Community
Why Community Matters to Me
For me, it all boils down to one core value: building real, authentic connections. I’m talking about creating the kind of community where people actually know each other’s names, share a laugh, swap a story or two, and genuinely connect—without all the phony pretenses. None of that “Heyyy girl, I've missed you, it's been so longgggg, how arrreeee you?” crap.
I don’t do my community work for pats on the back, perks, or to impress anyone. Almost everything I’ve done over the years—from hosting epic dinner parties and goofy team game nights to organizing free group hikes—has been on my own dime, offered up purely because I believe it makes life better for everyone involved.
I strongly feel that producing positive energy in some facet should be an impulsive regular behavior in everyone's life. Not a goal-based assignment, a weekly chore, or a pressured contribution from peers. Maybe that's always being that compassion ear for friends in distress, contributing financially to a good cause, helping clean up a local park once in a while, beautifying your neighborhood, or simply exercising extra effort to smooth conflict and be polite in day to day interactions instead of acting on instinct.
Why Community Matters
Community is about giving people a place to belong. We now live in a hyper-connected world that’s ironically one of the loneliest times in human history. Growing up, I remember how challenging it could be, especially if you weren’t into the usual “go to a pub and get hammered” scene, or you weren’t lining up outside a church for your dose of Sunday socializing. It didn’t help that I worked an online job without an office staff, and wasn’t into any sports clubs.
I wanted to offer something different: an open door, a welcoming backyard, a lake adventure, or a casual indoor game night where strangers would leave as friends. I regularly—and I mean literally—invited strangers from the internet who saw my posts into my home for potluck dinners.
Universal Love & Stranger Danger
People were honestly shocked that I’d give out my home address to complete strangers and then actually invite them over. The inevitable question: “Aren’t you worried about crazies or thieves?” Sure, once in a blue moon, we’d meet someone who clearly struggled to maintain healthy social connections and brought their issues right through my front door. But they were the exception, not the rule.
In fact, I’d say 9/10 of those who came by were down-to-earth, open-minded, and genuinely interested in connecting. Meeting people from different careers, cultures, and backgrounds felt like a kind of armchair world tour—no plane ticket required. And if we ever did encounter an odd rotten apple, we dealt with it and moved on, leaving the rest of us free to forge meaningful friendships.
As the organizer, I learned the hard way that being the friendly, visible face of a community can paint a target on your back. Sometimes, you become the go-to punching bag for anyone bringing drama, instability, or outright hostility—especially when they fill in the blanks of your life with their own narratives and perspectives. People who fail to understand your mission, or can’t accept what you’re trying to build, often lash out simply because you’re standing there in plain sight. Practicing "Universal Love" and altruistic behavior has been met with unwarranted backlash throughout all of history, by countless famous leaders.
This forced me to confront a difficult truth. Humanity loves to over simplify and polarize—whether it’s Mac vs. PC, Trump vs. Biden, or men vs. women. We cling to absolutes and categories as a kind of crude shortcut. I’ve always pushed back against that way of thinking, yet I’ve come to realize that sometimes keeping personal identities off the stage is the safer bet.
Operating as multiple, generic, and faceless entities, we can protect those who truly want to help. In doing so, we avoid becoming lightning rods for frustration, and let the community itself—and the connections it fosters—take center stage. So today, I operate a number of organizations that provide online community forums, and have laid out the template for how things should ideally operate. This allows others to step up to the plate, in their own fields of interest, to provide events and services while reaching a large audience. These are societies where there is no elite "senate" presiding over the public, and no single "leader" — just a basic code of conduct to follow. Buddha, as per my own philosophy as well, never desired to be idolized but instead have others to follow his example.
Putting My Money Where My Mouth Is
Over the years, I’ve done more than my fair share of things that raised an eyebrow, but they felt right then and still do now. I randomly covered the cost of an acquaintances insulin pump so they could live a normal life again. I donated a large sum to a family in the Philippines to repair the damage to their house after a typhoon. I hosted a free Greek dinner for local healthcare workers just to say “thanks.” I even dabbled in local politics, promising to live in temporary housing until real solutions for homelessness actually took shape.
When traveling, I make it a habit to tip extra for folks working hard in places where wages are tough. I’ve lent money to friends without hounding them for payback—if they remember and return it, great; if not, I’m not losing sleep. It’s never about showing off, just doing my part to make someone’s day a bit better.
Creating Shared Experiences
There were hundreds of free events: communal paint nights, clay sculpting sessions, story circles around a fire pit, even those Great Gatsby-esque roaring 1920s dinners where we’d dress up as if we were old-money aristocrats for an evening. Sometimes it was zip-lining, dog sledding, or helicopter tours—where I’d charge just enough to cover costs, often less. Other times, it was as simple as board game nights, hiking trips, or afternoons on Okanagan Lake with kayaks and paddleboards.
The goal was always the same: bring people together, face-to-face, sharing something real and more importantly bonding over a common interest. No ulterior motives, no corporate sponsorships, no secret “quid-pro-quo” business perks. Just one human to another enjoying each other’s company, hopefully finding friendships they didn’t have yesterday. And let’s be honest, not everyone can afford these activities on their own. It brought me real joy to open that door for them, even just a little.
Adventures and Odd Ideas
Let’s talk about “Dark Techno Hide and Seek” in my house—was it a brilliant idea? Absolutely. Did things get broken? Way too many! But it’s a memory we’ll never forget. We also took garbage bags and cleaned up the local city park just to show we could do some good together without expecting medals. We raised money for the Journey Home project and the Kelowna Food Bank during free hikes, built Christmas care baskets for families in need, and if there was a cool idea—like building a potato tower with duct tape on St. Patrick’s Day or exploring the Kootenays in search of hot springs—it was fair game.
Why It’s All Worth It
This might sound like a lot (and believe me, my grocery bills and stained furniture prove it), but I do these things because I truly believe we’re all better off when we’re connected with a powerful inner circle. Dunbar's number is a psychological study of how the ideal size for a social group is 15 people. Many people are oxytocin and socially starved (even introverts!), and it has a substantial impact on their well-being. There’s something transformative about sitting across from a total stranger, sharing a laugh, or marveling at a sunset on a hike and realizing that you’re no longer strangers.
That’s the magic of public social events that don't just revolve around food or alcohol: it strips away awkwardness, suspicion, and isolation, replacing them with inclusion, understanding, and sometimes genuine friendship. Let’s face it, as adults, our options to meet people beyond the usual pubs, office parties, or awkward dating apps are pretty limited.
Be the Change You Want in Others
At its core—it's philanthropy. It matters because it builds bridges, forging meaningful bonds in a world that too often reduces us to mere cogs in a soulless machine. The greatest minds—visionaries like Leonardo da Vinci, compassionate leaders like Nelson Mandela, and luminaries like Mother Teresa—recognized that the strength of humanity lies in how we uplift one another.
The crucial essence is that these actions must flow from our innate drive to do good, freely and without expectation of return. If we attach conditions or await reciprocation, we dilute the very spirit that makes such kindness transformative. I do this because every time we invest in one another—purely, selflessly, and wholeheartedly—we rise together as one community. And in that unity, we all thrive.