Community is not convenient
It’s amazing what getting out of constant scrolling cycle will do for a girl.
Lately, I’ve been quieter than usual online. Not because I’m pulling back from the work - if anything, I’m deeper in it than ever - but because I noticed myself slipping into a pattern I didn’t like: scrolling more than creating. Consuming more than contributing. Looking for clarity in places I know won’t give it to me.
So I deleted the apps and forced myself to do a much-needed hard reset.
I’ve been busy in the garden, trying to pay attention to what actually feels good (versus just running the same old patterns), and rethinking more than a few long-held perspectives on things that really fucking matter.
And more than anything, I’ve been showing up for my people.
A dear friend of mine needed real support recently. I’m not going to tell their story, because it’s not mine to share. But I will tell you this: when someone you care about is in it, and you have the capacity to show up? You do it. You drop the calendar and pick up the phone. You rearrange things. You sit in it with them.
That’s what I mean when we talk about real community.
One of the endlessly irritating things about people who say they want “community” is their refusal to be even mildly inconvenienced by it.
Because the truth is, when someone really needs help? They’re probably not going to show up as their easiest, most pleasant self. It’s messy. It’s emotional. It’s rarely on schedule.
Community is not convenient.
It’s showing up to the best of your ability anyway. And that’s going to look different in every season.
Example: If you need a late-night ride, I’m probably not your girl. (I don’t drive, and I’ve got a toddler who goes to bed at 7.)
But if you need to move in a pinch during daylight hours? I’ll show up with snacks, a joint, and jokes.
Because here’s the thing about real community: when you show up for your people, they show up for you.
I’ve been supporting my people (including a few inside the Common Wealth). I’ve been head down, reworking systems, launching a whole new venture (again lolz), and trying to remember to ask for help when I need it.
And what’s wild is that when I needed support?
It showed up for me, too.
This week, I dropped into Veronica Yanhs’ office hours because I was overwhelmed. I’d been spinning out trying to figure out inventory for Hearth & Hollow—my tiny microfarm that’s somehow real enough now to need actual systems. I’d gone down a rabbit hole of nursery management software and spreadsheet hell, none of which made sense for how I think or work.
Veronica gently reminded me: I don’t need to force myself into a structure that was never meant for me.
That one conversation saved me hours of trying to contort myself into an “industry standard,” and brought me back to what I actually needed: something simple, supportive, and mine.
(And if you’re trying to do literally anything with more ease and pleasure in your business, go grab her Toolkit. She’s my COO for a reason.)
Here’s the bigger point: Good business isn’t built on perfect planning or big launches or going viral on demand. It’s built in the relationships you’ve invested in.
The people who remind you of who you are when you forget. Who send referrals because they know your work is gold. Who walk beside you when you’re at a crossroads, personal or professional.
That’s what The Common Wealth is for me; a group of thoughtful, wildly talented business owners who are showing up for each other in the ways I've always dreamed of. #FuckPaidMasterminds
People like Eunice Brownlee, who’s about to launch Storyteller Summer Camp - a half-day retreat on the Oregon Coast for folks who are ready to reconnect with their voice and share their story in a way that actually feels good. (It’s happening in Cannon Beach this summer. If you’re local, keep an eye out.)
People like Mary Williams, the soulful strategy whisperer you might recognize as the emcee from Reinvent(ed). If you’ve been craving more clarity and connection in your week, her weekly tarot readings are a brilliant place to start.
These aren’t just cool people - they’re the people I trust.
People who remind me, over and over, that business can be a site of connection - not just commerce. That leadership can be shared. That systems can support us, not just squeeze us.
And that’s why I’m doubling down on client experience, referrals, and regenerative systems of care - not trying to outpost the algorithm.
If you’re ready to reconnect with the part of you that knows how to do this work in a way that actually feels good?
Start with the people. Always.