Phase 0 of My Re-Villaging Experiment

Why I'm taking the path of the slowburn (even when it's frustrating AF)

If you know me, you know I’m a fiery “quickstart” who loves to get results in .2 seconds. I achieved “success” in my coaching business relatively quickly. Sure, there were the typical growing pains, but I was determined to prove myself and make a name for myself in the industry…and so I did.

But in going at warp speed, I had to suffer some consequences. The first was that I jumped into the role of “coach” waaaay before I was qualified. Sure, I had gotten the certification and had a few practice clients…but I charged more than I probably should’ve and had less skills than I really wanted. I know you have to start somewhere, but I definitely felt the lack of mastery that I so desperately wanted.

I also LOADED my calendar with 30+ private clients that I would see WEEKLY. No wonder I came to DREAD calls. And…I hit burn out a couple months later, sending me into the hospital.

I had to learn this lesson over and over and over again.

Eventually (nearly 10 years later), I developed deep mastery of my craft and created a Coaching Certification School. It was truly spectacular and something I am infinitely proud of. It was truly the Hogwarts of the coaching world and there was and is nothing like it to this day.

But a year after becoming a mom and experiencing some health scares, I decided to shut my business down in the Spring of 2023.

Since then I’ve been in the liminal space. Feeling my way into what I really want to be doing (in addition to the big role of being a mama to two and still growing our family).

I know I have WILD privilege to say/do this, but I decided that I refused to do any type of work that didn’t support the deeper core of my values and priorities. Aka my family and my relationships (with others and the world around me).

It became ABUNDANTLY clear that my deepest desire is to recreate the village and experience true, nourishing belonging. For myself, others, and for future generations.

Now…creating a village doesn’t happen overnight…or even over months. It happens over years and DECADES. Which was a devastating reality check for the quickstart part of me that wanted to wake up inside a fully-formed community yesterday years ago.

But…I didn’t want to take the awkward, clunky, hard steps of creating it. I just wanted it to appear in front of me. Like there was some magical community I didn’t know about, but someone would tap me on the shoulder and say, “Hey, we’ve been waiting for YOU. Come join us!”

That didn’t happen.

So after crying to my husband about it (a lot), journaling endlessly, and looping it in every conversation with my coaches, I realized I had to stop fantasizing and actually do something.

Tiny Steps To Building My Village

Over the past year, I’ve (begrudgingly) taken small, but steady steps forward. Each one has carried a deeper lesson about what re-villaging actually asks of us.

Doing life with my friends and their families.

Instead of just doing dinners solo as a family, we’ve started gathering with friends and their kids for Sunday dinners by the beach. We’ve had impromptu playdates that turn into full afternoons. We’ve created little holiday traditions together that we actually look forward to. Sometimes we even vacation together—trading off kid-duty so the other parents can get some sweet “me” time.

I’ve realized that hours of solo time with my kids and no adult conversation can be really hard for me. But when we weave our lives together—when I cook, swim, celebrate, or just hang out with other adults alongside the kids—it suddenly feels lighter, more fun, and waaaay more sustainable.

Lesson: Life is better together. Take the everyday things you’d normally do alone and do them with people you love (or at least genuinely like). Especially with kids!

Showing up locally.

I met with the director of my kids’ camp to talk about how to make their program even bette

r. I volunteered to be class parent. I’ve been the extra adult on field trips. I’m frequenting new places and spaces and events to support local endeavors. These might seem like small, mundane roles, but they are bricks in the foundation of belonging.

Lesson: The village is sustained not by grand gestures but by unglamorous consistency. 

Practicing actual neighborliness.

Reaching out to other moms (and actually following through on coffee dates). Stopping to talk to neighbors instead of rushing past. Going to the local coffee shop with the secret agenda (mwuahaha) of bumping into people and letting conversations unfold. Yupppp, it can be totally awkward sometimes. But as corny as it sounds, I can feel the weaving of myself into the community with each interaction.

Lesson: Belonging grows in small but bold interactions and sometimes awkward conversations. Risk the awkwardness! I dare ya!

Training as a Village Auntie.

I joined Pathways to Womanhood, a year-long initiation into becoming a guide for girls moving through rites of passage. A big part of the inspiration for this was creating a new model for my daughter, but it was also about weaving myself back into the lineage of women who hold and midwife culture itself.

Plus, after having worked with hundreds of women in the person development space, I can’t help but wonder what their paths (and my own) might’ve been like had we had this type of support and holding during our most formative years. My desire is to bring this work into the Bermuda community and the world! I share more about this here.

Lesson: Villages require elders-in-training—people committed to carrying wisdom forward, not just chasing personal growth highs. A big focus of mine is moving away from just self-help and shifting to communal care.

Tending the online world differently.

I used to treat the internet like the village, like if I could just find the right group or the right mastermind, I’d finally feel the belonging I craved!!! …well that didn’t quite happen.

And while online spaces can be beautiful, I now know they’re an option—not the only option. These days I try to let the internet be a doorway into real-world connection instead of a substitute for it. And also, sometimes, a place to receive nutrients I might not yet have found in my physical world.

For example, during my MotherCircle facilitator training, I became close with an older woman in the program. Every week we connected, sharing our stories. And I felt so overcome with emotion by the privilege of receiving her wisdom. I hadn’t realized how deeply I’d been missing the presence of elders until she showed up for me in this way. It wasn’t the same as sitting at her kitchen table with tea, but it was real and reminded me of what I was craving in my life.

Lesson: Technology can be medicine, but only when it carries us toward embodied community, not away from it.

Saying yes to continuity.

I’ve committed to programs that meet all year long, where the magic is in showing up again and again, not chasing a single high.

