In school, I never hesitated to volunteer. I remember being a cheerleader for basketball despite being 4 feet 11 inches tall and definitely not the fastest on any field. Sports weren’t exactly my thing, but I loved bringing energy, pulling people together, and making sure everyone felt connected. Even though it was a tiny school, with only about 70 students in my graduating class, there were plenty of committees and clubs—Pep Club, FBLA, Student Council—and I ended up holding a governance role in nearly all of them. By senior year, I was the student body president, coordinating events, and rallying people around shared goals. It wasn’t ambition; it was simply a love for building momentum and energy.

I think a lot of that came from the way I was raised. My mom always pushed me to get involved, try everything, step out of my comfort zone. Being curious, eager, and willing to dive into new things just became second nature. It shaped my instinct to step into leadership roles, even though at the time I wasn’t really thinking about leadership or facilitation at all.

When I was at DHL, our vice president asked me to present at an internal department meeting. I was one of the most junior people in the room, but I stepped up and delivered my content my way—casual, interactive, conversational. I had everyone laughing, engaging, and openly giving feedback. Months later, at an all-hands meeting, she singled me out, saying, “Our best presenter is Kristi.” I was stunned. I hadn’t been intentionally performing; I had just been myself. But that moment sparked a curiosity. I began to wonder: what exactly was I doing differently? How could I refine it and become more intentional about creating engaging experiences for others?

I brought this mindset into our sports marketing initiatives. At baseball games, we didn’t just put up a DHL banner—we created a story. We dressed up as DHL drivers and delivered pizza to fans in the stands; we made it fun, memorable, and immersive. We had to create moments where people felt part of something bigger, moments that would linger long after the game ended. This wasn’t just brand building; it was community building, story building, and momentum building.

Later, when I transitioned into internal communications, I faced the challenge of getting people aligned around internal goals and strategies, which is notoriously difficult. I instinctively leaned into workshop formats—though, again, I wasn’t explicitly calling it facilitation yet. I realized traditional presentations weren’t going to move the needle. I needed engagement. That meant interactive activities, structured conversations, and visual ways of working.

It was around this time I started working with a coach, Mary Beth Mains, who became both a mentor and a good friend. She continually reinforced what I was naturally good at. I often overlooked these skills because they came easily to me, but she encouraged me to see them clearly, to acknowledge them as valuable, and to build on them intentionally. That encouragement was a crucial pivot point—it validated that my natural instincts were worth honing and deepening.

When the Format Becomes the Force

Moving to WHO brought a new level of complexity. Here I was, trying to help teams implement global health solutions in wildly diverse contexts. Every country had its own starting point, its own political landscape, its own tech capabilities. There was no single implementation plan that worked for all 194 member states. You couldn’t just roll out a policy and expect it to land.

I started to notice where things were breaking down: our meetings. Teams would say, “We’ve had five meetings and nothing’s moving.” And I’d ask: “What happened in the meetings?” Usually, they’d show a slide deck, ask a few questions, and… nothing.

So I started intervening. Asking: what is the actual purpose of this meeting? Is this about informing? Co-creating? Making a decision? Let’s get clear on that first. Then let’s create space for the people in the room to actually participate. Even at academic conferences, where the norm is to present and move on, I began experimenting with embedded 1-2-4-Alls or structured prompts to turn passive listening into idea generation.

I wasn’t trying to overhaul everything overnight. But I did want to inject curiosity, experimentation, and shared authorship into the way we gather. Not just to feel better, but to actually get things done.

One memorable example came during a major WHO workshop originally planned as an in-person, three-day event. Due to unexpected funding cuts and travel freezes, my team had to rapidly pivot to hosting the event completely online. Everyone around me was skeptical, convinced it couldn’t be done effectively virtually. But I had just begun the Voltage Control facilitation certification and was learning powerful methods like Liberating Structures, particularly 1-2-4-All. I told my team, “We can do this.”

Despite resistance and logistical challenges—like no access to Zoom and limited familiarity with Microsoft Teams whiteboards—I methodically began to apply the facilitation techniques I was learning. We rehearsed, troubleshot, and experimented relentlessly. The result was a huge success. We didn’t just meet our objectives—we exceeded them. Participants engaged fully, contributed rich feedback, and left energized rather than drained. It was a revelation to my colleagues: facilitation wasn’t a nice-to-have; it was transformational. From then on, they trusted me to structure interactions differently, understanding the power of a thoughtfully designed meeting.

Clicking Through the Chaos

I found Voltage Control the way a lot of people do: by Googling. It was the fall of last year, and I was searching for facilitation programs. Voltage Control kept showing up on all these curated lists. Coming from a marketing background, I know lists can be bought. So I was skeptical at first. But I kept seeing them again and again. Either they were very rich, or very legit. (Spoiler: it wasn’t the former.)

What stood out was the length of the certification. Most other programs were a couple of days or weeks. This one was three months. That felt like the right depth. I’d done a creativity coaching program the year before and realized how valuable it is to stretch learning out over time. It lets you try things, apply them, and come back with questions.

So I applied. I didn’t overthink it. I tend to ask questions later and trust my gut.

Learning by Doing, Not by Lecture

I’ll be honest. I showed up to the first day of the certification without fully understanding what I had signed up for. Skye kept referencing the final portfolio presentation, and I kept thinking, “Wait, what are we working toward again?”

But I loved that it was experiential. There were no lectures on theory. We’d read something, then immediately use it—Troika, TRIZ, 1-2-4-All. There was no lengthy breakdown of the method; we’d just try it, reflect, and move on.

It affirmed what I’d always felt. I’d rather run a meeting with a handful of liberating structures than with a polished deck. PowerPoint makes me break out in hives. I’d rather people interact with each other and the content than just sit through slides.

The cohort itself was also a gift. We clicked quickly, and that made the solo weeks in the middle of the program harder. When we returned to the final phase, there was real joy in seeing everyone again. The feedback and encouragement I received, even from people I hadn’t worked with directly, was incredibly validating. It reminded me: this isn’t just something I enjoy, I’m actually good at it.

Prototyping Change in Real Time

During the certification, I was building a real-time workshop for WHO. Originally, it was going to be in-person over three days. Then came the travel ban. Suddenly, we were going remote. My team panicked. “There’s no way this will work online,” they said.

But I was in the middle of certification and knew it could work. I started slowly—shifting our planning meetings to be more participatory, getting the team familiar with breakout groups and digital whiteboards. They were skeptical, but I kept going.

We didn’t have a Zoom license, so we used Microsoft Teams, which is famously clunky. Our consultants logged in with personal Gmail accounts to practice. We ran rehearsals. We built the whiteboards. And we pulled it off.

The virtual workshop exceeded expectations. We didn’t just gather feedback; we co-designed implementation pathways. Participants shared what would and wouldn’t work in their contexts. They offered open-source code, shared plans, and talked openly about collaboration. It worked because we created space for them to speak.

From Host to Catalyst

Since the certification, I’m being asked to help more teams—not just run meetings, but design gatherings that work. I’m doing diagnostic work with colleagues: What is the real purpose of your meeting? What kind of engagement are you inviting? Is your format actually aligned with your goals?

In the middle of our reorg, I’ve been working with leadership on what happens after the org chart is published. What kind of culture do we want to create? How do we design the space to live into that culture?

The certification helped me name and strengthen something I was already doing intuitively. It gave me tools, vocabulary, and the confidence to stand by my choices. When someone pushes back—”People won’t do 1-2-4-All,”—I now know how to hold my ground and say, “Let’s try it. Let’s see what happens.

Bringing Intention to the Unknown

Looking ahead, I want to do more of this strategic work. Not just facilitation, but guiding teams through the full arc of convening—before, during, and after. Helping them set the right questions. Helping them listen better. Helping them design with their stakeholders, not just for them.

WHO’s mission is to convene. My work is about making those convenings matter.

Whether I’m designing a multi-country workshop or supporting leadership through change, I want to make sure we’re not just informing, but transforming. That people walk away not just with information, but with ownership.

If you’re on the fence about the certification, I say: jump in. Try it. See what happens. If you’re like me, you’ll ask questions later. But you’ll learn by doing, and you’ll leave with more confidence than you walked in with.

This isn’t a traditional classroom. It’s an experience. And if you’re someone who finds energy in ideas, who likes bringing people together for a reason, then you’re going to love it here.

The post The Power of a Well-Placed Why appeared first on Voltage Control.

Ever wondered how someone ends up as a professional facilitator? It’s rarely a childhood dream. But the winding road that brings us here is often full of learning, pivots, and the pursuit of more meaningful collaboration. It’s a running joke within the community. Most of us stumbled upon this profession by accident, perhaps sensing that there had to be a better way for people to work and learn together. And discovering a passion and a potential career in solving that problem. Every so often, I receive a message asking how I found my way into facilitation. And like many others, my path wasn’t a straight line; it was more of a winding, adventurous trail. Perhaps my story will offer some insights for those of you just starting or curious about the journey.

Starting Without a Map

The world after college felt vast and directionless. My initial career strategy was simple: try different professions until one truly resonated. This feeling was amplified by a couple of uninspiring internships that made it clear I needed more than just a paycheck; I wanted to be the guy who could see the big picture and help others see it too.

Learning Through Adventure

Fate intervened in the form of a college friend who gave me a strong recommendation for a role at a student travel company. This marked the beginning of my deep dive into the world of experiential education, a cornerstone of my career journey for the next decade. I spent those years crafting and leading global travel experiences for students across the Americas, helping groups of young individuals and their teachers broaden their horizons and work in teams.

At first, I was drawn to the idea of getting paid to explore. But as I matured in the role, I fell deeply in love with the art of experiential learning, the subtle dance of making the learning process not just educational but truly impactful. The benefits of this approach are profound and well-documented: improved knowledge retention through active, relevant group activities; the development of crucial soft skills like teamwork, communication, and leadership; enhanced motivation and emotional engagement; the crucial bridge between theory and real-world practice; a safe space for experimentation and learning from mistakes; and ultimately, increased self-efficacy and empowerment. 

I loved trying to make our programs feel as effortless as possible, meticulously noting needs that arose during one experience and then addressing them in the design of the next. Before I knew it, I had worked all over the Americas, contributing to the growth and development of hundreds of students, teachers, and adventurers.

The work felt incredibly rewarding. I tell people I’d probably still be doing it if I hadn’t hit a ceiling as an employee. So much so that I made several passionate but ultimately unsuccessful attempts to launch my own programs. When those ventures didn’t pan out, I felt adrift, the prospect of starting a less exciting career loomed.

