I stopped being a villager, but the tribe never left.

There’s something nobody really tells you about building a business.

At some point, the lines between work and life get really, really blurry.

People ask, “So what do you do for fun?”

And sometimes I genuinely pause.

Because… honestly?

I talk about my business for fun. I think about my business for fun. I dream up workshops while brushing my teeth. I see a cute little jar somewhere and immediately think, “Oh, we could do something with that.”

Sometimes my work is my life.

And I love it.

I love creating. I love people. I love the studio. I love watching someone walk through our doors unsure of what they’re making and leave with something they’re proud of. But there is a part of entrepreneurship that can hurt in a way nobody really prepares you for.

People can mistake your presence for your availability.

They see you posting.

They see the workshops.

They see the events.

They see the announcements, the behind-the-scenes videos, the “come see us!” posts.

And sometimes they assume that because we're visible, we're constantly available.

But here's the thing about running a business:

Not everything you see is happening in real time.

Sometimes that Instagram post you're seeing was created months ago, sitting in our content folder, and we're only finally getting around to posting it. That is what scheduled post features are for.

Sometimes an announcement goes out on a day when we’re running on empty behind the scenes—when the whole team is pulling together to keep the doors open, make sure the workshop goes off without a hitch, and somehow make it all look effortless, so no one ever sees just how much it took to get there.

Sometimes we've been open every day but I was not physically present in the studio. This is intentional as our business grows. There's a lot of strategy and planning behind what you see. There are calendars, conversations, supplier orders, event prep, emails, admin, finances, content, cleaning, creating, problem-solving and about 47 things happening at the same time that never make it to Instagram.

And then there's the very real lesson I've had to learn this year:

I don't always have to be the person doing everything.

After life gave me no choice but to take a brief break from the studio earlier this year, I realized something. I needed to step back. Not because I stopped caring, but because I care so deeply about what we’ve built. And sometimes, loving something means trusting the people beside you enough to let them carry it too. I want this work to keep growing, keep moving, and keep making an impact without always needing me at the centre of it.

Sometimes leadership looks like being in the room. And sometimes leadership looks like trusting the people beside you enough to step out of it. So if you're stopping by the studio, give me a heads up. I'd genuinely love to be there if I can. But if I'm not there, please know that doesn't mean the studio isn't being loved, cared for or looked after. It means I'm learning to breathe a little. I'm learning that the business can keep moving even when I'm not physically moving every single piece.

And honestly?

That's been a hard lesson.

But a necessary one.

And stepping back also taught me something else.

You notice who notices.

When you're always the one showing up, answering, creating, posting and doing, it's easy to assume people know you're okay because they can see you.

But being visible doesn't mean you're okay.

Being busy doesn't mean you're okay.

And being good at keeping things moving doesn't mean you don't sometimes need someone to stop and ask:

“Are you okay?”

That question means more than people realize, and to the people who have asked it, thank you. We have not forgotten a single soul that checked in. We see you! We appreciate you!

To the ones who check in just to let us know you think of us,

To the ones who tag us in things we might love,

To the ones who like our posts instead of just scrolling past,

Please know that little heart matters.

Every like, every share, every comment, every save, every tag, every person you tell about us feels like support and it helps.

And the beautiful thing? It doesn't cost you anything.

Small businesses like ours are often built on much more than transactions. They're built on people who remember you. People who tell their friends. People who cheer when something works. People who check in when things don't. People who quietly keep showing up.

And that brings me to something else I want you to know.

You don't need to book a workshop to come into the studio.

We mean it!

Come see us even when you do not have a workshop booked. Our studio is not just a place of business but a space to connect. I would love to see your face. Dylan will probably chat your ear off. We'll pour you a cup of our hand-blended herbal tea, sit for a minute and just… connect. Because before there was a business, there were people. And that's the part we never want to lose.

Maybe that's why the people who showed up during the harder seasons mean so much to us. We will never forget the friends who showed up. The ones who called. The ones who checked in. The ones who didn't need an explanation. The ones who didn't ask us to be “on.”

The ones who simply reminded us that we weren't doing this alone.

I stopped being a villager, but the tribe never left.

Being a villager meant being deeply embedded in community. It meant showing up, creating spaces, bringing people together, being the person others could count on, and carrying a sense of responsibility for the collective. For so long, that was a part of how I understood myself. So when life asked more of me, retreating hurt in a way I didn't expect. I wasn't just stepping away from events, work, or people. I was stepping away from a version of myself that had always been so outwardly present. I withdrew from the community-facing version of myself because I was trying to survive, recover, or simply get through what was happening. And there was guilt in that retreat, because when you've spent so much of your life showing up for the village, being the one who goes quiet can feel almost like you're letting everyone down. But I was learning that sometimes retreat isn't abandonment. Sometimes it is how you find your way back to yourself.

And when you remember that, you start to understand what community really means.

It isn't just showing up when everything is exciting.

It's checking in when the doors are closed.

It's remembering the person behind the business.

It's sitting with someone without needing anything from them.

It's making room for one another.

And maybe that's why we're choosing to open the doors a little wider this September. As part of Culture Days, we're bringing things back to our roots.

Back to culture.

Back to community.

Back to the things that remind us that wellness isn't always about escaping your life.

Sometimes wellness is remembering where you came from.

It's music.

It's scent.

It's storytelling.

It's gathering around a table.

It's herbs and oils and recipes passed down.

It's laughter.

It's rest.

It's knowing that you belong somewhere.

This year, we're exploring wellness and self-care through our African and Caribbean roots. through the lens of culture, community and the little things that have always helped us feel grounded. And we're doing it the way we'd like to do more things:

Together.

Culture Days is a national celebration of arts, culture and heritage, bringing communities together through hands-on, participatory experiences. In Vaughan, the 2026 celebration runs from September 18 to October 4, and we're incredibly grateful to the City of Vaughan for inviting us to be part of it again.

So this September, we're giving back.

We'll be hosting a few special Culture Days experiences at the studio, experiences rooted in culture, wellness, creativity and connection.

We want you there.

Bring your friend.

Bring your cousin.

Bring your mom.

Bring the person you've been saying, “We really need to do something together,” to for the last six months.

Come make something.

Come learn something.

Come laugh.

Come sit.

Come reconnect.

Come be part of the village.

And I'm going to say this now because every year we somehow manage to sell out:

RSVP early. It is free to RSVP. And you want to be in the room.

Because we would love to see your face.

Not your booking.

Not your transaction.

You.

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Thank you to everyone who has held space for us through the beautiful seasons and the really hard ones. Thank you to the people who keep showing up.

Thank you to the people who keep believing.

Thank you to the City of Vaughan for welcoming us back.

And thank you to the tribe that never left.

We'll see you in September.