We can work from home, order groceries without seeing anyone, stream entertainment without leaving the house, and communicate with people through screens at any hour of the day. The convenience is real. But according to Dr. Julianne Holt-Lundstad, convenience can come with an unintended cost.
“It’s become so comfortable that it reinforces isolation,” she says.
Holt-Lundstad is a professor of psychology and neuroscience and a researcher focused on translating evidence about social connection into real-world applications. Not long ago, we had a conversation about social connection and what role Encircle plays in the overall health of its guests. For her, connection isn't simply about how many people we know or how often we interact with them. It is a complex part of our lives that encompasses the structure, function and quality of our relationships.
And she believes we need to start treating it as something essential.
“For so long, social connection has been viewed as a soft issue,” she says. “Something that perhaps increases the quality of our life. But we now know that it is essential, not just a perk, but essential.”
Holt-Lundstad begins with something fundamental: humans are social beings.
“Humans are fundamentally a social species,” she says. “Throughout human history, we have needed others to survive.”
Our biology reflects that reality. According to Holt-Lundstad, when we are isolated or surrounded by people we cannot trust, our brains have to work harder. We become more vigilant and have to devote more energy to managing the demands around us.
Social connection, then, isn't simply about whether we feel happier when we have friends around. Holt-Lundstad describes it as something embedded in our biology—something that affects our health, our well-being and our behavior.
That makes the gradual erosion of everyday opportunities to connect especially concerning.
Holt-Lundstad points out that our growing disconnection didn't begin with the COVID-19 pandemic, smartphones or social media. The shift away from third spaces (places of community apart from home, work or school) has been happening for decades.
People have increasingly spent more time alone and less time with friends and family. Participation in groups and clubs has declined. And modern conveniences have made it remarkably easy to avoid the ordinary interactions that once happened as part of daily life.
“We can get all of our shopping and groceries delivered,” she says. “We can stream all of our entertainment from home.” We can work remotely, attend appointments online and interact with others without physically going anywhere.
None of those things is inherently bad. Holt-Lundstad acknowledges that these tools offer tremendous convenience.
The problem is what happens when convenience consistently replaces connection.
“Even if you don’t feel lonely,” she says, “if you find yourself consistently opting for staying at home instead of going out, if you’re consistently turning down plans or opting for something more convenient, but yet takes you away from other people, you ought to start questioning that.”
She compares social engagement to physical activity. If we get out of the habit of doing it, getting started again can feel uncomfortable.
“But it doesn’t mean that it isn’t good for you,” she says, “and that those rewards won’t come over time.”
Connection isn't simply about being physically surrounded by other people.
Holt-Lundstad makes an important distinction: someone can be in a crowd, at a party or even in a marriage and still feel profoundly lonely.
Loneliness, she explains, is about the gap between the connection we want and the connection we actually experience.
And when people don't feel accepted or don't feel that they belong, they can find themselves in an especially vulnerable position.
“When people don’t feel accepted or that they belong, it really is a vulnerable place to be in,” she says.
Feeling outside the group, or being surrounded by people we don't trust, can make us feel frightened and unsafe. Our physiology can go on high alert, increasing stress and anxiety. That can lead to defensive feelings and behavior.
“That defensive behavior then makes it harder for others to connect with you,” Holt-Lundstad explains. “It can create this self fulfilling prophecy.”
For her, creating environments where people feel accepted and safe is therefore an important part of breaking that cycle.
This is where places like Encircle become especially important.
Holt-Lundstad describes third spaces as places that are specifically designed for people to gather.
“We know that spaces matter,” she says. “In fact, there is an entire field of study focused specifically on third spaces—these kinds of spaces that aren’t work, aren’t school, aren’t home, but places to gather.”
And simply having a welcoming place to go can make a difference.
“Having a place such as Encircle to gather, that, in and of itself, is important because it’s a place where you know that you can just connect with other people.”
That matters at a time when, as Holt-Lundstad observes, third spaces are disappearing.
We have increasingly organized our lives around productivity—working, going to school, accomplishing tasks, achieving goals. In the process, we have pushed aside time and physical spaces for simply being together.
“It’s this economic drive, or success drive, and we’ve pushed out room for socializing,” she says. “And yet, it’s so critically important, of course, just having a place where people can gather.”
Encircle offers precisely that: a physical place where people can show up, spend time together and build relationships.
One of the most important things Holt-Lundstad emphasizes is that meaningful relationships don't necessarily happen immediately.
“We know that, also, in terms of both relationship formation and maintenance, you need to have consistent contact,” she says.
That's why a regular gathering place can be so powerful.
“Seeing the same faces, you can start to slowly build that trust and build that sense of acceptance and belonging.”