I’m on my third year with my Intimacy + Relationship coach and our trip to Boulder at the end of this week will be Jake and my FOURTH gathering with our coach and community.

I also joined a women’s group that gather for ceremonies outside Boston on the Quarter and Cross-Quarter holidays (aka 8 times a year).

It feels so yummy to be deepening with two different groups of people consistently. Especially because I have yet to find the same flavor of nourishment I’m seeking in Bermuda, I’ve decided to go elsewhere in the meantime.

Lesson: Villages are built through repetition, rhythm, and the willingness to stay when the novelty wears off. And sometimes it will require you to make big commitments that feel hard, but necessary for your soul.

Choosing intimacy over hype.

This is sorta a continuation from the previous one…but earlier this year I paid a steeeep price for a “mastermind” (it ended up being way less high-touch than it was marketed) that looked shiny but left me feeling hollow and out of alignment with my actual values.

It included a BIG event at the end of summer that I felt like I had to attend to “get my money’s worth.” But when I felt into it more, I realized that going would probably be great and fun, but ultimately, it would take me further away from my center and have my chasing highs that I didn’t deeply desire.

So I said no. And I’ve committed to prioritizing spaces that are smaller, deeper, and devoted to actual continuity and care.

Lesson: Villages aren’t built on spectacle or speed; they’re built on depth and devotion.

Experimenting with leading in-person gatherings again.

I am confident AF when it comes to leading groups and experiences online. But it’s been a hot second since I’ve done in-person work. I’ve been attempting (awkwardly, imperfectly) to start a local teen girls’ group. It hasn’t fully landed yet, but I’m letting myself be humbled by the process instead of abandoning the vision.

 Lesson: Leadership in the village is clumsy and human. And it can take some time. We must move at the speed of trust.

Repeating and living into “phase 0 has to come before phase 100.”

While I have big visions and desires for how gathering in a village looks like, I’m also allowing myself to do the small thing over nothing at all. In the past, I’d be like, “fuck it, if I can’t have it all, I don’t want it.”

For example, I have a vision for how I’d LOVE to be held in pregnancy, brith, and postpartum. But with my most recent experience, I let it be awkward—not the full-blown vision—but still closer to what I desired. I told my sister I didn’t want a baby shower, but a Mother’s Blessing with my girlfriends in Bermuda. This was NOT the norm and no one knew what that meant. And it was a lil awkward and not everything I could have hoped for, but I’m so grateful I asked for what I desired and let it be what it was.

I also would LOVE to have yummy, deep, mischievous full moon and new moon gatherings in-person around a fire, under the stars. So…I met my friends at the edge of where they were and invited a few of them to watch a livestreamed new moon ceremony. For most of them it was their first time doing eye gazing or structured sharing, so it was a bit stretchy, but refreshing.

For my birthday I told Jake I wanted a deep and playful experience. So he came up with an epic game of truth and dare that was equal parts emotional soul food and silly shenangians that had us peeing our pants laughing.

None of it was Phase 100. But all of it was closer to the village I want than doing nothing at all.

Lesson: Villages aren’t built by leaping to the fantasy version—you have to let the clunky, awkward, not-quite-right versions count. Asking for what you want (even if it feels weird), meeting people where they are, and celebrating the “closer, not perfect” moments is how the future village gets born.

Spending more time with nature in deep reverence.

I’ve always loved my nature walks and ocean swims, but I’ve become even more aware of and in awe of the beauty and life all around me.

Taking the time to touch and talk to a tree.

Hanging out in my Sit Spot.

Reading about ecological living and experimenting with small shifts in how we care for our home.

Learning the names of Bermuda’s plants and creatures with my daughter, and teaching her that nature isn’t just scenery—it’s kin. We practice loving up on the land, asking permission to flowers and leaves before taking one, saying thank you to the ocean and the trees, howling at the moon. Ya know, the good stuff :)

Lesson: When we practice reverence and deep appreciation—naming plants, saying thank you to the ocean, howling at the moon—we root ourselves in kinship with the more-than-human world, and that’s an integral part of the foundation of any true village.

Dreaming with others.

Tomorrow, I’m sitting down with two local guys who are into spirituality, connecting to nature, and sustainable living to talk about how we can co-create community events that honor the Wheel of the Year.

We don’t know what it will become yet, but this is what re-villaging actually looks like: conversations, curiosity, shared meals, and shared visions.

Lesson: Villages are dreamed into being together—no one person holds the whole vision.

And there are so many more that I’m probably not thinking of off the top of my head! Looking back at these small steps, I’ve realized they’re not random. There are pieces that form a kind of map for what re-villaging requires.

Out of my messy attempts came eight clear elements that can be seen as gateways into re-villaging and belonging…

I’ll share more about these in my next post, so keep those eyeballs peeled 👀

Your turn!

If we were in circle right now, what would you name as part of your BIG village vision? And…let’s rewind and take it back, back, backkkk to your Phase 0…

What would be your Phase 0 step toward the village of your dreams?

Doesn’t matter if it feels awkward or tiny—that’s the good stuff babyyy. Tell me below so we can start mapping and traveling this road together!!

P.S. This Village Wants You In It!

If this piece stirred something in you, hit subscribe and keep wandering this slow, clunky, magical road of re-villaging with me. I’ll keep droppin’ the messy experiments, tiny rituals, and behind-the-scenes glimpses of weaving belonging back into our lives.

Andddd if you’re ready to scoot your booty closer to the fire—go paid. 🔥

Paid subscribers get the extra magic: seasonal ritual packets, juicy audio drops, village chat threads, LIVE circle gatherings, and invitations I don’t share anywhere else. Plus, you’re literally fueling the creation of this modern-day village.