Discovering Design Thinking

Then, in 2015, a new horizon appeared: Design Thinking. A friend in Bogota invited me to help implement a program teaching students the fundamental principles of Human-Centered Design. This was a revelation. I was immediately struck by the powerful impact this seemingly simple problem-solving approach could have on teams. And then, I discovered that companies worldwide were actively seeking individuals to integrate Design Thinking methodologies into their business processes.

Finally, I knew my next move. I had found a more practical approach to helping people learn, and solve problems. In 2016, despite lacking a formal background in design or technology and with only one short project under my belt, I dove headfirst into the world of Design Thinking.

There was a steep learning curve! It felt overwhelming at times. I immersed myself in problem framing, various research methodologies, prototyping, and the crucial balance between convergent and divergent thinking, among a myriad of other topics. And, of course, the ever-present question loomed: how long would it take to start earning a living?

Facilitation as a Craft

With the cost and time commitment of a Master’s degree feeling prohibitive, and a strong belief in my natural ability to bring people together for social learning, I opted for an entrepreneurial approach. Alongside devouring the essential books, listening to insightful podcasts, and actively participating in online forums, I recognized the vital importance of building genuine relationships with established design leaders in the industry. This led me to start a Design Thinking meetup in my new home of Salt Lake City, Utah. At each gathering, anywhere from five to fifty people would come together to apply Design Thinking principles to tackle a real-world public challenge. Over four remarkable years, I hosted eighty of these Design Thinking meetups.

During this period of intense self-learning, I stumbled upon Jake Knapp’s work, “Sprint.” In this book, he brilliantly breaks down the often-intimidating innovation workshop into an accessible recipe, clearly defining the roles of each participant. I believe that was the first time the role of a facilitator truly crystallized for me.“Facilitation wasn’t just a skill—it was a mindset. A way of holding space, of helping people find their own way forward.” And then, seemingly out of the blue, I was offered the opportunity to facilitate Design Sprints at a local company!

It was exhilarating! The process felt remarkably similar to crafting those student travel experiences; I could focus on the process, ensuring everyone was engaged and learning together. I was hooked!

Finding My Facilitation Community

So the question remained: how could I create more opportunities to facilitate? Having now glimpsed the joy of professional facilitation and becoming aware of even more methodologies and skills, I felt a new wave of overwhelm. Even having already successfully led corporate innovation sessions, I knew it was time to stop going it alone and build confidence with like-minded people on a similar path.

My first step was to attend the Design Sprint Conference, where I experienced my first workshop facilitation training. It was there that I had the opportunity to connect with many inspiring individuals, one of whom was Douglas Ferguson, the President of Voltage Control. He was doing the very work I aspired to do, full-time and with evident passion.

One of the persistent challenges for facilitators is finding consistent opportunities to practice. Reading about facilitation techniques can only take you so far; practical, real-world experience is essential. Douglas, recognizing this need, hosted a weekly online community of practice session called Facilitation Lab. I became a regular participant, forging friendships within the community and actively sharing my learning journey on LinkedIn.

Perhaps recognizing my commitment and enthusiasm, Douglas extended an invitation to work as an assistant during his workshops. This was an incredible opportunity to become more comfortable navigating client relationships and new processes without all the stress. 

It also made me want to do what he was doing even more. It created an urgency within me to level up my own game faster. I needed a program to help me get there. And the Voltage Control’s Facilitation Certification was just what I needed to do it. 

Saying Yes to the Certification

Not to say there weren’t some initial hesitations about the Facilitation Certification. Since its 3 months, time commitment was a significant concern; juggling my existing work, passion projects, friends, and yoga obsession already felt like a tightrope walk. Additionally, because the certification program was intentionally method-agnostic, I worried it would be too theoretical. 

My doubts were quickly assuaged during the admissions call for the Voltage Control Facilitation Certification. This wasn’t a generic sales pitch; it felt like a tailored consultation. The team, with whom I already had a relationship, took the time to better understand my aspirations and challenges. They thoughtfully mapped out specific aspects of the program that would have the most significant impact on my individual growth and how to use the capstone portfolio presentation to fulfill the individual outcome I wanted. 

Deciding to finally enroll felt fantastic. I couldn’t wait to carve out time to work deeply on my goals. But the surprises didn’t end there, I was invited to be a Teaching Assistant (TA) for the program! I was genuinely thrilled.

Growth Through Practice and Community

Stepping into the role of TA brought with it a fresh set of challenges. Initially, I wrestled with self-doubt. Would I be knowledgeable enough? Could I effectively support other learners? However, these insecurities were overcome by the supportive environment of the cohort. The other participants were not only learners but invaluable allies. We were all navigating a learning journey together, sharing our experiences, offering encouragement, and celebrating each other’s progress. 

This cohort-based learning model proved to be incredibly powerful. The shared momentum kept us all engaged and accountable. The sense of community fostered a supportive system where we could freely ask questions, offer peer feedback, and build lasting professional connections. The diverse perspectives, combined with participants’ individual agendas, enriched our discussions and broadened our understanding of facilitation in various contexts.

Unexpected Gifts Along the Way

Unanticipated gifts surfaced out of these discussions. I discovered a new skill that would be both challenging and profoundly transformative for my practice: mastering Clean Language. Clean Language is a hallmark of effective facilitation. It’s the idea of using language precisely and neutrally, without injecting personal biases or interpretations into the conversation. Clean Language is a precise and empathetic way of facilitating conversations that allows individuals and groups to explore their own unique “map of the world” and discover their own meaningful insights and outcomes.

Learning Clean language is not easy. It takes lots of practice. It’s one thing to understand the theory, but putting it into practice requires conscious effort and self-awareness. I was ecstatic when Voltage Control provided a dedicated course on Clean Language during our asynchronous learning month, where I could roleplay with peers. 

The second unanticipated gift of the method-agnostic program was the confidence to lead across facilitation disciplines. Listening to my peers, I noticed that while specific activities might have different names across methodologies, the underlying principles often remain the same. I gained the ability to quickly see how activities from Design Thinking could be easily applied to organizational development, strategy, and learning agendas. 

I used Facilitation Lab to try out what we had been learning in the cohort. I liked having a safe space to experiment and receive feedback before sharing back with our cohort for more feedback. All these opportunities to practice instilled in me a greater sense of readiness for work with clients. 

Becoming a Facilitation Chef

Finally, receiving detailed feedback on my capstone portfolio project was perfect for gauging if I had met my personalized learning goals. It made me document and reflect on my evolving facilitation style, the strategies I employed, and the outcomes I helped achieve. This portfolio has become a crucial asset in communicating my capabilities to potential clients and collaborators, effectively showcasing the depth of my facilitation skills and my unwavering commitment to continuous improvement.

It became clear from feedback by experienced professionals that I had become more confident and adaptable in my practice. It made me think of an article I had read years earlier about “facilitation chefs”. “Cooks” follow recipes(Design Sprint), but the “chef” understands the ingredients and can adapt and create based on the specific needs of the group. What seemed like such a stretch at the time had become reality.

Beyond the tangible skills gained, the program created a deeper passion for the art of facilitation and the people doing the work. And just like during my time in student travel, I moved beyond just wanting a paycheck, doing something fun. I’ve fallen in love with a noble profession and desire to help advance it. This personal evolution transformed me into not just a more capable facilitator providing a better service for my clients, but a more fulfilled individual, genuinely excited about the prospect of driving meaningful change through the power of collaboration.           

As I look ahead, I’m committed to not only doing great work with great clients but helping others discover the magic of facilitation, too.

The post Bug Spray To Sticky Notes appeared first on Voltage Control.

Looking back now, I realize I was first introduced to facilitation before I even knew what to call it. It was 2004, and I had just started my corporate career in Sharjah, one of the Emirates in the UAE. Though my degree was in Mass Communications, I found myself working in the HR department, charged with setting up internal communications. It was a fascinating leap, and one that would unknowingly chart the course for the next two decades of my life. I was green, enthusiastic, and hungry to prove myself. But nothing could have prepared me for how deeply one particular experience would shape the way I view communication, collaboration, and ultimately, myself.

That’s when I met Mr. Hariharan—my mentor, boss, and one of the most formative figures in my career. He brought me into a project that, at the time, just seemed like a leadership training program. But something in that five-day workshop shifted the way I saw things. The facilitator, a gentleman from South Africa, held space in a way that changed the room. On Day One, the participants were difficult, set in their ways, unwilling to change. By Day Two, the energy shifted. People leaned in. They became open. They got curious. It was like magic. I didn’t understand what had happened, but I knew I had witnessed something powerful.

I didn’t know what was happening then—I was just 24—but the transformation was unmistakable. That experience planted a seed in me. I couldn’t name it at the time, but it stirred something profound. It was more than teaching. It was something relational, connective. Looking back, I think my curiosity was amplified by my cross-cultural background. I was used to listening for what wasn’t said, navigating nuances, and observing how power and connection played out differently depending on context. Years later, when I would find myself in similar rooms, I’d think back to that moment: that shift in energy, that movement toward openness. to do that too?”

In many ways, Hariharan was the first person to show me how to create meaningful conversations. He modeled what it meant to lead without controlling. To ask instead of tell. To nudge rather than push. And he did it with such humanity that it left a permanent imprint on me. Even now, I carry many of his lessons forward, both professionally and personally. His style was warm but clear, direct yet inviting. He created a space where transformation could unfold without forcing it.

There were other moments too, scattered across my career. Another one came while working in Abu Dhabi, when I witnessed—by contrast—what not to do. A director flew in to investigate a staff issue and handled it with such a lack of empathy and neutrality that it shut people down. That experience helped me understand the importance of psychological safety long before I had words for it. Ironically, another director on that same project maintained an open-door policy that I now recognize as a form of everyday facilitation—an invitation for open dialogue. That contrast taught me a lot about how facilitation shows up in leadership, in the micro-moments we often overlook.

Later, becoming a mother deepened my introspection. I took four years off to stay home with my daughter, and that pause sparked a new kind of growth. I wasn’t sure what came next, so I trained as a coach—not to become one professionally at first, but to equip myself with tools. That led me to start an online magazine, Slick Chick, where I interviewed everyday women transforming adversity into change. It wasn’t until much later that I realized those conversations were a kind of facilitation, too. I was creating space for others to reflect, to share vulnerably, and to find meaning in their stories.

Facilitating across generations—and across cultures within my own home—also helped me understand the role of identity in how we show up and share. Culture wasn’t just a backdrop; it was a key part of how we made meaning together.

It was around that time that I also began to understand facilitation as not just a skill, but a way of being. I started noticing how I hosted conversations, how I mediated conflict in my personal life, and how I designed experiences for others. It all pointed toward the same impulse: to create connection and clarity.

