Spending time with Ryan, I listened as he talked about challenges in his life and work. It was the first time I had heard an American speak so openly about topics like these, and it caught me by surprise.
I quickly realized that this was a vulnerable moment for him. Everyone goes through periods like this, even people who appear confident, articulate, and fully in control of what they do. When he chose to open up to me, it occurred to me that I might be the only person he felt able to speak to in that way at that moment. That made listening itself meaningful.
This was something I could offer, so I chose to stay present and respond with care. I did not need to do more. Some moments are not about providing solutions. People in vulnerable states are often fully capable of solving their own problems. What they need instead is emotional support. I let him know that if he wanted advice, he could always ask, but I did not feel the need to tell him what to do.
Later, we visited a bookstore and looked through photography books about New York, Boston, and Washington, D.C. I found myself drawn to the atmosphere captured in those images.
It was a rainy Saturday, yet it did not feel heavy. Instead, I felt a quiet sense of fulfillment. Perhaps because I saw that I could be helpful to someone else, even if only through the choice to be present. At that moment, the idea of hopepunk came back to me. Somehow, I felt grounded and whole.