Talking With Strangers

Rewriting the stories we’ve been told about aging—one powerful conversation at a time.

I’ve always loved striking up conversations with strangers. Maybe it’s the anthropologist in me, or maybe it’s the fact that these moments—brief, unexpected, unfiltered—often reveal the deepest truths about who we are and what connects us.

Sometimes these conversations happen while waiting for a train. Other times, they unfold in a Zoom room, as this one did. I met

Cathy Joseph

during a virtual session, organized by the incredible writer-connector

SuddenlyJamie

, and from the moment she spoke, I felt drawn in by her warmth, quick wit, and luminous energy. One spontaneous exchange led to another, and soon I found myself asking if we could “sit down” for a more in-depth conversation—she in New York City, me in Vancouver, BC.

She said yes. And I’m so glad she did.

And as we spoke, I realized we had more in common than I expected.

We both come from families shaped by immigration and the kind of parental hopes that valued material security and stability above all else. And yet both of us chose something different —lives built around exploration and movement, driven by a thirst for expansion and a willingness to take risks that our parents have found bewildering (and perhaps others too).

We’ve each lived in multiple places, taken unconventional paths, and been married twice and don’t have children. Cathy speaks about these marriages with neither regret nor apology. There’s no bitterness, no self-blame—just clarity. They weren’t the right fit, and she knows herself to be whole regardless. We are both child-free, I by circumstance, she by choice and again, no regret or apology, motherhood wasn’t a longing for her. While she remains open to future romantic partnership, she has many rich and fulfilling relationships, so she’s not searching from a place of lack.

This, I thought, is something more of us need to hear. Especially as we age.

So back to my quest to find out the conditions that help someone thrive in midlife and beyond? Cathy’s perspective gave me a few potent clues—and yes, they surfaced through the kind of organic meaningful dialogue she explores regularly in her own writing.

Cathy writes beautifully in a Substack called Random Conversations, where she reflects on the unscripted, human moments that connect us. It’s a space shaped by curiosity, storytelling, and the wisdom that can surface when we pause to really listen without judgment—to others and to ourselves. Cathy points out that too often judgment kicks in and we stop listening, especially in these times of fractured communication. She says, “I consider curiosity and listening without judgment to be superpowers”.

In many ways, this piece is a continuation of that ethos. A conversation that began as chance, then deepened into insight. A reminder that the stories we need most often arrive in packaging that may surprise us.

Cathy works as an independent consultant and training facilitator, specializing in strength-based change. She lights up when she talks about her work—work she has no plans to retire from EVER. Her career so clearly nourishes her not just professionally, but personally.

One of the most meaningful experiences of her career, she told me, was facilitating a program for UNICEF in Islamabad, Pakistan.

“My Voice, Our Story was created to surface and amplify the visions of the future held by the youth of Pakistan,” she explained. “We used Appreciative Inquiry as the interview methodology—it was powerful and deeply moving.”

She shared a photo from that time (included below). There is a special warmth, connection, and shared purpose that her approach cultivates—whether in a training room, a virtual call, or an impromptu conversation with a stranger.

So what has helped Cathy flourish and what can we learn from that as we navigate midlife and beyond?

Here’s what stood out.

1. The Power of Compartmentalization- Practical Resilience

Cathy has lived many different lives in many places— from Ohio (her birthplace) to Arizona (four cities), Los Angeles, Johannesburg, Connecticut (five cities), and now New York City. She says: “It took all those moves to finally find home”.

Over time, she’s developed a powerful ability to prioritize. Compartmentalizing, she explained, helps her manage challenges one at a time without becoming overwhelmed. It’s how she adapts, protects her energy, and stays grounded in the face of complexity. She’s weathered big moves, significant losses, and change—but has learned to adapt. She made many adjustments and employed some fancy footwork where required. This type of inner agility you don’t develop with out being tested and choosing, again and again, not to harden—but to bend, not break.

Far from avoidance, this kind of compartmentalization seems to me a potent form of wisdom. It’s knowing where your energy is best spent—and where it isn’t.

Many other Pink Zones women I have spoken to have called this “having less f’s to give”, and often add that one must know how precious these f’s are and where to spend them.

2. Trust in Life’s Flow- Emotional-Spiritual Trust

“I have had phenomenal people in my life,” Cathy told me. “I have a safety net with my friends. I trust that whatever I need will be there when I need it, because that’s what life has shown me—over and over again.”

That kind of trust doesn’t come from naïveté; it’s forged from lived experience. It's a deep-rooted belief that resources—emotional, relational, even spiritual—will rise to meet you when you need and call upon them.

3. Rethinking the Narrative of Aging

One of the most striking things Cathy said was:

“Aging is not the answer to everything.”

How often do we blame a sore knee, fatigue, or mental fog on the simple fact that we're “getting older”? As if that’s the full story. As if there’s nothing else to explore.

Cathy’s powerful reframe: Aging is an inevitable process in life, yes—but it isn’t the root of every difficulty.

Too often, we lean toward attributing each of life’s challenges or discomforts to getting older in years. For instance, someone might say, 'My hip is sore—well, that’s just old age for you,' or, 'I’m tired, but what else can you expect when you’re getting older?'

This is potent! Naturally, aging does bring changes and challenges. It’s a fact that our bodies will not have the same function as they did in our earlier years.

But while this change is certain we have some agency here. For example, mobility can be improved at any age. Even in our 20s, a herniated disc might require months of rehab, and in our 30s, pushing beyond our limits can also lead to exhaustion.

When we default to age as the culprit, we can overlook what’s actually within our control—how we care for ourselves, the habits we’ve neglected, or the limiting beliefs we’ve inherited.

Age may change our bodies, but decline is not a foregone conclusion.

By challenging these narratives, like Cathy does we open ourselves to a more empowered and optimistic view of aging—one that embraces growth, agency, and the possibility of addressing issues beyond simply declaring them as *sigh* 'part of getting older.'

Not every bodyache or heartache is age’s fault—but it’s the lens through which we look at things that makes the difference. And sometimes, what changes everything… is a conversation.

(If you're curious about how cultural narratives around menopause and aging shape our experience—and even our symptoms—I dive into that more here in my piece on the Nocebo Effect.)

Cathy shared this:

“When we blame aging for whatever ails us, we set ourselves on a downward trajectory. We validate over and over that we are old and getting older still. Age doesn’t have to plummet our wellbeing downward – it can also enable it to soar upward”.

4. Connection as Lifeblood

The willingness to talk to strangers, to stay close with tried-and-true friends while also expanding our circles of connection—these, too, are beyond survival skills. Cathy’s story reminded me of the importance of staying open, curious, and relational. Not just for joy, but for true resilience.

Talking to Cathy reminded me of how expansive aging can be—not in spite of our years, but because of them. With more life experience, we can learn to hold more: more self-awareness, more agency, more trust. And we can redefine thriving on our own terms (not our parents, not our culture). What I walked away with, after speaking to this stranger-turned-guide, was this:

Not every ache of the body—or the heart—is age’s fault.

And what matters most?

· How we tend to ourselves.

· The stories we inherit/carry—and whether we pause to question them.

· And how we show up for the connections that hold us.

Has a conversation ever cracked open an aging myth you once believed and are now ready to question?