Finding My Way Back Through Stories

When I look back on that season of interviewing women for Slick Chick, I see now that I was cultivating the same muscles facilitators use: holding space, listening deeply, letting the narrative unfold on its own terms. I wasn’t designing workshops back then, but I was definitely designing spaces for reflection and insight. And most importantly, I was allowing people to discover their own answers, something I now know is central to great facilitation.

Around the same time, I interviewed Reshma, who would later become my peer and my prompt for joining the Voltage Control community. Her story, like many others, was about resilience—but there was something in our dialogue that stayed with me. We stayed in touch loosely over the years. Our paths kept crossing—in Nairobi, while camping, over dog walks and shared fires. And each time, there was a moment of recognition, of resonance. I was drawn not only to her work, but to the way she carried herself with groundedness and intention.

It wasn’t until August 2024, sitting around a campfire in Kenya, that I finally asked her: “Should I do this? Would facilitation certification be worth it for me?” Her answer was grounded and generous. She explained what it had unlocked for her, how it had sharpened her thinking, broadened her tools, and expanded her network. I left that conversation curious. The kind of curious that wakes you up at 3 AM in Dubai to join a discovery call. That call, hosted by Kat and Skye, sealed it. Something in the way they facilitated the session confirmed what I had suspected: this wasn’t just another training. It was a community, a mindset, a way of being. I signed up shortly after.

The memory of that call still lingers. The calm energy, the intentional design, the shared excitement in the room—it was all a preview of what was to come. And I knew, without a doubt, that I was ready to say yes.

Over the Campfire, a Commitment

Deciding to join Voltage Control wasn’t about a career pivot. I already had my own firm. I was already training and designing learning experiences. What I was looking for was something deeper: coherence, connection, a more intentional way to make the impact I knew was possible. I wanted the kind of structure that would not only introduce me to new tools but also help me situate what I already knew in a broader context.

There’s so much out there—Miro, MURAL, Jamboard—and I often felt overwhelmed trying to piece it all together. I wanted a place to go where I could ground myself in best practices, get honest feedback, and explore new ways of thinking. I didn’t realize at the time how validating it would feel to finally say, “Yes, I am a facilitator.” I had been doing it for years, but until then, I didn’t own it.

What the certification offered me wasn’t just new knowledge—it was a mirror. It reflected back all the moments in my career when I had been facilitating without realizing it. It helped me connect the dots between instinct and intention, between action and language.

Designed for Discovery

The certification experience was like being dropped into a well-designed ecosystem. Everything—from the pairings to the electives—was crafted with intentionality. I loved how we weren’t just paired once and left to it; we were encouraged to cross-connect, to reach out, to explore beyond our assigned groups. I’m naturally curious, so this was a dream for me. Maybe it’s the multicultural in me—the part that’s always been fascinated by difference, dialogue, and design—but I found the cross-pollination of ideas in the cohort deeply energizing. And the best part? Everyone else was just as curious and committed to growth.

The foundation in The Art of Gathering deeply resonated. I’ve always been someone who thinks in terms of intention, but now I have the  vocabulary to articulate it professionally. I have begun using the word “purpose” more fluently in my sessions and felt more confident introducing those kinds of conversations—even in spaces where people might’ve once rolled their eyes at the word “intention.” Now, I can frame it in a way that’s both accessible and powerful.

I also found the electives incredibly useful. I completed the Workshop Design elective and have the Narratives of Future Design on my summer to-do list. Just hearing Eric walk through those frameworks made me feel seen. There was no top-down delivery. It was modeling, guiding, inviting—just as it should be. The asynchronous structure gave me space to go deep, and I often found myself rewatching sections, taking notes, and thinking about how to apply the ideas in real-time with clients.

And the cohort—what a powerful mix. People navigating NGO policy shifts, internal change, personal transformation. One of my pairings was with a pastor, Connie, and the way she wove facilitation into her spiritual work was deeply inspiring. Those conversations made me realize facilitation isn’t a title—it’s a way of showing up. It’s about asking better questions, listening for what’s unsaid, and creating space for emergence.

A Return to Play

Since completing certification, I’ve noticed two big shifts. First, I’m having way more fun. Designing workshops, talking to clients, selecting tools—it all feels like play again. I feel a bit like a kid in a sandbox, rediscovering joy through experimentation. There’s a renewed energy in how I work. Even things that used to feel routine—like onboarding or preparing a deck—now feel like opportunities to be creative.

Second, I’m much more aware of the role I play in the room. Not in a performative sense, but in the quiet way a facilitator can hold space and shape outcomes. I’ve come to appreciate that this role carries power—not the loud kind, but the kind that makes real change possible when wielded thoughtfully. I now walk into spaces more centered, more grounded in the belief that transformation doesn’t require spectacle. It requires presence.

Feedback from clients has reflected that shift. One recently described me as “free-spirited and effective.” That meant a lot, because it affirmed that my authentic self was shining through—something I hadn’t always felt permission to bring into the room. I also notice how much more confident I feel navigating difficult conversations or moments of silence. Before, I might have rushed to fill the gap. Now, I understand the power of pause.

It’s also spilled into parenting. My daughter is homeschooled, and I now find myself weaving facilitation techniques into how I guide her learning. It’s subtle, but impactful. It’s making me a better mom. We reflect more. We ask questions instead of jumping to answers. She’s even started using the word “process” when talking about how she learns, which makes me smile.

Building the Table

As someone shaped by many cultures, I know that diverse rooms create deeper conversations. I want to help build spaces where that kind of global, nuanced dialogue becomes the norm, not the exception.

The future I’m envisioning is full of collaboration. I want to continue building a pool of facilitators who can design and lead workshops with integrity and purpose. Not just in leadership or communication, but in areas like sustainability, personal growth, and social change. My dream is to host a series of gatherings where people from across disciplines can come together, learn from each other, and co-create new ways forward.

It doesn’t have to be huge. It can start with a single workshop that helps someone replace “feedback” with “feedforward.” That’s a change. That’s a win. If someone leaves the room feeling more confident, more clear, more connected—that’s impact. And those ripples matter.

I’m also committed to spreading these tools to younger generations. If my daughter can learn to hold space, to ask better questions, to lead with empathy—that’s legacy. I want her to know that power isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room. It’s about creating a room where everyone feels heard.

If you’re considering certification, here’s my advice: come with the right intention. Because if you do, this work will feel like a superpower. It has magic in it—if you let it. It won’t just change how you work. It will change how you live. It will give you new lenses, new language, and new tools—but more than that, it will give you a deeper sense of purpose.

It did for me. And it still does, every single day.

The post Holding Space, Finding Self appeared first on Voltage Control.

I guess you could say my path to facilitation was far from obvious. My journey began in the world of industrial design—physical products, beautiful materials, craftsmanship. I studied at Central Saint Martins in London, one of the most prestigious design schools in Europe. Back then, I was designing high-end objects like lighters and fountain pens. One of my first breakout projects was for ST Dupont, a French company known for their opulent lighters. I designed a piece called Diva—a lighter that offered a flame in the palm of your hand as a gesture of elegance and openness. It was theatrical. Poetic. And it got me noticed by the Comite Colbert, an association that includes heritage houses like Hermes.

Saint Martins opened many doors. It’s a place that lives at the intersection of art, fashion, and design—and it builds those bridges actively. I was surrounded by people who would go on to define what design meant in our generation. Alumni from the college include people like Alexander McQueen and other cultural pioneers. But even within that buzz, I always felt slightly out of sync with the end users of the products I was making. I didn’t smoke. I didn’t collect luxury pens. The objects I created were beautiful, yes—but they didn’t speak to my own values.

That lack of connection eventually pulled me away from luxury goods and toward something more utilitarian: product innovation. I joined Untapped Innovation as an associate, an inspiring consultancy born out of the Procter & Gamble tradition, working on fast-moving consumer goods. It was a different world—less about ego, more about process. And for the first time, I saw design being used not just to beautify, but to solve real problems.

At Untapped, I was supporting clients on the kinds of innovation cycles that couldn’t afford to fail slowly. These were products that needed to hit market targets fast. I saw design being embedded into R&D cultures—teams using storytelling frameworks like The Hero’s Journey to envision and test ideas. This was a different flavor of creativity, one that was deeply tied to facilitation. That realization pulled me into a new kind of inquiry. What if the magic wasn’t in the object, but in how we created space for people to explore and invent together? Though I didn’t call it that at the time, what I saw was design in service of unlocking thinking and a new journey had begun.

It deepened when I joined Makerversity, a creative incubator in London. I started overhearing conversations about design sprints, and that led me to Jake Knapp’s book. Suddenly, I had language for explaining human-centered design  that until then had felt intuitive but hard to articulate. I was working with hardware startups at the time, running sprints that let them move from insight to testable prototype in a week. It felt like magic.

Makerversity was something special—a post-university creative ecosystem, full of fellow Central Saint Martins, Royal College of Art and Goldsmiths grads. We were all building and learning together. One day I heard someone on the phone quoting sprint fees and thought, “Wait, you can get paid to do that?” It clicked. I started facilitating sprints for physical products, and it felt like everything I had learned as a designer could now serve people more directly.

But then came a pivot. I joined Innovate UK Business Connect (formerly Knowledge Transfer Network) a public innovation agency in the UK. I was brought in  to help set up their first in-house innovation studio. Then the pandemic hit. Workshops, conferences, and events—everything that was supposed to be our bread and butter—came to a halt. Our team had to adapt, fast. We started running sessions on how to design and facilitate virtual workshops. At first, it was a bit rogue. We didn’t even call it design thinking. But it worked. We created peer-to-peer learning ecosystems using tools like Mural and quietly built a network of change agents inside the organization.

We were helping civil servants become better collaborators, even if they didn’t know it yet. We avoided buzzwords. We just said, “Want help making your next virtual session better?” It was facilitation in disguise. Over time, the executive team started to notice. They gave us their blessing—and eventually their support. We began to tell “agents of change” stories, celebrating internal facilitators who were designing better experiences for their colleagues.

I didn’t realize it right away, but I was facilitating. And I was good at it. Eventually, I left London with my partner, sold the floating home we’d been living on, and began a new chapter in the rural south of Italy. We visited 20 potential towns, sleeping in a converted SUV, before finding a place that felt right. We now live off-grid among shepherds and olive trees. It’s beautiful. But I missed that connection with my community of practice.

That’s when I found Voltage Control. I remember tuning into a Practice Playground and thinking, “These people care.” It was a different vibe—not competitive, not performative, just deeply committed. That energy pulled me in. I started volunteering to run the Facilitation Lab Europe sessions. And I knew I had found my tribe.

