New Perspectives & The Art of Being a Villager

How art, community and resistance are guiding me through the season.

Happy Sunday!

It’s been an exhausting and fulfilling week. The time change, a solar eclipse, a full moon and weather that can’t make up its mind for trying! I know a lot of us are feeling a little burnt out at the moment. I know I am. Cradled between this fatigue, bouts of icy rain and numb hands on morning walks— there’s been art, culture, community and inspiration. There’s been reflection, new ideas and a lighter load. If you’re not sure what the heck I’m talking about, don’t worry, neither do I half the time. Stay with me.

This is my theatrical way of saying that I’ve done some things over the past week, and they’ve given me a new perspective and outlook on life. Cue the dramatic music. And speaking of theatrics… I saw a really moving piece at the ballet last Friday by Andrea Peña. It felt like a tug of war between light and dark. The music, lighting, and the way the dancers moved were raw, grungy, honest, and weird. It was real life. My interpretation of the piece was a lot different from the person I went with (she didn’t like it, but after I explained to her how I saw it, she did admit she appreciated my perspective). The dancers wore harnesses and were tied to each other, two to a pair. Pushing and pulling. There’s always some contrast before an expansion, but only if you choose to expand. You can outstay your welcome in the contrast, and only you have the power to move through it. It made me think about how hard the first half of my life was, and how I was stuck in the contrast. It made me think of this back-and-forth dance between joy and heartbreak that is life. Many people I love are still tied to this shuffle. Stuck in the contrast, spinning, losing their breath, losing control. It made me feel hopeful that in future times of contrast, which will be many, I always have the power to expand.

That is the point of art. It’s subjective. I can love it, and someone else can hate it and neither of us are right or wrong.

Speaking of pushing and pulling— lately, I’ve been exploring the concept of resistance. I had a session with a new therapist last week, and she shared something with me that makes so much sense but I hadn’t thought of until she brought it up. (That is the beauty of talk therapy). I told her I want to practice more meditation, breathwork, and yoga, but I’m being met with a ton of resistance. She explained to me that these flow-state modalities work for some people, but they may not be for me. Plain and simple. Some people benefit from deep, diaphragmatic breathing, and some people don’t. Some people need Wim Hof-style breathing to regulate, and some people panic with that style of breath. She explained that meditation isn’t the only way to connect with your own thoughts— it could be drawing, painting, dancing, or enjoying a quiet moment in the morning without a screen or a task. I hadn’t thought of this before. I can be in flow without being in child’s pose. She also reminded me that I don’t need to do anything for a specific length of time for it to be deemed beneficial or important. 5 minutes is better than 0 minutes.

My takeaway from it all is that this simple reframe can be applied to almost anything in my life. If something isn’t sticking for me, or I’m being met with resistance, I can try asking myself: Who are you doing this for? Are you doing it because you saw an influencer do it? Does it even work for you? Could you be kinder to yourself in the process? Do you need a new process entirely? There is no one-size-fits-all when it comes to life. Don’t get stuck in the contrast for longer than you need to be there. Choose what chooses you. Be like Goldilocks, not Cinderella’s wicked step sisters. Stop trying to force things that don’t fit.

One thing that has really stuck with me this week is this quote: “Everyone wants a village, but no one wants to be a villager.” I could say that I saw it on another Substack, or read it in an article online, but that would be a fib. I came across it in a TikTok video where an early 30’s woman was reflecting on her mom and the incredible village she’s built by being an active and giving part of her community. She shared a story about her mom hosting a baby shower for her, and 50 women showed up with food and presents. Half of them had never even met her daughter, but because they loved her mom and were part of her “village,” they embraced her daughter and made her a part of their community as well.

It made me reflect on my own community and village. It made me think of the ways I could be a better villager. It made me reflect on why some people simply do not have the capacity to be an active villager.

Earlier this week, Dave and I needed help unloading a heavy piece of furniture from the car into our apartment. It was 8p.m. so we threw a Hail Mary in our building’s group chat. Within minutes, three people responded, and two were already out the back door, ready to help. This isn’t unusual for our building. We’re lucky to live in a place with such a strong sense of community and yet, we still felt grateful and happy to be here. It made us appreciate being active members of our little village— and perhaps that’s why the village showed up.

When I was 16-years old and living in a small lakeside town, I would go across the street to visit a lady named Mrs. McDonald. She must have been in her late 80’s and had been living in the house for decades. Her husband passed away years prior, her children lived in the city, and she was alone. I was newly living with my dad and didn’t have any friends in town yet. Her son was a realtor and owned a small office at the marina where my dad worked. I can’t remember exactly how this all came to be, but I’m guessing he spoke to my dad about her and my dad relayed the message to me. One day, I popped over for an orange pekoe tea and a game of Rummy and from that day on, it became our little ritual. In those moments spent sitting in her kitchen that felt like it was frozen in time, I didn’t think much about how odd of a pair we were. I was just starting my life and she was near the end of hers. We were just two girls in transition— drinking tea, eating cookies, and playing card games. We were villagers.

