Jonathan Meyer.

So often in our lives, we settle for surface-level interactions. We nod, we smile, we move on. We keep things pleasant. We keep things easy. We keep things safe.

But lately, I’ve been thinking about what happens when we don’t.

In my life as of late, various situations (some I’ll discuss another time, some I’ll leave vague) I’ve found myself reflecting on the simple act of asking questions. Not loaded questions. Not accusatory ones. Just honest, clarifying questions meant to better understand.

And I’ve realized something surprising.

A simple follow-up email can sometimes cause more discomfort than silence ever would.

That fascinates me.

When did asking for clarity become controversial? When did wanting to better understand turn into something perceived as confrontation? Somewhere along the way, it seems we’ve started treating questions like attacks instead of invitations.

And I get it. Criticism – even when it isn’t criticism – can sting. We are all human. We care about our work. We care about our ideas. We care about being right. But ownership of our thoughts and actions doesn’t have to compete with collaboration. In fact, collaboration only works when ownership and openness coexist.

I’m learning that very quickly.

In the broader context of this country, it feels especially relevant. It is not radical to ask what’s going on. It is not disrespectful to want transparency. Wanting the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth should not feel like a rebellious act. Accountability is not hostility. It is healthy.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve wondered why we so often avoid diving beneath the surface. Is it fear? Is it discomfort? Is it the possibility that something might be exposed that we weren’t ready to confront?

Maybe.

But I truly believe that when a group of people can sit down, put everything on the table, and speak honestly, productivity is almost guaranteed. Trust is built. Respect deepens. Real progress begins.

Surface-level interactions may keep the peace temporarily, but meaningful connection changes things.

This column may feel a bit abstract. That’s intentional. Not every lesson needs a headline or a villain. Sometimes growth happens quietly, in the subtle realization that asking a thoughtful question is not something to apologize for.

I’m not perfect at this. I still overthink. I still worry about tone. I still replay conversations in my head. But I’m learning that courage doesn’t always look loud. Sometimes it looks like pressing “send” on a respectful email.

Thinking deeply. Caring honestly. Asking anyway.

Those feel like good places to start.

Until my next hard question,

I’m just Jonathan.