Rehearsing Confidence, Rebuilding Purpose

After about six months of running the lab, I started to feel like I was the bottleneck. I didn’t always feel entitled to lead sessions for facilitators who were far more seasoned than me. I wanted to learn from them, yes—but I also wanted to give something back. And I realized that to do that, I needed more confidence and structure.

That’s when the idea of certification took root. Not because I needed another credential, but because I wanted to treat myself to a period of focused development—a time to rediscover my purpose, like I had done back in design school. I had pivoted from industrial design to change work, and this felt like the missing bridge.

I think of it like returning to studio time. A protected space to try things, reflect, and deepen my craft. Except this time, the material wasn’t foam core or acrylic. It was people. Conversations. Collaboration. That’s what I was learning to shape.

Voltage Control had already earned my trust. I’d been around the community long enough to know it wasn’t just talk. You could feel the integrity. And with a bit of help from the team, I enrolled.

A Community That Practices What It Preaches

The certification wasn’t full of checklists and corporate templates. It was something else entirely. What struck me most was the peer learning. Somehow, this program self-selects for growth-minded humans. Many of us came from corporate roles, but no one was there to tick a box. We were all there to grow.

I especially connected with Kate Wing, a cohort mate from California who works in ocean conservation. We came from opposite worlds, but our energy was aligned. We were both treating this as a gift to ourselves. Her passion and wisdom helped me trust my own voice.

The program also helped me access something I now call my equanimity hack. I discovered a simple mental shift that brings me back to balance in moments of stress: “I’m here to serve you.” That small mantra changed the way I carry myself . I use it constantly.

Turning Points and Use Cases

Another unexpected gift was the portfolio work. As a designer, I was no stranger to portfolios, but this was different. It helped me clarify the use cases for my facilitation practice: strategic alignment for leadership transitions, strategy enablement for large organizations, and cross-industry innovation for resilient supply chains.

I realized my superpower is helping organizations access their own resilience. That insight had been sitting under the surface, and the portfolio process helped me name it.

I restructured my entire website around this. I now organize my offerings not just by service, but by scenario. New CEO onboarding? I’ve done that. Multi-team strategy enablement? Got a toolkit for it. Industry transformation where traditional players need to collaborate across silos? Let’s talk. It’s been grounding.

Working from the Inside Out

One of the most rewarding experiences I’ve had since certification has been with a company I supported through a leadership transition. The outgoing CEO trusted me enough to introduce me to the incoming leader. That referral carried so much weight. It said: this person can help you. He helped me. That’s gold.

My role? Helping them bring 400 people along a new direction of travel. Facilitating not just strategy, but alignment. Making sure change isn’t something that slows them down, but something that propels them forward. They don’t have a C-suite designer, but they’ve trusted me to help them become more adaptive. That feels like meaningful work.

What Comes Next Is Already Happening

I’m currently collaborating with a research group at Princeton University, helping with alignment and teamwork as they prepare to launch a new book and website. It’s bringing me closer to the world of education in a hands-on way—and I’m finding it genuinely engaging.

During a recent business trip in London, a contact from my past reached out—someone who’s just taken a senior role at a prestigious university. He asked if I do lecturing. I said I offer experiential learning. That conversation sparked something new: the idea of taking on a formal role in education alongside my consulting work.

Education feels like a natural extension of what I’m already doing. Helping people organise their thinking, collaborate better, and communicate with clarity—that’s facilitation. But it’s also teaching. As I step further into that space, it feels like the pieces are aligning. It’s still early, but it feels right.

Give It Time, It Gives Back

If you’re considering certification, my advice is simple: Make time for it. Don’t let the effort scare you. It’s an investment in yourself, and it pays dividends. You get back more than you put in—but only if you commit fully . Really bring your whole self to it . Because the community will meet you there.

And when it does, it might just change how you see yourself—not as someone who leads change, but as someone who makes it possible for others to step in, shape it, and carry it forward.

The post From Luxury Design to Design for Change appeared first on Voltage Control.

I never set out to become a facilitator. In fact, I didn’t even know what the word meant. What I did know was that something about our workshops could be better. For years, my partner Mauricio and I had been delivering leadership trainings through our company, EXEC Consulting LLC. These were classic content-forward sessions: structured, informative, but mostly one-directional. 

We’d spent years honing a program that consistently delivered value. Mauricio had built something people returned to again and again—and for good reason. But as we continued delivering it, I started to feel a gentle pull. I wondered if we could bring more participation into the room. Moments of interaction—brief partner shares, space for reflection—seemed to energize people in ways that surprised me. It wasn’t that anything was wrong, but I sensed we were only scratching the surface of what was possible.

I remember delivering a session for the Center for Internationalization in the Piedmont region of Italy. We’d go there once or twice a year to run the same program. Over time, I began to see a pattern: whenever we included a moment of self-reflection or encouraged participants to share insights with a partner, the room came alive. It was subtle at first. A ripple of energy. More smiles. Eye contact. Curiosity. I could see how those moments—however brief—led to deeper engagement.

My own experience of running the same workshop over and over again—especially in Piedmont—became a mirror. I could see when the room was leaning in and when it was leaning back. I started to track the energy not just by what people said, but how they said it, how quickly they came alive in the partner shares, how they lingered afterward. Even without knowing the word, I had started to develop the instincts of a facilitator. I was tuning into what the room needed—not just what I planned to deliver.

The First Containers

That realization pulled me into a new kind of inquiry. What if the magic wasn’t in the content, but in how we created space for it? What if the work was less about giving answers and more about surfacing what was already there? I didn’t yet know the word for what I was feeling, but the search had begun.

And maybe more than anything, I was noticing my own excitement. These participatory moments didn’t just energize the room—they energized me. After dozens of repetitions, it was those interactions that made the sessions feel fresh. The unknown of what someone might share, the little sparks of vulnerability and humor—they reminded me that learning could feel alive. That was the beginning of something shifting in me, even if I didn’t yet know where it was going.

Looking back, I think facilitation first found me long before I had language for it. At Girl Scout camp, in the way we sang songs and followed rituals that created a sense of belonging. Later, at yoga retreats where a teacher guided us into self-awareness with care. Even in college, studying U.S. history through the lens of civil rights at Reed College, I was already asking the kinds of questions that facilitation now helps me hold: Who has a voice? What structures create trust? How do we build spaces for honest dialogue?

So when I look back now, those threads were always there. But it was in 2018 or 2019—watching the impact of small participatory shifts in our trainings—that the pattern began to crystallize. I knew I needed to find more of whatever that was.

Following the Curiosity

My path into facilitation wasn’t dramatic; it was more like a breadcrumb trail. I started Googling. Looking for ways to make workshops more participatory. Somewhere along the way, I stumbled into a Voltage Control Facilitation Lab meetup. I figured I’d lurk in the background, camera off. Instead, I got paired in a breakout room and asked a deep, personal question right away. I was surprised. And energized. There was no back row here.

I quickly discovered that facilitation was a field, a practice, even a craft. And there were names I hadn’t heard before—like Priya Parker, whose book “The Art of Gathering” blew open something in me. Mauricio had mentioned her after hearing her on a podcast, and reading her work became a turning point. I realized that meaningful gatherings were more than logistics; they were opportunities for transformation.

Around the same time, the world was erupting in protest over George Floyd’s murder. I joined more Voltage Control sessions and was struck by how space was held to process racial injustice. It wasn’t performative. It was real. And it made me realize that facilitation could be a civic tool as much as a professional one.

I also started to realize how much of facilitation was about how we gather—not just what we do when we’re there. That resonated with earlier parts of my life: Girl Scout camp, where rituals helped us feel like a team. Slumber parties, where connection happened in the small hours. And especially my first yoga retreat, where a guide gently invited us to reflect, breathe, notice. All of these memories felt like breadcrumbs leading back to the power of intentional space-making.

The more I learned, the more I wanted to learn. I started reaching out to others in the community for virtual coffee chats. Everyone said yes. They shared their experiences generously, and I found myself growing through these one-on-one connections. It became clear that this wasn’t just a new skill. It was a new way of being.

A Clear Yes

When the opportunity came to join the certification program, it felt obvious. I had already gained so much from the free resources and community that saying yes to going deeper was easy. Of course I reflected on the time and financial commitment, but in the end, I knew it would give me the structure and grounding I needed.

I didn’t talk to anyone about it. I just signed up. It felt like an investment in a part of me that was just beginning to find its voice. I had this image of who I might become if I said yes to that voice. I knew it would be work. I had plenty of internal doubts—would I really follow through? Did I belong in this room? But deeper than the fear was the curiosity. That tug that had pulled me into my first breakout room now pulled me into something more lasting. I said yes.

I was hungry to learn. I knew I needed more than tools—I needed formation. I wanted to go from absorbing content to confidently facilitating the space where learning happens. Certification was my next right step.

Finding My Voice Again

One of the most meaningful parts of the certification experience was the coaching I received from Erik. He saw me. I don’t say that lightly. His message was simple, but it landed deeply: Don’t conform. Your uniqueness is your strength. That gave me permission to lean into the authentic version of facilitation that only I could offer.

That message stuck with me, especially because I’d noticed a pattern in myself. I often started things with originality and excitement—law school, college, even this facilitation journey—but somewhere along the way I’d begin to conform, to fit myself into the mold of what I thought “professional” looked like. With Erik’s support, I gave myself permission not to do that this time. To stay weird. To stay me.

The portfolio was another major moment. It forced me to reflect on where facilitation was already showing up in my life—from a racial justice book club I launched, to a fitness class I led, to the flow channel exercise I added to our workshops in Italy. Writing the portfolio helped me claim the title of facilitator, even if my work didn’t look like anyone else’s. That was powerful.

Naming my brand as 3D Wellness—emotional, physical, and social well-being—came out of that process. It was something I’d never have thought to do without the push to articulate my philosophy. That naming wasn’t just a marketing exercise—it was a moment of personal clarity. It said: This is what I care about. This is what I want to build. And I’ve been using that framework ever since, in everything from movement workshops to community dinners.

Owning My Practice

Since certification, I’ve been stretching. I brought new games and interactive elements to our Piedmont trainings. I facilitated a Dance & Discover event with cultural learning and community connection. I co-led a strategic gathering for a coalition of Texas nonprofits—an emotionally intense experience that tested and affirmed my capacity to hold space for vulnerability and trust-building.

That nonprofit gathering in Austin stands out. It was deeply emotional. We had to pivot mid-session to address a lack of trust in the room that hadn’t been disclosed beforehand. I used a listening circle format and invited participants to share openly, uninterrupted. Then, inspired by an exercise from the Voltage Control summit, I asked them to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, silently look each other in the eyes, and internally say either “I trust this person” or “I want to trust this person.” It was raw. Beautiful. People cried. The room shifted. That’s when I understood just how powerful this work can be.

