8 - When Spheres Touch: The Mechanics of Relationship

Toye Oyelese

Welcome back, everyone, to The Sphere of Reality. I’m Toye Oyelese, and—well, before I go further, a quick thank you to those who’ve written in with questions about our last episode on resonance. I read them all, I really do. Now, today’s episode is about something almost everyone asks about at some point: relationships. But let’s set the record straight before we get lost in the poetry of human connection, yeah? Relationship isn’t the starting point; it’s not foundational in this framework. It comes later.

Toye Oyelese

See, if you picture that sphere—the one we keep talking about—what’s most basic is actually you, alone at the center, conscious, aware, but, well, solitary. The sequence goes: first, there’s your sphere, with its own boundary. Nothing outside, no connection. Then, there’s action—maybe you try something new, or, in my case years ago, you open a wellness clinic and start, sort of, fumbling your way through “complementary medicine.” It’s only when you act, when you move past intention and actually do something, that your sphere expands. And as your boundary grows, your “surface area,” so to speak, gets bigger.

Toye Oyelese

Only then—after you’ve pushed that edge out—does contact become possible. That’s the real threshold. You might recall from previous episodes how action leads to expansion, and expansion increases your chances of making contact, not by sheer luck, but by geometry. When I first started at that clinic in Kelowna, I found real relationships with my staff and patients only came after weeks—sometimes months—of repeated, small actions. Mutual trust, that sense of “I see you and you see me,” only happened after our spheres actually touched. We all stayed polite until we’d shared enough moments; until, for example, the day a patient brought in homemade bread for my nurse—or when I nervously confessed something personal that humanized me. Those were the moments contact became relationship. So, relationship isn’t some magic starting point. It’s what emerges after you’ve put your world into motion and made real contact at the boundary.

Toye Oyelese

Now, let’s talk about what actually happens once that contact is made. Not every relationship that forms is, you know, rainbows and warm fuzzies. There are really three possible outcomes each time our spheres meet.

Toye Oyelese

First, there’s what I call a bad relationship. Maybe “toxic” is the word that’s used these days, but that word gets thrown around a lot. I prefer “depleting.” Imagine you’re in a job partnership—you give, you give, you keep covering shifts, but it’s always a one-way street. You leave those interactions feeling less than, shrunk. No mutual support, just extraction. The result? Your sphere actually contracts. You feel smaller, like you have less to offer each day.

Toye Oyelese

Second, the balanced—or what you’d simply call a “good”—relationship. Think of that friend you can depend on, the colleague who always covers for you when life throws a curveball. You both benefit, both get your needs met. The flow isn’t dramatic, but it’s steady, fair. Your sphere doesn’t grow—maybe—but it doesn’t shrink either. It’s maintained, sustained, reliable. It’s like watering a plant just enough: not withering, not blossoming, just healthy.

Toye Oyelese

And then—these are rare, but precious—there’s the synergistic relationship. That’s when, together, you accomplish far more than either of you could solo. Years ago, I worked on a multi-disciplinary pain management team with a clinical psychologist and a occupational therapist. Hesitant at first, but then, wow—our combined efforts led to real, measurable breakthroughs for pain patients that none of us could have achieved alone. After every meeting I came away feeling lifted, energized. Both our spheres expanded. More possibility, more reach, more life.

Toye Oyelese

So let me put a gentle question out there for you—think back: When did you last feel your own ‘sphere’ expand or shrink after a particular interaction? Did you feel depleted, steady, or—if you’re lucky—did you walk away feeling like the world got just a bit bigger? These are not transactional tallies, but the lived, felt outcomes when we come into real exchange with other human beings.

Toye Oyelese

This all brings me to what I think is, well, both the most powerful and the most risky part of human existence. Why do the right relationships seem to open up the world, sometimes overnight? And why do the wrong ones leave us so much smaller than when we started?

Toye Oyelese

Let me share a personal metaphor here. I started a small photo gallery in my clinic—just a few prints on the wall, at first. But then I worked with a local artist, and it became a collaboration. We didn’t just put up pictures; suddenly, the space felt alive, staff and patients noticed, and the conversations shifted. Somehow, sharing the creative process did more than decorate the place—it built new connections among my whole team, and even deepened the care we gave. I hadn’t planned for it. But in that synergy, my own sphere expanded. The whole atmosphere did.

Toye Oyelese

So, I want to leave you with this: Take an honest look at the relationships in your life, whether professional, personal, or somewhere in-between. Are they contracting your world, are they just maintaining the status quo, or are they helping you grow? Sometimes it’s not obvious until you step back and really, quietly reflect on what’s changing—on the inside.

Toye Oyelese

That’s all for today. Next time, we’ll pull together these threads—action, expansion, contact, relationship—and show how the whole chain works in practice. Keep your questions coming; I do love reading them. I’m Toye Oyelese, and this is The Sphere of Reality.