.
The Quiet Education of the World Around Us
Lately, I’ve also been paying attention to something deceptively simple: people watching. Sitting still. Listening. Letting the ambient buzz of the world wash over me.
Snippets of conversation. Laughter. Tension. Tenderness. Passing moments I’ll never fully know.
And yet, each one tells me something.
Every face carries a story. Every room is filled with lives unfolding in parallel. Dreams being tested. Losses being held. Joys being protected. The world hums with meaning if we slow down enough to notice it.
Overwhelmed—in the Best Way
As I’ve been sitting with all of this, I’ve felt something rise up that’s difficult to name without sounding sentimental.
Gratitude.
Not the performative kind. The kind that catches you off guard. The kind that makes you pause mid-thought and breathe a little deeper.
I’m grateful for my life.
For the love I share.
For the people who matter most to me.
For the connections that have shaped me—and the ones still forming.
There are moments when the weight of that gratitude feels almost overwhelming. Not heavy—but expansive. As if my chest needs to stretch to hold it all.
And in those moments, I’m reminded:
This is what connection is meant to feel like.
Not loud.
Not transactional.
Just real.
— The Social Capitalist
The Official Author Page of Dr. Rick L. Mask (The Social Capitalist) and the Home of Social Capital 2.0 