I’m also proud of what I’ve helped build through Dance & Discover. Even though I’ve only run a few events, they’ve become expressions of who I am as a facilitator. We dance. We reflect. We learn a little about the culture the dance emerged from. We connect. It’s joy, movement, and meaning all in one. And watching people stick around afterward—reluctant to leave—that’s when I know we created something real.

Most recently, I facilitated a half-day workshop on trust for a high-tech team in Orlando. It was a pivotal moment. I used Triz (“reverse thinking”) to help them identify trust-breaking behaviors, a trust equation to demystify the concept, and peer coaching to close with connection and empathy. Watching them choose to be anonymously evaluated by their peers was a powerful testament to how much we had built together in just a few hours.

A New Chapter Emerging

This work is expanding. Slowly, but beautifully. Mauricio now sees the value facilitation brings to our clients. After witnessing the Orlando session, he’s ready to integrate more of this approach into our offerings at EXEC. That alignment means the door is open to do more of what I love, inside the business we’ve built together.

We’re keeping a cadence—not because of demand or dollars, but because we want to. It’s low stakes, high purpose. And I’m seeing the impact it has not only on participants but on me. Each gathering adds another layer of confidence. Another opportunity to try something new. To be bold. To co-create something meaningful. And every time we do it, I feel more aligned with the kind of facilitator—and human—I want to be.

Being of Service

Looking ahead, I see myself fully stepping into leadership—in corporate rooms and intimate circles alike. I want to facilitate for teams that are ready to become more self-aware and take shared responsibility for the cultures they’re co-creating. When one-on-one coaching can’t address the whole picture, facilitation is the missing piece. It surfaces group dynamics, builds empathy, and unlocks new pathways forward.

That’s the opportunity I see for organizations: to use facilitation not just to solve problems, but to evolve their culture. In Orlando, I coached five people individually before the team workshop. I saw how facilitation could bring those isolated insights into a collective awakening. One-on-one coaching had given them language. Group facilitation gave them shared understanding. That’s the magic of pairing the two. Self-awareness, self-responsibility, and empathy—they all emerged naturally through the process.

I would tell anyone considering the certification this: if you want to be part of a learning community where you are seen, supported, and called forth into your potential, Voltage Control is the place. This isn’t just a training program. It’s the first step into a much larger journey. One where you get to become more of who you really are—and help others do the same.

The facilitation journey isn’t always linear. It requires trust—trust in yourself, in the process, in the people in the room. Voltage Control helped me build that trust. Not just by giving me tools, but by showing me what it feels like to be part of a brave, generous, and visionary community. That’s what makes the difference.

The post Trusting the Path appeared first on Voltage Control.

I didn’t know it at the time, but my facilitation journey began in high school, in Hawaii, on a campus that actively championed student voice. I was a senior at Parker School, a creative, independent school nestled on the Big Island, and the year I was there, they brought in an outside organization to establish a peer counseling program. You had to apply or interview, and it was one of those things my friends dragged me into. “Come on, it’ll be fun,” they said. I had no idea that retreat would shape the rest of my life.

They trained us with an immersive, three-day self-reflection experience, and then flipped the script: we were tasked with recreating the retreat for younger students from our school and our rival across town. The activities were all rooted in trust, vulnerability, and breaking down social barriers. I was originally drawn to the idea of being the retreat DJ—that sounded like fun. But the adults leading the program had other plans. They asked me to take on a lead facilitator role. I didn’t realize it then, but that was the first time someone saw in me what I hadn’t yet seen in myself.

At the time, I was balancing sports like outrigger canoeing and soccer, while diving deep into performing arts—dance, theater, gymnastics. (Yes, I played Nurse Ratched in “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” and still have the cheeky T-shirt to prove it.) It was a chaotic, rich high school experience, and that retreat opened a new door. We ran two-day sessions with younger students. They cried, they laughed, they shared openly. That was my first taste of how powerful a container facilitation could be. I wouldn’t learn the term “facilitation” until years later, but the seed was planted.

I went on to UCSD for undergrad, drawn by family ties and childhood summers in San Diego. I started as a theater major, switched to writing for something more versatile, and fell into educational therapy by chance—working for a mentor who blended special education and marriage/family therapy in her private practice. That job led me back to grad school at USD for my own degree in Marriage and Family Therapy, and it was there I started to notice something: students opened up more with an algebra book between us than across a counseling table. That was a lightbulb moment.

From there, I went on to help launch and scale schools with Fusion Education Group, including the first replication high school in West LA. As VP of Education, I built programming and trained staff, always anchoring in human connection and emotional safety. I loved the work. I also felt wildly underqualified at first, so I went back to school again for a Doctorate in Leadership. My learning kept bringing me  back to the value of deep listening, storytelling, and emotional intelligence. That whole time, I was building my facilitation practice without realizing it.

Realizing Facilitation Was the Thread

The discovery of facilitation as a discipline hit me years later, after I joined Change Enthusiasm Global. Cassandra Worthy, our founder, insisted that if I was going to lead and grow our facilitation team, I needed to go through Voltage Control’s Facilitation Certification. I’m so glad she did. I hadn’t realized there was this entire world—a community, even a methodology—dedicated to facilitation. I was floored.

Here I was, someone who’d spent her entire adult life in teaching, coaching, and leadership, and I had no idea that facilitation had its own language and rigor. What struck me immediately was how familiar it all felt, and yet how new. It was like discovering a well-organized vocabulary for instincts and moves I’d been making my whole life. That was both affirming and exciting.

It reminded me of my reaction when I first encountered Brené Brown’s work. Her concept of vulnerability put words to what we had been doing at Fusion all along: prioritizing relationships, seeing students as whole people, making connection the first step in learning. It was the same with Voltage Control. Suddenly, there was a framework to help me teach and support facilitators more effectively.

And it wasn’t just theory. When I looked back at those high school retreats, I could now see the trust-building, the emotional storytelling, the circle processes, the norms being co-created. I could put names to what we were doing. I realized that moment in my teens was not just formative—it was foundational.

Packaging What I Already Knew (And Didn’t Know)

I had a lot of “oh wow” moments during the certification. One of my favorites was the module on handling resistance in a group. It was so well-articulated. I’ve always believed that when someone resists, they’re usually feeling disconnected—from the group, the material, or themselves. And our instinct is often to shut them down or avoid them. The training reminded me that the real magic happens when we pull them closer instead.

The portfolio piece was also surprisingly impactful. I had heard from one of our more experienced facilitators that it hadn’t resonated with her—and I understood that perspective. But I decided to make it work for me. I used it to tell the story of my journey into CEG, reflecting on the concept of “novice” and how we often do our best work at the beginning and end of a career arc. That act of storytelling gave me clarity about where I was and where I wanted to grow.

More than anything, the certification reframed facilitation not just as a skill, but as a craft. And it gave me a language to talk about it with others, especially our facilitators who are doing powerful work but sometimes lack that cohesive narrative around it.

Designing Impact at Scale

Lately, I’ve been obsessed with one big question: How do we scale intimacy?

At Change Enthusiasm Global, we’re being asked to create experiences not just for rooms of 20 or 50 people, but for hundreds. We recently followed one of Cassandra’s keynotes with a learning session for 400 people—though I’m pretty sure it was more like 600 by the time we ran out of materials. We pulled it off. But it required an entirely different level of orchestration.

We created moments of drama. Everyone got streamers and the collective movement created a sea of energetic color. We manipulated lighting to create emotion. Our facilitators told personal stories under spotlights. People cried. People laughed. They hugged. That’s how we knew it worked.

The secret weapon? A rockstar producer. I’ve learned that producing is just as important as facilitating, especially at scale. The producer created the conditions—lighting cues, music, timing—that amplified our work. We couldn’t have done it without him. I want to carry that insight forward and ensure we keep building our facilitation practice with production in mind. That’s the next frontier for us: building emotionally resonant, large-scale experiences that still feel human and connected.

Where I’m Headed Now

This work is a confluence of everything I’ve done—from theater and therapy to education and coaching. And now, I’m looking at ways to build experiences that touch thousands while still feeling personal.

We want to take Change Enthusiasm to people at scale—ballrooms, stadiums even—and I’m working on how to preserve that feeling of a small, brave space no matter how big the room is. I’m also excited about building our Change Enthusiasm Global community and developing internal systems so our facilitators have the tools to replicate and scale the energy our brand promises.

I feel incredibly lucky. Every major opportunity in my life has come through a blend of curiosity, connection, and serendipity. But now I’m starting to see the strategy in that, too. Facilitation has always been the through line. Now it’s the framework.

I think everyone, regardless of where they are in their facilitation journey, has something to gain from the Voltage Control certification. There’s a humility in returning to the role of learner. It makes you sharper, more curious. And the community you join by doing so is invaluable.

But the real gift? Learning to let go. Learning to trust that your job isn’t to say everything, but to create the conditions where the right things can emerge. You’ll never cover every bullet point. And that’s okay. What matters is what they discover, remember, how they felt, and what they carry with them. Get good enough to let go of control and trust the process and the group. That’s the craft. And Voltage Control helps you find it.

The post My Journey with Facilitation appeared first on Voltage Control.

When I think back to the moment that changed everything, it was a day-long design thinking workshop at Cisco. Our new director announced it almost casually, and I remember thinking, “Wait, what is this? A meeting that lasts a whole day?” I was curious, but skeptical. Then I walked into the room. Flip charts. Sticky notes. Music playing. Bright colors and warm welcomes. Nothing like the grey, boxy meeting rooms I was used to. That shift in space and energy felt like stepping into a different world.

We weren’t just talking about customer experience; we were creating solutions in real time. Ideas were flying. People were energized. We went from asking big questions to building real ideas together. It was the first time I felt every part of my brain switch on, both the analytical and the creative. After that session, I walked straight up to my director, Vivasvan Shastri,who we affectionately called Vivaand said, ‘I want to do more of this.’ He didn’t hesitate. Viva was the kind of leader who believed in experimentation and empowering his team. He invited me to shadow him in future workshops, and that’s where my journey as a facilitator truly began.

He told me he was facilitating these sessions himself and welcomed me to shadow him. That was the beginning. I didn’t know it was called “facilitation” at the time. I just knew I loved it. Even when I wasn’t getting paid for these sessions, even if it meant late nights or working with teams I’d never met, I said yes. For six years, I said yes again and again.

Even during the height of COVID, we found ways to recreate the magic virtually,using Webex to design breakouts and maintain connection. I kept learning and growing, and somewhere along the way, I realized this wasn’t just a hobby. This was me discovering who I really was.

