Belonging Through Facilitation

Reflections on How Family Gatherings Shaped My Sense of Connection

Growing up in a small town in Alberta, Canada, family gatherings were a touchstone of connection for me. These Lebanese family get-togethers were filled with the comforting scents of home-cooked food, laughter, and the gentle nudging of aunts and uncles insisting their dish was the best. These moments taught me something fundamental about the dynamics of bringing people together. The gatherings were unstructured—a swirl of conversations, kids playing, adults immersed in their discussions, and those of us who were too old to be kids but too young to join the adults, floating somewhere in between. It was chaotic, messy, and wonderful, but most importantly, it was about belonging.

In our rural town of about 500 people, we were the only Lebanese family. There were no others around us who shared our culture or understood our traditions. I always felt caught between two worlds—the old values my parents insisted upon and the Western norms I saw around me. My lunchbox was a symbol of this duality. While my friends had PB&J sandwiches and Lunchables, mine held foods like labneh and kafta, dishes that turned heads in the school cafeteria. Delicious as they were, they also made me stand out—not always in a comfortable way. This feeling of being disconnected from those around me was the seed that later grew into my fascination with facilitation.

Those early gatherings taught me a lot about human connection, even if I didn’t fully understand it at the time. The sense of community, the shared meals, and the organic way conversations flowed all pointed to the magic of bringing people together without a rigid plan. There was a spontaneity that made these moments special. I started to realize, even at a young age, that the magic of connection often lies in creating space for people to simply be themselves, to come together and be seen. As a child, I remember how I would linger on the fringes, observing how my family members interacted, how laughter bubbled up unexpectedly, and how people found their own ways to bond. It left a lasting impression on me—one that continued to evolve as I grew older.

Volunteering, Joy, and a Call to Facilitate

As I grew older, I started to notice the importance of creating spaces where people felt seen and heard. I began volunteering for young professional groups, joining boards, and even starting a community project called JOYMOB, where we organized spontaneous dance events to spread joy in our community. It dawned on me that I loved the act of bringing people together for shared experiences—experiences that left us all feeling a little less alone, a little more connected.

Volunteering gave me a first-hand understanding of the power of facilitation, even if I didn’t yet have the words for it. I found myself naturally gravitating towards roles where I could help foster connection—whether it was organizing gatherings, creating social events, or leading group activities. I realized that people often needed a nudge, a reason to come together, and that once they did, something truly beautiful happened. It wasn’t about grand gestures or elaborate plans; it was about creating a space where people felt comfortable enough to engage.

During this journey, I stumbled across a YouTube video by Peter Sharp, a facilitator from Australia, who danced on a morning commute train. He danced alone at first, in a suit, with the entire train watching—and eventually, others joined him. Watching him, I felt a wave of nervousness and excitement. I realized that facilitation was about being willing to stand alone at first, to be vulnerable enough to make a fool of yourself so that others might join in. His courage inspired me, and in 2018, I organized my first JOYMOB event—a global dance party in Salt Lake City—and 60 people showed up. It was a moment of pure magic and a realization that facilitating joy and connection was something I wanted to do more of.

I remember the energy of that first event—the way strangers came together, at first shyly, then with growing enthusiasm. There was laughter, music, and an unspoken sense of unity that permeated the air. It was one of those experiences that confirmed what I had always believed: people are craving connection, and sometimes all it takes is someone willing to take the first step. From that day on, I knew that I wanted to keep doing this work—creating spaces where people could drop their inhibitions and simply connect.

Choosing Voltage Control

Fast forward a few years to 2020, and the world had shifted. With in-person events on pause, I was at a loss. I didn’t know how to translate the spontaneity and joy of physical gatherings into a virtual space. It was around that time I discovered Priya Parker’s book, *The Art of Gathering*, and realized that meaningful connection could indeed happen online—I just needed to understand how. Around the same time, a friend of mine, Chris, who had been through Voltage Control’s facilitation program, shared his experience with me. He spoke about the curriculum, the community, and how the program had helped him make a similar transition. It felt like all the signs were pointing me toward Voltage Control. So, I leaned in.

Making the decision to join Voltage Control was not an easy one. I had doubts—could an online program really teach me how to create the kind of magic I had experienced in person? Would I be able to adapt to a new way of doing things? But hearing Chris’s stories about the supportive community and the tangible skills he gained reassured me. He described how the program wasn’t just about learning techniques; it was about understanding yourself as a facilitator, about finding your voice and using it to guide others. That resonated deeply with me, and I knew I had to give it a try.

