Connection & Surrender
- Ravi Ram
- 3 days ago
- 10 min read
Updated: 13 hours ago
"What if it all works out?"
My close friend Axel and I kept texting each other this throughout 2025.
We met in March for the first time in years. That first night I stayed with him in Singapore, we chatted on his couch until some absurd hour of the night, our eyes watering both from laughing at childish jokes and from crying as we shared our struggles (I dare you to watch this and not laugh).
It was a microcosm of my year, waves of joy and waves of pain. It honestly feels REALLY good to look back and feel so proud of how I came through 2025, even if I still feel grief. What helped me navigate the year was a combination of vulnerable connection and openhearted surrender.
This combination isn't groundbreaking or novel - it's something a bazillion people have advocated for over time.
Even if the concept makes sense, the practice was (and is) hard - especially in a world increasingly driven by efficiency, productivity, social media, and AI. Atelic activities aren't often celebrated.
To me, vulnerable connection and openhearted surrender means intentionally putting yourself in a position to bond with others, sharing openly about your life from a place of honesty, being curious about uncertainty, and then letting things play out as they will.
It looks like repeatedly taking small risks, with people, that we aren't sure will work out or be "worth it" - and then patiently sitting with the discomfort.
It's engaging in what's in front of us (e.g., talking to people, doing an activity, going places, leaning into experiences), and holding the question: "What if it all works out?"
We can do more and more things today without needing to interact with a single other human (have groceries and food delivered, look up directions, get medical and professional advice, etc). And in a professional and personal sense, many of us feel an increasing need to curate our image.
(Side note, an interesting practice: In Singapore, on the MRT, I'd sometimes challenge myself by trying to not look at my phone for just 60-90 seconds in between stations. To just feel bored and unproductive. No podcasts, no emails, nothing. I'd look around the train car and be SHOCKED at how every single other person was on their phone - not a SINGLE other person even looking up. The irony was I found myself wanting to capture this, but I couldn't take a video without being on my phone myself - so instead, I encourage you to take a look at this powerful series of images, I find it both jarring and inspiring).
So even in publishing this writing right now, I feel really nervous.
I'm scared that putting something this raw out into the ether will lead to judgment from others and could affect my professional opportunities -- even if I feel optimistic and hopeful that my words will resonate with many people, and inspire us to all connect more.
As someone who has lived a nomadic lifestyle for the past few years (both out of necessity and out of choice), prioritizing connection has required a lot of effort.
I was all over the place this past year, in every sense. Geographically, I spent 40% of the year in Singapore, Thailand, India, and the Philippines. Another 45% in Arizona, California, DC, and New York. And 15% across another 20 cities in 8 countries all over the world.
People told me that my life seemed like a fairytale. And in some ways, it's true - it's been incredible. In parallel, I've also often felt lonely or lost.
There are innumerable articles out there which talk about how the quality of our long-term relationships is the single most important indicator of our health and joy in life.
Unlike many others, I'm not someone who has had the same group of close friends since childhood or university -- I've instead formed a lot of separate but really close bonds with a lot of amazing people in a lot of different cities, jobs, schools, experiences.
So for a while this year, I started questioning my choices. I almost felt I'd messed up or missed out by not investing in the same few people or places forever.
It took repeated reminders from my parents that even though I may not have the same 5-10 "ride-or-die" friends who've known me for 15+ years and who would proactively reach out to me to see how I'm doing, I also did have friends in almost every corner of the world who would love to see me - if I made the effort first.
If I just took the time to literally list out their names, reach out, and openly (and sometimes brazenly) ask if I could have a meal with them, visit them, or stay at their homes, I'd be surprised at how much love I'd receive.
So let's get specific. What happened in 2025 which really lifted me up and also really knocked me down?
(1) A relationship: I first felt distanced from a couple of people I'd been close with for many years. I acknowledge my part in these - but it still hurts.
These separations, however, also freed me up to spontaneously dive headfirst into one of the best relationships of my life.
I felt incredibly warm and fuzzy hearing about the littlest moments of her day, and sharing the same with her. I distinctly remember a blissful night, me lying in a hammock in Tucson looking up at the stars, her sitting poolside in the Philippines, the two of us talking on the phone for hours without noticing the time pass by.
And then I also felt the intense, aching pain of losing her.
I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest even though I had zero idea if things would've really worked out between us, or what the future would've held. Seeing the places we used to spend time together hurt like hell.
(PS it was followed by what felt like a village-full of aunties and relatives ask me why I'm single, when I'm getting married, or tell my mom she should've found someone for me by now - very lol).
"What if it all works out?"
(2) A shift in professional focus: I parted ways with a company which gave me so much, where I loved being part of a values-driven team working towards a common goal. I missed being a leader and seeing the same faces every day, people who I loved dearly, who pushed me every day to get better, both as a professional and a human.
I also felt so energized fully dedicating myself professionally to doing the work I currently love most: running programs in multiple languages across numerous organizations, building deep bonds with people as I teach and stay embedded in teams (man it feels so good to not sit at a desk or in front of a computer for hours every day).
Even still, I feel the isolation and the lack of security from fully working for myself to generate my own income.
"What if it all works out?"
(3) Wandering and (mis)adventures: I craved the stability of having one home base where I could join a sports team or make plans with a friend at the drop of a hat, where I'd feel the warmth of returning to my own apartment every evening instead of carrying the shampoo and conditioner I like in travel-size bottles. But alongside my nomadic instability, I also had an incredible depth and breadth of experiences across 13 countries.
