The Point of Retreating is Returning

I’m writing this on the couch of an Airbnb outside of Asheville, NC at the 7th bi-annual(ish) NOVA Scribes weekend retreat with 8 other visual practitioners and facilitators.Β 

There is no direct β€˜reason’ for the retreat beyond hanging out with cool people, working on a personal project, sharing energy, knowledge and food.Β 

We have no agenda, only requests. The vibe is to follow your energy whether that means an impromptu trip to the arboretum, a nap on the couch, or claiming a corner to deep dive into a creative project. We’re all doing solo work on a range of projects. We exist together.Β 

And these retreats didn’t just happen. The idea popped up during one of our monthly meetup co-organizer calls and we ran with it.Β 

The logistics are simple. We picked a weekend, booked a house [hot tub required], created a google doc with info and a sign-up for a meal slot, and invited people we wanted to hang out with. The group composition and size shifts retreat to retreat based on interest, availability, and the number of sleeping spots in the house.Β 

These retreats require a mix of risk, trust, and not waiting to decide.Β 

The risky vulnerability of asking for what you want and then acting on it. The uncertainty of how to show up or what to say or what to work on. The willingness to miss out on something else.Β Β 

The trust that the house will be filled to share the cost. That the people will mesh. That the time away is worth it.Β 

The belief that the decision of where and when and what doesn’t need to be made by everyone in the group. That one or two people can create the container first and then invite others to join.

Because belonging within a community is a long game. And the point of retreating is returning to real life with more.Β 

The Vulnerability of Inviting is Worth ItΒ 

It sucks when you realize that you must be the boss of your own social life and that making friends and building community requires effort, vulnerability, and a willingness to create relational glue.Β 

But when a collection of people agrees to spill their interactions outside of the original container then that’s when depth and connections flourish.Β 

That makes it worth it.Β 

How to:

  1. Start with purpose. What exactly are you craving? What is your unmet need? What do you actually want to spend your time doing with or around other people?

  2. Join (or create) a group that you want to be a part of. Show up consistently and repeatedly.Β 

  3. Make a specific invitation. This is not β€œWe should do _____ sometime” it’s β€œI’m planning to do a float trip on Saturday May 30th in Cape Fear at 11 AM. If you’re interested and available, do you want to join me?” or β€˜I’m planning on writing for an hour at 6 pm, would anyone like to co-work?”

  4. Be a generous host and a considerate guest. Assume good intent. RSVP honestly.

  5. And finally, let yourself outgrow a group, an interest, an expectation. Leave with grace.Β Β 

A micro-community is a practice of connection. We’re planning another retreat for the winter.Β 

How might you build the one you crave?

Rachel Thompson is the founder and CEO of Daring Studios, a strategic creative studio helping founders, freelancers, and creatives build solo businesses with more clarity, confidence, and creative freedom. A Certified Professional Facilitator with 15+ years of experience, she works at the intersection of strategy, creative, and facilitation to help people move in the direction they actually want to go. She is based in Cary, NC with her dog, Devin. Find her online at daringstudios.com and on LinkedIn.

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