Experiencing the Voltage Control Certification

The three months I spent with Voltage Control were eye-opening. I remember feeling incredibly vulnerable in those early days. I had so many questions, many of which seemed silly to me. But the cohort created an environment of psychological safety—we were all learning, all supporting each other. One of the most challenging parts of the program was the portfolio work. At first, I struggled to articulate my facilitation style and the shift I wanted to create in my participants. But as the course went on, it clicked. I began to understand that my role was to guide people from a state of disconnection to one of authentic joy and presence.

The highlight, though, was the community—the connections I built with my peers. Some of us shared backgrounds in the arts, and that mutual understanding helped deepen our bonds. I even reconnected with Chris on a whole new level—together, we co-facilitated events and eventually became chapter leaders of a global speaker series. We had the chance to put into practice what we learned, to support one another, and to experiment with new ideas. It was incredibly fulfilling to see our growth as facilitators and as leaders.

The portfolio work that initially felt daunting became a source of immense pride. I learned to articulate my unique facilitation style, to define the shifts I wanted to create, and to understand the emotional journey of my participants. The clarity I gained from this work was transformative—it helped me see my strengths in a new light, and it gave me a framework for continuing to grow and evolve. I began to see facilitation not just as a skill, but as an art—something that requires empathy, courage, and creativity.

New Paths, New Possibilities

Since completing the certification, my work has evolved significantly. I’ve brought the art of joyful connection into corporate spaces, helping teams build authentic relationships with each other through JOYMOB events. I used to be daunted by the prospect of corporate work, but Voltage Control gave me the courage to step into that world with confidence. Today, my client list includes organizations that have invited me back again and again, turning one-off events into ongoing partnerships. The tools I learned—like think-pair-share and Priya Parker’s idea of generous authority—helped me navigate and guide discussions in ways that felt inclusive and empowering.

I’ve also expanded the types of experiences I offer. Beyond traditional team-building, I’ve facilitated sessions on creative problem-solving, empathy-building, and even sessions that use movement and music to unlock new ways of thinking. I’ve seen firsthand how incorporating elements of play and spontaneity can lead to deeper, more authentic connections, even in professional settings. There is something incredibly powerful about seeing people drop their guard, even just for a moment, and engage with one another in a real, human way.

The ripple effects of this work have been remarkable. One client, after attending a team-building session, shared that it was the first time in years they had felt truly connected to their colleagues. Another told me that the exercises we did together helped them approach a long-standing internal conflict with new empathy and understanding. These are the moments that remind me why I do this work—because when people connect, they are capable of incredible things.

Looking Ahead

The TEDx Talk I recently gave was the culmination of all these experiences—a chance to bring together the lessons I’ve learned about creating movements and sparking joy. It was an opportunity to stand on stage and share my story, to talk about the power of vulnerability, and to encourage others to take that first step towards connection. Preparing for the talk was an intense journey in itself—six months of practice, refining my message, and working with coaches to ensure that my words resonated. The experience was transformative, and it solidified my desire to continue speaking and sharing my journey.

In the coming years, I want to do more public speaking, more facilitation for larger groups, and ultimately work with organizations to foster environments where belonging is not just a temporary experience within a workshop, but a constant state of being. My dream is to create communities where joy and connection are woven into the everyday fabric of life—at work, in public, and at home. I want to collaborate with like-minded individuals and organizations who share my vision, who believe that connection and belonging are at the heart of everything we do.

I also hope to mentor others who are just starting their journey into facilitation. I know how daunting it can be to take those first steps, to put yourself out there, and I want to be the person who says, “You can do this.” I want to help others find their voice, to discover their unique style, and to experience the profound joy that comes from facilitating meaningful connection. There is so much potential in the world, so much untapped creativity and empathy, and I believe facilitation is one of the keys to unlocking it.

If I were to leave someone considering the certification with a piece of advice, it would be this: really beautiful things can happen when you trust yourself enough to lean into the stretch zone. For me, the certification was that stretch—a leap into something unknown—and what I found on the other side was community, courage, and a deep sense of belonging. The journey isn’t always easy, but it is always worth it. Lean in, trust yourself, and be open to the magic that unfolds.