For the better part of six weeks, my world felt smaller.
Not metaphorically. Literally.
For six weeks, I was sick.
Not the kind of sick where you spend a few days on the couch and bounce back. The kind that lingers. The kind that slowly wears you down. The kind that makes you question whether feeling healthy was something you simply imagined in a previous life.
After multiple doctor visits and a battery of tests, the usual suspects were ruled out. No COVID. No pneumonia. No flu. No strep throat.
And yet there it was.
Persistent. Relentless. Exhausting.
To make matters more challenging, my wife Alison was navigating the same thing. We were both doing our best to show up for our responsibilities, our work, our home, and each other. Some days we succeeded. Some days survival felt like success enough.
Looking back now, I realize how much I take health for granted when I have it.
Health is one of those things that becomes invisible until it disappears.
When you’re healthy, you make plans.
When you’re sick, you make it through the day.
And for six weeks, the goal was simply to keep moving forward.
The funny thing about difficult seasons is that they often create space for reflection.
When your body forces you to slow down, your mind has a tendency to wander toward the future.
While recovering, I found myself planning.
Thinking.
Building.
Dreaming.
I have several conference proposals in motion—one for this fall and another for next spring. The opportunity to continue speaking about social capital, human connection, leadership, and the future of our communities remains deeply meaningful to me.
At the same time, I’ve been reconnecting with international partners following the NAFSA conference. Conversations have continued. Relationships are growing. Possibilities are beginning to take shape.
Anyone who has worked in international education knows that meaningful partnerships rarely happen overnight. They require trust. They require patience. They require consistent investment long before contracts are signed.
But I’m optimistic.
My hope is that in the coming months, some of these conversations turn into commitments and some of these ideas find their way onto paper. There is something deeply satisfying about building opportunities that transcend borders and create meaningful access for learners around the world.
Travel is also beginning to reappear on the horizon.
This summer, I’ll be returning to Paris.
Again.
Which continues to amuse me because Paris remains one of my least favorite cities.
I know. I know.
That statement alone may cost me several readers.
Don’t misunderstand me. Paris is beautiful. Historic. Iconic. It deserves every bit of admiration it receives.
But travel has taught me something important: sometimes we don’t return to places because we love the place itself.
Sometimes we return because of who we become there.
And perhaps that’s what this trip represents.
Not Paris.
Growth.
Perspective.
Adventure.
The opportunity to experience the world alongside people I care about.
This fall will bring another trip back to Tennessee.
There is work to be done on one of our Airbnbs, but there is also something more personal waiting for me there.
A religious festival.
Community.
Connection.
A return to people and places that remind me where I came from.
There is a rhythm to Tennessee that still feels familiar to my soul. The conversations are different. The pace is different. The connection feels different.
And every time I return, I leave feeling a little more grounded than when I arrived.
As I sit here now, finally emerging from six weeks of illness, I find myself feeling something I haven’t felt in quite a while.
Momentum.
Not frantic energy.
Not hustle.
Not urgency.
Momentum.
The kind that comes after surviving a difficult season.
The kind that reminds you that winter eventually ends.
The kind that makes future plans feel exciting again.
The sickness was hard.
There’s no need to romanticize it.
It was exhausting, frustrating, and at times discouraging.
But it also reminded me of something important:
When you finally regain your health, your energy, and your sense of possibility, gratitude arrives quickly.
And looking at what lies ahead—new partnerships, new speaking opportunities, international travel, time with family, time with community, and the continued pursuit of meaningful work—I find myself deeply grateful.
Winter may have overstayed its welcome.
But spring looks pretty epic.
— The Social Capitalist
The Official Author Page of Dr. Rick L. Mask (The Social Capitalist) and the Home of Social Capital 2.0 