Slowly is the key word.
“It’s not gonna happen right away,” she says. “Don’t be frustrated if you’re not instantly best friends with someone, because it’s typical that these things build over time. Trust takes time to build.”
A third space creates the conditions for that process to happen naturally. You don't have to manufacture a friendship in a single interaction. You can simply keep showing up.
Over time, familiar faces become relationships. Relationships can become trust. And trust can become a sense of belonging.
Holt-Lundstad sees particular value in spaces where people share similar backgrounds, values or circumstances.
“Having that consistency in a place that is a safe place, where people have gathered around similar backgrounds and values, and circumstances, can be an entry point for building those kinds of trusting relationships.”
There is another reason places like Encircle matter: not everyone has easy access to social spaces.
Holt-Lundstad points out that many traditional third spaces have become commercialized. Meeting people can mean paying for a meal, a membership, a subscription or an activity. Even transportation, time and other resources can become barriers.
“The more we can break down these barriers,” she says, “the more we can facilitate these things happening naturally.”
A place designed specifically for gathering can remove some of those obstacles. It gives people somewhere to go without requiring a purchase or a particular reason to be there. It makes connection part of the environment.
Holt-Lundstad also challenges the pervasive message of modern culture that independence is always the goal.
“We live in a society that elevates independence, rather than interdependence,” she says.
“But the reality is that we are interdependent. We need each other.”
That means connection isn't only about having people who can help us. It is also about having opportunities to help others.
“Humans need other humans,” she says. “And humans need to feel needed, too.”
Sometimes we hesitate to ask for help because we don't want to inconvenience someone. But Holt-Lundstad encourages us to see that differently.
“Anytime you find yourself hesitating to ask for help,” she says, “think about you’re also maybe denying someone the privilege of being able to help someone else and feel needed, as well.”
In other words, allowing ourselves to need one another can actually strengthen community.
“The more we show up for other people, the more they’re going to show up for you,” she says. “And the more we can build that community, we have that, in turn, for ourselves when we’re struggling.”
Holt-Lundstad isn't dismissive of technology.
“We live in a society that is abundantly connected through screens and other kinds of digital technologies,” she says. “And for some people, that can be a lifeline.”
But she draws a clear distinction between digital and in-person connection.
“However, it doesn’t replace in-person connection.”
The pandemic offered a vivid illustration of that difference.
“Those screens were not enough,” she says. “We know, just even from our own personal experiences, where those things fell short.”
That makes the opportunity to physically gather even more important.
“When you’re tempted to take the convenient route of just logging on, rather than getting up, going out and heading over, maybe to the Encircle house,” Holt-Lundstad says, “just remember that you will be glad you did it once you’re there.”
The challenge isn't necessarily knowing that connection matters. Sometimes it's getting ourselves through the door.
For parents wondering whether a place like Encircle can really make a difference, Holt-Lundstad offers another way of looking at it.
“Sometimes, what might seem small can have a ripple effect.”
Maybe a young person walks into a place where they feel accepted and gains a little confidence.
“That confidence might lead to making a friend.”
And that friend can be the beginning of something much larger.
Holt-Lundstad describes how even an increase in someone's social circle can have effects that reach far beyond that initial relationship, including mental health, physical health, school performance, future opportunities and how people function in their workplaces and communities.
“So, it doesn’t just impact the health and functioning of that kid,” she says, “but it impacts the health and functioning of the communities they show up in, the workplaces they show up in, and the society we hope to build.”
That is the larger promise of a place like Encircle.
A young person doesn't have to walk through the door knowing that they are about to change their life.
They just have to walk through the door.
They can meet someone. Come back next week. See a familiar face. Help someone else. Become more comfortable. Build trust. Make a friend.
And then another connection can grow from that one.
Holt-Lundstad returns again and again to a simple idea: we need to show up for one another.
We need places where showing up is possible.
We need opportunities to see the same people repeatedly, to build trust gradually and to experience acceptance.
We need spaces that make connection accessible rather than turning it into another thing we have to purchase, schedule or optimize.
And we need to remember that connection isn't a soft extra added to an otherwise successful life.
“It is essential, not just a perk, but essential.”
In a world where it's increasingly easy to stay home, stay behind a screen and avoid the discomfort of putting ourselves out there, an open door can be surprisingly powerful.
A place like Encircle gives people somewhere to go.
Somewhere to see other people.
Somewhere to become a familiar face.
Somewhere to help and be helped.
Somewhere to slowly build trust.
And, ultimately, somewhere to belong.
As Holt-Lundstad puts it: “When you’ve got a place, such as Encircle, where you can show up and you’re always welcome, why not take advantage of it?”