This month I traveled to New York City, meeting with alumni and longtime Oak Grove donors. Seeing how our alumni carry Oak Grove into the world, I am reminded of the deep roots our school has nurtured over fifty years. Each interaction reflects a quiet confidence, openness, and authentic presence. It is a joy to serve this small school and witness its meaningful impact.

As I was traveling from one part of the city to another, I found myself on a crowded subway. I was struck by the intimacy of being pressed so close to so many strangers and yet so disconnected. Most people were looking down at their phones. A young woman sat with her purse clutched tightly to her chest, her eyes closed – I couldn’t tell if she was asleep, meditating, or practicing a stress-reduction tool. Her face was taut with concentration.

Next to her, a professionally dressed woman was carefully applying artificial nails. I first noticed this activity as she affixed the second nail and, glancing back a few times, found myself satisfied to see her progress. I felt a sort of accomplishment by proxy that she had completed her nails by the time I had to get off the train.

Across from me, a young man in a hoodie and earphones watched something on his phone. Every so often, his face broke into a luminous smile. Once, he even gasped lightly, covering his wide grin with his hand. I found myself smiling too.

Since childhood, these fleeting connections with strangers have fascinated me. They remind me that every person I pass is living a life as complex as my own. What are their worries? Who loves them? Whom do they love with the same fierceness I feel for my children, my grandchildren?

This is the concept of sonder – realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and layered as your own – with their own ambitions, routines, relationships, worries, and inherited struggles.

Perhaps this awareness – that my life is as complex and precious as yours – can dissolve the illusion of separateness. And perhaps in that recognition lies the seed of understanding that to harm you is to harm myself. Is this what Krishnamurti refers to as “simplicity of the heart”?

This is seeing what is without judgment, without concluding, with a sense of knowing it is okay. Here, in this place of completeness, we understand that it is in the ordinary moments that become extraordinary.

At the heart of our mission is the understanding that each child holds a natural intelligence. When free from striving for status, fame, or wealth, clarity arises about the connection between action and life itself. In that presence, talents unfold, thriving becomes possible, and possibly what Krishnamurti called “flowering in goodness” emerges. Here, the extraordinary is found within the ordinary.

This simplicity of the heart reminds me of what William Martin writes in The Parent’s Tao Te Ching: Ancient Advice for Modern Parents.

“Do not ask your children to strive for extraordinary lives. Such striving may seem admirable, but it is the way of foolishness. Help them instead to find the wonder and the marvel of an ordinary life. Show them the joy of tasting tomatoes, apples, and pears. Show them how to cry when pets and people die. Show them the infinite pleasure in the touch of a hand. And make the ordinary come alive for them. The extraordinary will take care of itself.”