Intimacy in community

On connecting to professional communities with intention.

Listening. photo by JoAnn

I love traveling, and I do it well. By “well” I mean that I love doing it with may partner, or a friend, or on my own – I can get into a groove no matter with whom. I do it both professionally and for pleasure.

I do enjoy my own company, and often prefer to be alone, either for a whole trip or for parts. It took me many years to realize I can give myself permission to take a breather from being social, and not feel ashamed of it. But I do also love being a part of something, an energy that is shared by a group of people who are attuned to a particular shared… something.

This became especially salient for me when I attended a small-group therapist retreat in the middle of a Quebec forest in Autumn of 2025. To be surrounded by others just as curious as I am about our field and learning new and different ways people engage with it can be transformational. I've attended many conferences or festivals relevant to my field, either as a participant or a speaker or both, and while they can harness certain positive energies, many times I've come away exhausted, drained, or not particularly connected.

One thing that may have been a contributor to this was the venues. Most events have been held in conference centres or hotels, away from daylight, coated in forced air (one 5-day intensive was in a room blasted with such cold AC that I had to bring a towel from my room to act as a shawl), with poor food options, surrounded by parking lot asphalt, and with so many attendees, I felt adrift in an ocean. I struggled so much to feel ‘a part of it’ that I was distracted. I do understand that this is who I am, and not necessarily a failing of the conferences; I often witness high-energy attendees happily making new connections and going to all the events and soaking up as much as they can hold, much to the delight of the organizers. I used to wish I was that type of person (they can be truly amazing beings). I’m now very content to not be.

What I have finally realized is that the most comfortable way for me to learn and engage is in more intimate settings with smaller groups of people, at a slower pace. Being a highly visual person, my surroundings also have a big effect on me. In that Quebec forest, with a backdrop of fresh air, lush trees, and the mist of a mountain, I opened up to new ways of experiencing and understanding.

The conversations and connections I made with this smaller group were intensely meaningful (even if some were fleeting), and I came home feeling rejuvenated rather than drained.

I'm reminded of when I ran an arts community, and our weekly small groups and events allowed a creation of an intimacy that I find myself often yearning for.

So I will continue to find similar ways to connect with my peers, to create community that is fashioned in ease, comfort, air, and curiosity. I've known for a long time that I love learning, and now I'm honing just how I want to do it. It’s slower, cozier, lighter.