Everyone Wants the Village, But Do We Know How to Be the Villager?
Moving from Silos to Real Connection
I keep coming back to this idea… we all want the village, but do we know how to village people, how to be villagers? And I don’t actually think it’s because we don’t want to. I think we do. I think, at the heart of it, we want real connection. To feel seen, to feel held, to know we’re not doing life alone.
But you can’t have a village if everyone is a silo. And if I’m honest, I’ve lived that way too—siloed, self-contained, armored. And that kind of living protects something, yes, but it also prevents the thing we want and keeps everyone out to some degree. maybe it's at an arms length away close enough and far way - not fully in.
The Gift of Our Humanity
It’s a strange time to be alive. We’re surrounded by tools that can tell us how to do almost anything. We can ask, search, generate, refine. AI can give us a “how-to” list, but it can’t double-batch a lasagna or hold a crying baby, it can't witness us and hold us when life gets heavy and we need hug. And I feel that in my body. Because what I’m actually craving—and what I keep hearing other women crave—is something that can’t be replicated. Presence. Attention. Love, Intention or thoughtfulness. Care that shows up at your door. The village isn’t found in the convenience of an app; it’s found in the beautiful, messiness of each other and it requires something that I’m still unpacking.
There is a bit of an inconvenience to friendship and showing up, but it’s not an inconvenience that drains rather asks something of us - to put ourselves not as second or on the back burner, to push ourselves to go beyond ourselves. it has the same flavor of motherhood - motherhood isn't convenient by any means and yet we show up with honor, joy, delight, love - we hold our role as mother as sacred. What if being a friend and embracing the role of villager came with that same level of service fulfilling a sacred role.
Finding Our Way Back from half here to fully here
There was a time where being human—being emotional, messy, real—didn’t always feel safe. I didn’t always know how to hold my imperfections or offer myself compassion. So I coped the best way I knew how. I checked out when I needed to. I kept people at an arms length with the illusion that there was closeness sharing or telling without the expression of the emotion. And I have so much compassion for that version of me, because when I could only handle 30%, I was still giving 100% of what I had. I think a lot of us have been there.
And then something shifted. I started coming back to myself. I started learning how to take care of myself. And that mattered—it still matters. But somewhere in that, I think I forgot how to also take care of other people to show up. to be pushed and challenged to go beyond myself and outside myself. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I had been in a season where I couldn’t. And now I find myself asking what it looks like to come into that place of doing life along side people, showing up - not perfectly, but intentionally.
Proposing a New Way: Simple Ideas to Be the Village
When I think about the people who have been my village, and the ways I’m trying to show up too, it’s actually really simple. I’m still figuring this out myself—I am not doing all of these perfectly—but I’ve been brainstorming ways we can practically start being the village for each other.
These are simply suggestions, creative options, or even simple "copy and paste" texts you can send to a friend or neighbor today to take the mental load off of her
The "While I'm Out" Text: We don’t even know our neighbors anymore, let alone their grocery lists. Try sending this: "I'm headed to the store, do you need a gallon of milk or some eggs? I can drop them on your porch—no need to even come to the door."
Anticipate the "Day Five" Need: Everyone shows up on Day One. But what about Day Five? Or Day Ten? Try being the person who asks to take the kids to the park a week later, when the initial help has faded but the recovery is still very real. Or just drop off a meal without being asked.
The "Lifting the Load" Offer: When a household is sick or everything feels like too much, step in with a specific choice: "I’m free for an hour to help you get caught up. Laundry, dishes, or a meal—pick one you want me to tackle, and I’ve got it."
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The "Notes Section" Strategy: When you’re getting to know a new friend, you might ask if she is reading anything in particular or what genre she gravitates towards. Put it in the "Notes" section of their contact in your phone. Next time you're out at the library or in target you can grab her a book and say, "I remembered you liked this particular genre and this looked intriguing.." Or even simpler if she has a coffee in hand or you meet at the coffee shop take note of her order and next time you run into each other - say at school drop off you can send a warm text “I picked you up coffee - a (insert her order), see you soon.” It’s the message that says: I see you, and I care.
The Double-Batch Habit: Whenever you’re making a meal that freezes well, try double-batching it. It’s not just for your own future sanity; it’s a ready-to-go "landing" meal for a neighbor or friend coming back from vacation or a friend navigating a tough season..
The Fresh Hand-Me-Down: Instead of making the Goodwill run the default, text the friend first: "I have a bag of clothes in this size and season—do you want them? I’d love to drop them off if you can use them."
Meal Share: If you really want to weave in the village, this works so well to begin doing life together. You cook a meal, double batch it, and secure a drop-off day with a friend. She does the same for you on a different day. Next thing you know, you’re cooking one less day a week, your kitchen stays cleaner, and you’re cutting down on food waste. You’re already doing the work of cooking—doubling it doesn't change the workload, but it completely changes the ease of your week.
It’s not about grand gestures. It’s about these small, intentional ripples that say: You don’t have to handle this all on your own, I see you, I’ve got you.
Holding the Vulnerability of Reaching Out
And I won’t pretend this is easy. Because to live this way, I have pause, slow down, listen, be intentional, and present. I also have to be willing to be seen. I have to be willing to reach out first, to offer, to risk that it might not be received the way I hoped. She might say no. She might not respond. She might not know how to receive it. And I have to be able to hold myself in that, to not make it mean something about me, to not close back up. Just to meet her where she is and keep showing up in the ways that feel true.
I don’t think the village is gone. Maybe we’ve been practicing how to come back—back into our bodies, back into our humanity, so we can get back to each other. Maybe in finding our way back to ourselves we got lost a bit... we lost the art on how to show up for others, to be a bit inconvenienced, to go beyond ourselves and to hold ourselves at the same time. You can do both - connection with yourself and your community, your people.
An Invitation to the Messy Middle
So I’m asking myself this gently… how can I challenge myself to rise - even just a bit more into the role of villager, to be a village person again. Not all at once, not perfectly, but in the small ways. The text, the meal, the remembering, the willingness to be a little inconvenienced for something that actually matters. Because she matters, you matter, community matters.
If you’re feeling this too, you’re not alone. And if you’re local, this is something I’m opening space for. A place to gather, to practice this, to be messy and human in it.
The Village Reimagined is a 6 week series of backyard playdates if you want to learn more - click here. You don’t have to arrive as the perfect villager. None of us are. We just have to be willing to try.
Sending you so much love.