(Btw my mind is still blown by how good the Qatar Airways toiletry bag smells, even MONTHS after a flight. Maybe even better than my YSL cologne. It's ridiculous).
I reconnected with people from every chapter of my life. I swam in some ridiculously beautiful beaches and lakes and waterfalls, hiked up to viewpoints that felt like I was on another planet, meditated in monasteries with lamas, watched cricket matches and danced at concerts in iconic locations. And ate a mad amount of delicious noodles.
I also got stung by a jellyfish, had an allergic reaction to a mosquito bite and went to the hospital, scraped my legs on coral, almost fell off a cliff, actually did fall off a scooter, got wildly bad food poisoning, missed multiple flights, had a stranger take my luggage, and struggled to find vegetarian food at times.
I had many friends ask me why I was still wandering, tell me that it was time to choose one place and stick to it, warn me that I'm going to be alone and/or unhappy unless I change my patterns of behavior. And I wondered if they were right.
"What if it all works out?"
(4) Fluctuating health: I struggled to make peace with different physical and mental health difficulties, both new and old. I felt so frustrated at times, as if I didn't have any agency over how things would play out. I tried participating in improv jams, yoga classes, run clubs, group tours, conferences -- and still often felt lonely, just watching Ted Lasso in my various temporary apartments till 4am.
And I also felt immense joy, building more resilience than I've ever had to sit with the unknown by swapping stories with people about our battle scars (and reminding myself how boring life would be if we already knew how everything would unfold).
"What if it all works out?"
So what helped through all the waves?
It perhaps sounds trite, but I first told myself on my birthday at the end of July that even if it didn't feel like it, I needed to somehow believe that things were happening for me, not to me.
And then, to again be trite, I needed to take action while simultaneously practicing surrender. In baby steps.
I needed to lean into the inherent waves of life instead of believing I could always be (and try to be) happy.
(side note: I still feel annoyed at a therapist of mine who once asked me if it's realistic to be happy 100% of the time.. even though it was the question I needed to ask myself, and I knew the answer).
Growth comes with discomfort. Trust comes with fear. Solitude comes with loneliness. Joy comes with pain. Love comes with grief.
Eating massive amounts of delicious Thai curry and grilled cheese sandwiches and Japanese nutella pancakes comes with sitting bloated on a couch with stomachache knowing you absolutely didn't need that amount of food.
Sometimes it all felt really "barf-y", just reading inspirational quotes about shifting my mindset and staying resilient (side note: barfi is actually delicious, especially almond).
But it's all a practice, just like anything else in life. Again, there's something really beautiful about practice without expectation of outcome.
I'm not sure I believe anymore that you ever get to an endpoint, where you "make it", despite philosophies I've heard since being a kid about enlightenment, heaven, moksha, eternal bliss. Doesn't mean we can't still practice whatever we want (watch from 0:28-2:14, gorgeous).
I am getting more and more comfy with the reality that waves are a part of life. They're everywhere in our universe. Sounds are vibrations. Oceans have tides. Our planet has an orbit. We have seasons. (Even though yes, the Tucson boy in me still just wants it to be sunny all the time).
So when the waves inevitably come for the rest of my life, I hope to keep reminding myself that one of the most beautiful things we can do is still put ourselves out there and try to connect with others, both new and familiar, while still surrendering to whatever happens, to not be attached to the outcome.
"What if it all works out?"
Take a walk without wondering how far or how long you've gone (and barf at other people's Strava posts.. jk I don't want to be the judge-y one).
Listen to music. Dance. (pro tip: Sing Sing Theater in Bangkok plays incredible 2010s bangers, shout out to all the legends who went dancing there with me in 2025).
Play a sport without trying to win, just for the love of the game.
In 2026, I'm going to encourage myself, and all of you, to be an initiator of connection. Initiate from a place of vulnerability and openhearted courage. Try to connect, and surrender.
I remember when I had to ask strangers for directions to the 1 vegetarian restaurant in Madrid when I lived there in 2012 (pre-smartphone era for me). And honestly in retrospect, it was kind of cool. It felt like a win to have the courage to do that. I miss fully having to wander like that sometimes (other times thank goodness for G-Maps).
It's easier to judge than to be vulnerable. It's easier to share your opinion than to ask questions. It's easier to wait for someone else to make the first effort, than to go out on a limb and try. Often the hard thing and the game-changing thing are one and the same.
So let's set an intention to actually connect with humans and make a repeated effort to do so.
Call someone spontaneously instead of texting them "I'm here if you need me" or "Great to hear from you, I'd love to chat sometime" -- even if we know it'll feel awkward, forced, or painful at times.
Go visit someone. Talk to someone new. Smile. Say thank you. Be vulnerable even if people judge or mock you. Practice listening with more presence. Try and fail. Try and fail again. And someone's life will be so much more beautiful for your efforts, regardless of how things play out. Try to connect, and then surrender.
"What if it all works out?"
I'll share again a beautiful video that I shared in a past blog post, with a voice over by Alan Watts. We watch this over and over in many of the trainings I facilitate. My favorite passage:
"We thought of life by analogy with a journey, with a pilgrimage, which had a serious purpose at the end, and the thing was to get to that end, success or whatever it is, or maybe heaven after you're dead. But we missed the point the whole way along, it was a musical thing and you were supposed to sing or dance while the music was being played."
I'll end by saying thank you to everyone who hosted me, taught alongside me, swam and danced and hiked and misadventured with me, made me laugh, shared a mad amount of food with me, and sent good energy my way. I'm truly grateful you made time for me.
"What if it all works out?"

