an important lesson from the lion hunt...

My heart is overflowing after (nearly) two extraordinary weeks in Kenya with my kiddo – time with such special and beloved humans, powerful encounters with wild beauty, and moments that will live in our hearts forever.

I'm savoring and integrating the experiences we've had here, and will share more in the weeks ahead, but one story is asking to be told now.

At the Lodge where we stayed, elephants, zebras, waterbuck, hippos, and birds visited daily – close enough to take our breath away.

On a game drive, we witnessed something extraordinary, that even our guide had never seen: ten lions ambushing a group of antelope. (I didn't see the actual kill - which I'm admittedly grateful for - but I saw the lead up, the different strategic moments of the hunt, and the after.) The hunt was swift, powerful, and well-coordinated.

And while I have a whole workshop on leadership and teamwork I'm dreaming up based on what I observed, what I want to share today is the piece that has stayed with me the most – what happened above it all.

A vast flock of birds swooped in wide, sweeping circles, following the first attempt and the ultimate kill – not once, but again and again, in a rhythmic, well-coordinated way. I asked our guide why. His answer: to warn the other animals of danger, to alert them to move to safety.

How incredible that this flock of birds, having witnessed the event, worked in collective to alert the other creatures that they needed to move to safety.

Community, working together for survival. A collective nervous system of sorts.

The elephants who drank together at the pool, moving as a collective.

The circle of beloved humans who gathered to celebrate an extraordinary and beloved woman’s life and gather in beauty, to make joy, new variations on community, and powerful memories. And even Gabi’s answer tonight when I asked about the favorite part of this trip: “Being with the people at the Lodge. I loved connecting with all of them – the adults, the teens, the little kids.”

All point to the same truth: community sustains us.

Our nervous systems are wired for this. Fight, flight, and freeze are functional, important survival tools – but they are not meant to be the places we reside. The social nervous system – that governs how we connect, co-regulate, love, and belong – is essential for resilience, for healing, for hope.

It’s why I create spaces like Roots of Resilience.

Community is not an extra – it’s a core part of the medicine. It’s the flock circling overhead, alerting us to danger and guiding us toward safety.

It’s the space that allows us to lay down our grief, anxiety, sadness, and heavy load, and find healing, connection, clarity, and possibility again.

It's the place we gather and celebrate.