What struck me most was how facilitation disrupted the rigid hierarchies I was used to in corporate life. It created a horizontal space where ideas mattered more than titles, where collaboration felt authentic. It was a world where creativity had a seat at the table, and everyone had a voice. That contrast made me realize just how powerful these spaces could be,and how much more alive I felt in them. It wasn’t just a better way to work. It was a better way to be.

Building Creative Culture in Bangalore and Beyond

Back then, I was based in Bangalore, working in Cisco’s customer experience team as part of professional services. I’d started as a network consulting engineer,. Once I got hooked on design thinking, I became one of the founding members of an internal Design Thinking Club. Whenever someone needed a session, they called us.

We ran training programs for aspiring leaders, facilitated strategy alignment workshops, and brought design thinking into the core learning path for technical architects. It started with four or five of us, and then more junior team members started joining in. We taught them how to facilitate, how to bring others into this new way of working. I had no idea facilitation could be a full career.I just knew it was something I couldn’t stop doing.

Eventually, I moved to Cisco’s Poland office. That meant starting over. Nobody was doing this work there yet, which actually became my opportunity. I introduced the idea with a simple Design Thinking 101 workshop for my team. Then I pitched it to others-the innovation lead, people who were curious. Word spread. Folks from across Cisco remembered me from my Bangalore days and reached out. Viva, my mentor, even connected me with people in the Poland office. It all came together.

We started doing innovation challenges, hackathons, even design sprints for Cisco partner companies. These weren’t giant corporations.They were small startups with raw ideas. They needed structure, speed, and support. That’s when I really fell in love with the process. Helping people go from vague ideas to tangible solutions in a matter of days? That felt like magic.

A Leap into the Sea

After three years in Poland, my husband and I decided to move to the Netherlands. I tried for over a year to make that relocation happen internally within Cisco. I did stretch assignments, shadowing programs and everything I could think of to show initiative. But the timing wasn’t right. Between the war in Ukraine and the economic downturn, things stalled.

I started to question everything. I had always identified as a “corporate person.” Was I really ready to walk away? And if I did, what would I do? I loved innovation and facilitation, but could I build a career around that? That messy middle forced me to go deep.

Through research, I discovered that facilitation is not just a skill,it’s a profession. That lit a fire. I’d been facilitating for years, but never formally trained in it. I knew I needed to invest in myself. I came across an article comparing facilitation programs. It had all the details: cost, curriculum, who it was for. That’s how I found Voltage Control.

I applied for the certification and joined the community hub. Almost immediately, Lina welcomed me. Within minutes, I was invited to a volunteer call, where I met Robin. She said, “The best way to learn is to jump in.” So I did. I asked, “Is there a community here for independent facilitators?” She said, “No, but you can start it.”

Jumping In, Building Together

That conversation with Robin was the beginning of our independent facilitator community. I reached out to Adriana, who I had met at a Facilitation Lab Practice Playground. I said, “Want to co-lead this with me?” She said yes immediately. Our energies clicked right away, and soon we were co-hosting our first huddle.

At first, I wasn’t sure if I was ready. I remember saying to Robin, “Can I really lead something like this? I just joined the community.” But she encouraged me wholeheartedly. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “You’ll have all the support you need. If you’d like a co-lead, we’ll help you find one.” That kind of trust and encouragement,before I’d even proven anythingwas incredible. It made me feel like I belonged.

Adriana and I got on a call to brainstorm what this community could be. I shared my vision for a space where independent facilitators could lean on each other, share resources, and talk about the challenges that come with building a practice solo. She was equally excited, and we got aligned quickly. It was clear that we were creating something we both wished we had earlier in our journey.

When we posted about launching the community, the response was overwhelming. I think it was the most engaged post I’d seen in the hub. So many independent facilitators needed support. They needed connection. And here we were, building it together. That was the moment I realized Voltage Control wasn’t just a certification program. It was a real, living community,one that empowers you to lead even before you feel “ready.”

Confidence Through Clarity

When I first considered the certification, I hesitated. It was a big investment, and I wasn’t used to paying for training out of pocket. I reached out to Jamie and asked if I could speak with the instructors. Erik got on a call with me, and I had 30 minutes before I needed to catch a bus. But just 15 minutes into the call, I made up my mind.. He listened. He understood. He didn’t try to sell me. He simply saw me.

That same night, I enrolled.

From the very first week, it felt like going back to school. Books, readings, rich conversations. I devoured The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker and started posting weekly reflections on LinkedIn,something I never thought I’d do. The cohort was incredibly diverse, which opened my eyes to how facilitation shows up across cultures and disciplines. Conflict resolution, DEI, design thinking and so many more..

Working on my portfolio helped me clarify my purpose. What kind of clients do I want to serve? What kind of work gives me energy? The portfolio became the foundation for my website and outreach strategy. And the coaching calls with Eric were everything. He didn’t give generic advice. He helped me find my path.

Holding Space That Transforms

Since completing the certification, I’ve facilitated several projects. But one stands out.

Adriana and I hosted a Women’s Day workshop. Our goal was to create a safe space where women could share their fears, challenges, and hopes. What happened in that session moved me deeply. Women shared stories of job loss, personal injury, and two years of unemployment. They felt seen. They connected.

One woman realized she was obsessing over job hunting not because it was her real priority, but because she thought it should be. Through the session, she saw that her health and personal goals were where she wanted to focus. That insight changed everything for her. As facilitators, we carry a responsibility to hold space for transformation. That day, I felt it fully.

Designing What’s Next

Right now, I’m exploring the Foundation Sprint framework recently shared by Jake Knapp. I’m passionate about helping early-stage startups navigate ambiguity and bring ideas to life. I’ve used the sprint process for my own business and seen how clarifying it can be.

My focus is now on working with founders and product teams,people who are creating something new and need help getting out of their heads and into collaboration. I plan to partner with founder meetups and startup hubs to bring this work to more people.

If you’re considering the certification, don’t wait. Just go for it. Especially if you’re thinking about a career change, this can be your foundation. It gave me the confidence to leave corporate life and step into my role as an independent facilitator. It’s not just about learning tools,it’s about discovering your purpose and stepping into it with clarity and support.

This isn’t just a program. It’s a turning point.

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The Internet Was My First Gathering Place

I found the internet in the ‘90s, before most of my friends had even heard of it. Back then, mIRC was my portal out of a small town in New Brunswick, Canada, and into late-night chats with people across the United States, Europe, Australia, and South America.

The internet felt particularly experimental and generous at that time. A university professor once helped me with a high school physics problem simply because I asked. A stranger even sent me a free plane ticket to meet someone I’d connected with online. That person is now my partner of 27 years.

It wasn’t seamless or fast, but these early experiences with online connections reshaped how I understood geography and relationships. It sparked a quiet knowing that technology could shrink distance and make space for something deeply human.

Experimenting My Way into Strategy

Once I entered the workforce, no one really knew what to do with the internet, so I became the unofficial digital explorer. “Here’s the corporate website. Figure it out,” someone would say. And I did. That era gave me room to try, mess up, and try again. I moved between agency, government, and nonprofit projects before landing in travel.

That’s where the threads started to weave tighter. I managed digital programs, built intranets, maintained web forums, and designed marketing campaigns and virtual trainings long before those were common terms. I even created the first virtual social media marketing course for travel pros. But the tech was never the point. What lit me up was the way it nudged people closer. Across silos. Across time zones. Across the awkward starts.

Whether I helped older professionals learn digital skills or crafted pathways for quiet contributors to speak up, I was quietly engineering moments of momentum and ease. I just didn’t have a label for it yet.

Finding Language for the Work

My background was in communications and PR. Once tech entered the mix, I started looking through a different lens. What kind of experience am I shaping here? How does this interaction feel in someone’s body? What is this allowing that wasn’t possible before?

When I started my own business in 2011, clients would say, “I’ve made connections I never expected, and our approach feels so much more powerful than what others are telling me to do.” The pattern repeated so often, it became hard to ignore.

Most people think of facilitation as something formal or tied to events, like a brainstorm session, a retreat, or a post-it-filled workshop. But I realized I had already been facilitating in smaller, more integrated ways: noticing group dynamics, helping people move from uncertainty to alignment, designing conversations that made it easier to show up and contribute. Facilitation, to me, became less about a single role and more about how I create momentum and meaning in a space, especially inside organizations and communities navigating complexity.

But I didn’t call it facilitation. It simply felt like creating good conditions: shaping interactions, softening the hard edges of tech so people could show up more fully, and gently guiding participation to make people feel seen. It wasn’t until I found Voltage Control and its certification program that I realized this thing I’d been doing for years had a name. And even better, it had tools, people, and the language I’d been craving without realizing it.

At the time, I was feeling untethered. My partner had been laid off. I was recovering from a long illness. I wasn’t working much. But this opportunity landed in my periphery, and my gut kept nudging me to it. I applied, received a scholarship, and followed the quiet pull.

Recognizing My Place in the Room

The certification wasn’t just a course. It was a mirror. I walked in feeling like an outsider, scanning the Zoom grid and wondering if I belonged. Everyone seemed so confident, so sharp. I was nervous, but I wanted to learn. So I stayed.

One of the most meaningful parts was meeting Laura Pasternak from MarketPoint, my partner in month one. We clicked immediately and still speak regularly. She saw what I was working toward before I could name it and gently reflected it. She helped me recognize things I hadn’t fully seen in myself and reminded me I didn’t have to figure it all out alone.

And then came the portfolio. I wasn’t sure I had enough to show. But once I started going through my past work, I saw how much I’d done and who it had reached. I looked back at the communities I’d supported: social workers advocating for better mental health access, seniors using art for wellbeing, women building confidence around money, women navigating grief, and entrepreneurs funding innovation for good. I realized this work had been building for years. The portfolio didn’t just document that. It helped me finally see it.

Turning Intuition Into Practice

What the program gave me, more than anything, was vocabulary and structure. I finally understood the difference between divergent and convergent thinking. I saw that I was strong in the divergent phase, especially when it came to exploring and generating ideas. But convergence was where I needed tools.

Once I had that language, I started to see what was and wasn’t working in my client engagements. I started experimenting. I tried new exercises, frameworks, and ways of structuring sessions. It felt like picking up a new set of paintbrushes. The first few tries were rough, but I could feel things starting to take shape.

Then the right work started to land. Within a few weeks, I signed several new clients, including two large member-based organizations. This was exactly the kind of work I’d been hoping for. I made half my annual income in just two weeks. More importantly, I got to apply everything I’d just learned in real time, with people who were ready to dig in.