Mrs. McDonald passed away the following year and at her funeral, many of her family members came up to me and thanked me for being there for her. I was too young to understand what any of it meant at the time, but looking back, I realize how formative our time together was for both of us.

Community. Real life, in-person community and connection matter. It matters within your circle of friends, in your neighborhood, and in your workplace. And it also matters in a broader sense. Feeling like you’re a part of something gives you purpose beyond your daily routine. Walking and taking public transit connect you to where you live in ways you simply can’t feel when you’re alone in your car. Saying ‘hi’ to people can strike up a conversation that could change your life forever. Going to the library, farmer’s market or community centre will evoke a feeling within you that you can’t get from an app. Making an effort to be an active member of your community feels good. There is science behind this. Interacting with people in the places we take up space in is good for humankind. There are studies that show individuals reporting a higher sense of community in their neighbourhoods reported less symptoms of depression, anxiety and stress.

Being a villager is good for your emotional and physical well-being.

When Dave and I lived in Melbourne and needed to find a place to do our farm work so we could extend our visa, we thought it wasn’t going to happen. Even worse, we thought we would have to haul ass up north to a dreaded banana farm. At the time, Dave was working for the parks board, and one day, on his usual rounds cleaning up garbage from a popular beach, he met a woman and her grandchildren out for a walk. I think it started with her thanking him for keeping these spaces clean, and it soon segued into why he was cleaning a beach in Australia to begin with. After about 20 minutes of friendly conversation, she told Dave that she owned an apple orchard about 40 minutes out of the city, and that he and I could both work there and get our hours needed to stay in the country for another year.

We worked on that apple orchard and had the best year of our lives afterwards!

Community is everything. Growing up it was the fire department that dropped off hampers at Christmas time that made Christmas possible. It was the food bank we lined up at from time to time that kept us healthy. It was neighbours who would watch my sister and I after school while our parents were tangled up in whatever they were tangled up in. It was my parent’s friends who treated us as their own. It was aunts and uncles taking us shopping for new clothes. Most of my life has revolved around my village showing up for me. My friend’s parents, teachers, colleagues— it's because of the village that I am who I am today. My personal experience with a village makes me want to be a better villager.

It’s all made me want to step up and contribute more than I have been. I’d like to make it a goal this year to do something good for my community— something that involves interaction and immersion. I’ve had this idea for a few years about starting my own charity, but after many conversations and guidance from people I trust, I’ve decided that I’m not at a point in my life where I could commit myself to it in the way I would need to in order for it to be impactful. I’ll save that for another decade. For now, I’ll keep brainstorming small but meaningful ways I can give back. Reminder to self: 5 hours of volunteering per year is better than 0. It doesn’t need to be all or nothing. Something or anything is important too.

It’s funny because when I write these posts, I read them back (many times) and it’s so obvious to me that I’m writing them for myself. I mean, I am writing to whoever will read the words, but the soul of it all is to: me, from: me. These posts are like a mirror for me. An out-in-the-open journal for others to read and hopefully relate to. I’m reminding myself of all these things that matter to me, and my wordsmithing is really just me trying to convince myself that I’m on to something on my own journey. If what I write here inspires someone else, that is an added perk of this creative outlet.

I appreciate all of you who read these posts and send messages of encouragement. I love connecting through storytelling.

I’ve been trying to live more intentionally lately and I hope that comes across in what I am writing about these days. I’ve always been someone who finds joy in the mundane. Play and presence are a part of my deepest self that I hold onto no matter how old I get. I’ve always had a strong connection to my inner child that perhaps has overshadowed the woman I’m meant to become. The first few months of this year have shown me a different layer of myself that I haven’t met before, and it’s been exciting peeling back this piece of me that feels like it has been here waiting all along. The universe keeps sending me little signs to keep going. And so I will.

I hope you have a great day today, and if you have a story about your own village or an idea for something I could do in my community, please reach out to me! If you enjoy reading my writing, consider buying me a coffee. Sometimes I use the money to buy myself a fancy matcha, but usually I use the money to pay it forward. Sending a little note of kudos or sharing my writing with your friends is another meaningful way to show support. It means a lot to me. 🫶🏼

Here are a few photos of life lately, exactly as I saw things…

Take good care.

Nicole xo