Halfway through a recent session, a participant paused and said, “It’s been such a valuable experience to be shepherded through this conversation. It helped me see things differently and recognize where we can make different choices to create a more meaningful impact.” I learned later she’d been one of the most hesitant to attend.

That moment made it clear I wasn’t just leading sessions. I was helping people feel safe enough to show up fully. It was a reminder that small shifts in how we gather can open the door to real change.

Getting Clear on Where I Belong

Working on my portfolio and with Laura helped me see what was already in front of me. Member-based organizations had been part of my client mix for a while, but I hadn’t named them as a focus. They gave me the strongest feedback, the clearest outcomes, and the kind of challenges I wanted to solve.

That realization helped me shift my focus. I still work with small teams, but more of my energy now goes toward facilitation-rich engagements with member organizations.

That might look like co-designing a member experience roadmap, facilitating discovery workshops to understand what people want, or supporting internal teams as they define what engagement and belonging should look like moving forward. In many cases, I’m helping member-based organizations move from assumptions to insights, and from insight to action. It’s not just about creating one good gathering or platform. It’s about designing a whole system that encourages trust, relevance, and participation.

And I’ve started naming the thing I do correctly. I’m a facilitator. It’s not just how I work. It’s how I think.

How I Talk About My Work Has Changed

Lately, I’ve been getting more specific about how I talk about my work. I’m building on what I’ve always done, now with language and tools that help me do it more effectively. After each session, I pause to reflect on what worked and what could shift for next time.

I’m learning how to design sessions that feel grounded and collaborative, not performative. The clients I’m working with now are often mission-driven and values-aligned, and the conversations we’re having feel more relevant and focused. Best of all, I get to help them reconnect with their communities in new, genuine, and valuable ways.

I help these organizations step back and see the full picture, from the member experience to the internal processes that support it. Sometimes that means mapping the journey a member takes, clarifying what belonging looks like, or facilitating cross-functional sessions to align the team around shared priorities. Other times, it’s about identifying simple, strategic shifts that make the community feel more alive and intentional. At the core of it all, I help them design a human-first experience that feels more meaningful, but also drives stronger engagement and sustainable membership growth.

Helping Teams Design More Human Experiences

Much of my work centers around three key areas. I support membership experience and engagement by helping teams develop new ways to activate participation and increase member satisfaction. I focus on membership value by shaping offers that feel relevant and worth showing up for. And I design and lead listening efforts like focus groups, interviews, and co-creation sessions to uncover member needs, test ideas, and guide smarter decisions.

This work isn’t just about improving programs or running online forums. It’s about helping organizations reconnect with the people they serve, realign around what matters, and create experiences that feel thoughtful, relevant, and genuinely worth being part of. When teams take the time to listen, reflect, and realign, engagement feels more natural, decisions come with more confidence, and members begin to recognize themselves in the experience. 

This clarity didn’t come from starting over. It came from finally seeing the shape of the work I’d been doing all along.

An Invitation to See Your Work Differently

If you’re considering the facilitation certification, let yourself follow the nudge. It might stretch parts of you that you didn’t expect. But stretch is where evolution lives. The program isn’t just a toolkit. It’s a mirror and a reset. A reintroduction to work that may already feel familiar.

And if you’re wondering whether you’re already a facilitator, you probably are. You don’t need to start from scratch. You just need to recognize what’s already there and keep building from it.

Sophie Bujold is a facilitator and community strategist who helps membership-based organizations design more human, connected experiences. She works with teams to uncover what their members truly need, rethink how participation happens, and design programs that spark connection and momentum. You can learn more at cliqueworthy.com.

The post Seeing My Work More Clearly appeared first on Voltage Control.

Finding my calling

My mom was my first facilitator, though I didn’t realize it at the time. Growing up in Thornhill, a suburb of Toronto, I watched her lead community meetings, organize fundraisers, and champion local causes like getting our neighborhood school built. I vividly recall being 8 years old and volunteering at our local Terry Fox Run, which she organized. I was always inspired by how she effortlessly brought people together around a common cause. Those early experiences taught me that you need to put yourself out there to make change happen,a lesson that has stayed with me.

Early Steps into Leadership

In high school, I gravitated toward student leadership roles and experiences, including bringing together students from different schools to build skills and connect. At the time, I didn’t use the term “facilitation,” but that’s precisely what I was doing: guiding conversations, building community, and fostering engagement among peers. These experiences gave me a profound sense of agency and confidence, setting the stage for my path ahead.

When I reflect back, I realize the seeds of facilitation were planted deeply by my family’s culture of coaching and curiosity. Interestingly, both my parents chose to pursue coaching certifications in their early 50s, training at CTI in California before anyone I knew was trained as a coach. Watching them embrace these career shifts inspired my own confidence in continuous learning. I also got exposed to a lot of “powerful questions” in our house!

My passion for collaboration and leadership continued to grow during my university years at UNC Chapel Hill, where I pursued a double major in political science and communication studies. This academic path was deliberate, reflecting my deep interest in understanding how communication shapes leadership and organizational dynamics. Throughout my time there, I actively sought opportunities to practice facilitation, even without consciously labeling it as such.

Shaping a Career in Facilitation

After graduation, my journey took me to Goldman Sachs in New York City, where my role in coordinating training programs allowed me to observe and engage with professional facilitators firsthand. Watching these seasoned experts bring rooms alive with powerful, impactful conversations was mesmerizing. I clearly remember thinking, “This is it—this is what I want to do.” 

Though my role at the bank didn’t initially include facilitation, the exposure I had was transformative. My responsibility involved hiring facilitators for various initiatives, including women’s leadership events and diversity training programs. Through observing these sessions, I began to understand facilitation as not just managing group dynamics, but as a deeply strategic tool capable of driving organizational change. The facilitators I admired most were those who balanced structure with flexibility, confidently steering difficult discussions with empathy and insight.

Following four enriching years at Goldman Sachs, I sought to blend my passion for training and organizational development with a desire to make a social impact. This pursuit led me to Harvard Business School(HBS) where I earned my MBA while taking as many electives as I could on non-profit management and social enterprise. This academic journey broadened my understanding of strategic leadership and further clarified my ambition to combine my facilitation skills with meaningful, social impact work.

My time at HBS was particularly challenging but immensely rewarding. I hadn’t previously taken business classes, so initially, it felt like drinking from a firehose. However, as I started to connect the dots between what I was learning and ways I could apply it in the non-profit sector, I became more engaged and curious. Throughout the cases we read, leaders that understood people dynamics and effective communication strategies always fared better.  Participating in and facilitating group projects during that period taught me important lessons about collaboration, influence, and how to facilitate diverse groups.

Upon returning to Canada, I was hired to help get the PricewaterhouseCoopers’ Canada Foundation off the ground.  As a part of that role, I developed a network of what we called “Foundation Champions” that helped to choose grant recipients, assemble volunteer teams and encourage non profit board engagement.  My role included facilitating regular meetings of this group and keeping them motivated and excited about the work of the Foundation.  I was always proud that our main granting program was funds for non profit leaders to engage in professional development (money that is hard to get in the social impact world!).  This also gave me a good window into the development needs of leaders.  This experience inspired me to venture out independently as a facilitator and leadership coach, determined to leverage these skills to support nonprofit leaders in their individual and organizational development journeys.

Stepping Into a New World of Possibilities

After a dozen years of doing this exciting and stimulating work, I decided that I wanted to hone my facilitation skills. While I had relied heavily on a structured methodology for strategy development, I was being called to facilitate increasingly complex conversations, often with challenging group dynamics.  I also wanted to position myself to engage in the facilitation of collective work in the sector, which is needed now more than ever. This realization coincided perfectly with my colleague and friend Rebecca Sutherns’ recommendation of Voltage Control. Rebecca, a facilitator I deeply respect, described Voltage Control simply as “the best,” and trusting her judgment, I decided to not only sign up, but to recruit a close friend and talented facilitator, Tammy Shubat, to join me.  Having a partner on the journey, who also understood the non profit sector landscape and needs in Canada certainly enriched the experience.  

Participating in the Voltage Control program was like stepping into a vibrant new world full of possibilities. Immediately, I appreciated the seamless integration and innovative use of digital tools like Mural, which helped take my virtual facilitation skills to the next level. Observing Eric and Douglas expertly guide us through sessions was profoundly instructive. Their calm yet authoritative approach, combined with genuine curiosity and openness, was a true masterclass in the art of facilitation and holding space.

Purpose Changed Everything

One of the program’s greatest impacts came from exploring Priya Parker’s “The Art of Gathering.” This exploration shifted my facilitation approach by embedding the critical importance of defining clear purpose into every interaction. Instead of allowing my clients to settle for vague objectives like “board retreat” or “leadership meeting,” I now actively guide them to articulate a specific, powerful purpose of the meeting,  increasing the quality and depth of the conversations I facilitate. Another highlight was revisiting and rediscovering Liberating Structures. Exercises such as “15% Solutions,” “1,2,4,8” and “Ecocycle Planning” quickly became essential components of my toolkit. These methodologies help energize discussions, inspire creativity, and unlock fresh perspectives among teams. Particularly impactful was the concept of the “groan zone,” a framework emphasizing the value of divergence in group discussions. This encouraged me to create intentional space for bold, unconventional ideas, greatly enriching the collaborative process.

Bringing Facilitation into Strategic Leadership

Voltage Control did not just equip me with new tools—it empowered me to step more confidently into a leadership posture in my facilitation. Previously, I leaned into what I saw as the integrity of the neutral role of facilitator. However, this certification invited me to see facilitation itself as a powerful form of leadership, enabling me to guide organizations effectively through complexity towards significant, lasting impact.

Since completing the program, I’ve confidently undertaken more ambitious facilitation projects, including with boards and leadership teams at several national organizations. I have also been called on to train leaders in strategy and strategic facilitation and have drawn on Voltage Control exercises like the “Deflection Point” to help them navigate strategic crossroads and imagine bigger, bolder futures. 

Charting a New Path Forward

Today, I am deliberately shifting my practice toward addressing larger, collective challenges within the nonprofit sector. Rounding out my work as a strategic coach and consultant on organizational strategy, I’m increasingly drawn to projects involving multiple stakeholders. My goal is to foster collaboration across sectors, bringing together funders, nonprofits, academics and communities to tackle critical social issues collaboratively. By creating meaningful, inclusive spaces for dialogue and innovation, I aim to drive deeper, systemic change.

Though this path presents unique challenges, requiring intensive focus, deep commitment, and intentional relationship-building, the potential rewards are immense. Being recognized as a facilitation expert allows me to significantly influence important social outcomes, transcending traditional organizational boundaries and creating a broader, deeper impact.

Looking ahead, I’m excited about the continued evolution of my practice, deeply informed by purpose and supported by the vibrant Voltage Control community and its wealth of resources.

For anyone considering Voltage Control’s Facilitation Certification, my message is clear: Do it. This program will significantly expand your perspectives, enhance your facilitation capabilities, and connect you with an incredible community dedicated to continual learning and improvement. It truly is the gift that keeps giving.

The post Finding My Voice in Facilitation appeared first on Voltage Control.

Finding my calling

Facilitation has been in the center of my professional journey since discovering it during my time as a student at Hyper Island. It was there that I first experienced the transformative power of facilitation, a career path that I was previously unaware of, but has given me a rich professional as well as personal life. 

Before joining Hyper Island, I intended to continue my career in advertising with a focus on digital strategy. I had previously completed a bachelor’s in business administration and marketing, and after that landed my first job at an advertising agency in Canada. During my first week at Hyper Island, I experienced my first facilitated workshops. This experience made a huge impression on me. Instead of wanting to be the person with the best idea, I became interested in how I could help groups come up with better ideas together. I saw a huge potential in using facilitation as a tool to help groups solve complex problems together, especially in the context of the digital transformation that was happening at the time, and that I had witnessed firsthand working in advertising as new digital media was being adopted. 

During the remaining part of the Digital Media program at Hyper Island, I continued to explore facilitation, workshop design, and design thinking. For my internship, I got the opportunity to go to Buenos Aires to participate in the development of a new innovation incubator created by Mondelez to support innovation in the area of marketing. This was a great opportunity to use what I had learned at Hyper Island, as I got to use the facilitation and design thinking skills I had acquired to help create innovative solutions in advertising that leverage new technology and media. 

During the following years of my career I leveraged facilitation and human-centered design in helping advertising agencies adapt to new ways of collaborating and solving problems in response to the digital transformation of communications. Facilitation became both a personal journey and a profession, as I spent over a decade working with organizations to teach and implement these critical skills. I had the opportunity to work with advertising agencies, marketing departments, schools, and startups, facilitating everything from one-day learning experiences and workshops to longer programs lasting years to enable sustainable change. 

After a few years in Buenos Aires, I met the founders of Mural and gladly decided to join their team to help enable remote collaboration for teams globally through their digital whiteboard. With my previous experience in facilitation, workshop and learning experience design and facilitation, together with my international background, mostly for in-person contexts, this was a great chance to apply and develop my skills to the digital space. My work with Mural was a turning point, enabling me to explore and refine facilitation practices specifically designed for remote and hybrid environments. I dived into the nuances of synchronous and asynchronous collaboration, helping teams overcome the unique challenges of working across time zones, tools, and physical boundaries. These experiences not only broadened my skills but also deepened my appreciation for the evolving nature of facilitation along with new technology.

During this time, I also had the opportunity to collaborate with Publicitarias, a foundation that seeks to encourage female participation and leadership in agencies, as well as inform and educate about the influence that communication has on gender equality. Together with Publicitarias, I developed workshops and tools to enable teams to create more inclusive content. We created a package that anyone could use to facilitate conversations on the topic with their team, as well as evaluate and brainstorm ideas. This experience once again proved the transformative power of facilitation, and through developing these tools, we were able to enable the Publicitarias community to become change agents in their own contexts. The tool was also co-created together with the community, a process that I also got to facilitate. This also opened me up to the possibilities of using facilitation tools and techniques on a larger scale to achieve a bigger impact and involve whole communities. 

Maturing as a facilitator

Still, the more I learned, the more I realized how much there was yet to discover. With more than 10 years of experience in facilitation, and as I began to receive opportunities to lead more intricate and complex projects, I felt the need to validate and update my skills further. I had also grown into facilitation as my professional role and felt more sure than ever that the path I’m on is the right one. Certification became a natural next step, not just as a proof of professional validation but also as an opportunity to grow, connect, and contribute to a broader community of facilitators.

Choosing the certification program with Voltage Control felt like the perfect fit. My history with the organization, dating back to my time at Mural, had already left a strong impression. The weekly Facilitation Lab with Douglas and Eric became a space for me where I had a chance to meet and learn from other experienced facilitators. The environment was very friendly yet challenging, which offered the right mix of safety and motivation to keep improving my craft. Through Mural, I also had the opportunity to collaborate with Douglas on webinars, workshops, and the creation of templates to enable others to facilitate better meetings and workshops. I was very inspired by their professional approach, broad knowledge of methods and techniques, and their constant reinvention of methods that make every experience feel inspiring and fresh. The Voltage Control team and community had been there for many years during my career as a source for co-creation, collaboration, learning and inspiration. So, when I was laid off from Mural and received an invitation to join the program, it felt like a moment of alignment. I was ready to relaunch my career, refine my skills, and rediscover my unique voice as a facilitator.

Immersing myself in the program: A journey of growth

The certification program was a transformative three-month journey, allowing enough time for reflection, hands-on work, and reading in between facilitated community learning sessions. The sessions provided an opportunity to reflect and discuss insights and learnings together as a group from books we read during the program, such as The Art of Gathering and Gamestorming. Even if these books have been part of my toolkit for many years, discussing them with others allowed me to deepen my understanding and uncover new insights. Additionally, reading and discussing The Facilitator’s Guide to Participatory Decision-Making gave me practical tools for managing difficult situations. We also did exercises that allowed us to practice certain techniques and skills from the books together.

One of the highlights was building my facilitation portfolio and working in pairs with other participants during the course. This process was both retrospective and introspective, allowing me to reflect on my experiences and articulate my strengths. Receiving feedback from peers was invaluable; it provided new perspectives and helped me develop my identity as a facilitator. Supporting other participants with their portfolios gave me new perspectives, and it was also a way to get to know each other quickly. 

Another aspect of the course that was very valuable to me was taking turns facilitating activities. Facilitating a group of seasoned professionals, followed by constructive feedback, was a unique and deeply enriching experience. The community-based learning fostered an environment of shared growth. Facilitating and sharing in front of experienced professionals pushed me out of my comfort zone. While this added pressure, it also underscored the value of their feedback. Having access to a group of professional facilitators, with their high expectations, is a powerful source of learning and improvement.

One particularly memorable moment was the final presentation. Watching everyone confidently present their identities as facilitators was one of the most inspiring moments of the course. The program’s duration allowed genuine transformation to take place, and the mutual support among participants made the journey even more meaningful. 

The personal coaching sessions with Erik provided tailored feedback and expert insights that significantly impacted my development. Throughout the program, he generously shared stories and learnings from his own career, both in group sessions and one-on-one coaching. I found the individual coaching especially valuable in identifying areas for growth, refining my voice, and defining my identity as a facilitator. This personal support complemented the group sessions, where we learned from each other while also focusing on our unique development needs.

Developing my superpower

Through the program, I rediscovered my superpower: the ability to create safe and respectful environments where people feel free to express themselves. This not only reaffirmed my passion for facilitation but also underscored the importance of continually learning and growing. Intuition and communication are essential, but having self-awareness and a robust toolkit of techniques and approaches makes it easier to navigate any situation.

Putting skills into practice

Since completing the certification, I’ve already begun applying what I learned in various ways. My role as Community Lead at Howspace has provided the perfect opportunity to implement these skills. I’ve designed workshops that address complex challenges for senior learning and transformation leaders. Feedback from participants has been overwhelmingly positive and they especially appreciate the professional yet relaxed environment and feel empowered to share openly.

Facilitating and moderating workshops with senior leaders presented both an exciting opportunity and a unique challenge. Their time is valuable, and each session had to be carefully designed to ensure it provided meaningful takeaways. Additionally, being significantly younger than most participants, I needed the confidence to guide discussions with authority while maintaining a humble and open approach. The skills I gained from Voltage Control prepared me for this, allowing me to create engaging, high-impact experiences where leaders felt heard, challenged, and inspired.

Building a thriving community requires more than just gathering people; it demands the creation of shared experiences that provide real value. To keep sessions dynamic and engaging, I drew from the broad range of facilitation techniques I had mastered. Each meeting included time for structured team-building, giving members the opportunity to connect on a deeper level and build trust. Without this, open and honest discussions wouldn’t have been possible, the true value of the community came from learning from each other. At the same time, the workshops needed to be results-driven. The workshop design techniques I had refined through the Voltage Control program allowed me to skillfully guide groups from complex challenges to actionable solutions within the limited hours available.

Moderating discussions with experts on transformation was another critical aspect of my role. Having practiced my own facilitation and communication skills in the program, I felt prepared to lead these conversations in an inclusive, professional, and structured way, ensuring all voices were heard while keeping discussions on track. At the same time, adapting to a new digital collaboration platform, Howspace, introduced another layer of complexity. Unlike the freeform nature of the Mural whiteboard, Howspace provided a more structured environment that leveraged AI for real-time synthesis. While it required a shift in approach, it also enabled a new way of facilitating at scale, accelerating decision-making, and fostering meaningful participation in ways I hadn’t explored before.

Another notable application was in my work as a facilitator and learning experience designer for #TechElevateHER, a four month long program created by Tik Tok and Geek Girl Meetup for young women from the Nordics. I designed diverse learning experiences, balancing online and offline, synchronous and asynchronous sessions. During the spring we travelled to all the Nordic capitals with the program to deliver weekend-long hybrid and in-person workshops, and in-between we hosted interactive sessions online. The feedback I received highlighted the strong sense of community my team-building and reflection activities fostered, proving that facilitation can deeply impact group dynamics.

One of the most impactful moments of my work with #TechElevateHER was facilitating team-building exercises on the very first day. We wanted the program to do more than just prepare participants for careers in tech through lectures, workshops, and mentorship, we wanted it to be the foundation of a strong, supportive network of women who could uplift each other long after the program ended. To set the right tone, I designed a mix of activities that encouraged them to relax, play, and connect. We started with movement-based exercises to shake off any nerves, followed by creative tasks including drawing, which brought laughter and eased participants into a more open mindset. One of the most effective activities was having them create their own icebreaker questions, giving them ownership over how they got to know one another. By the end of the program, many participants reflected that these initial sessions played a crucial role in helping them bond, making them feel comfortable enough to support and learn from one another throughout the journey.

Beyond the in-person sessions, I also designed online collaborative learning experiences to keep engagement high between physical meetings. While the participants were digital natives, many had little experience using corporate collaboration platforms, so I needed to create an experience that was intuitive, engaging, and meaningful. Since the program took place on weekends and many participants were juggling studies or running their own businesses, the online component had to feel like a natural extension of their learning rather than an added burden. My time in the Voltage Control program proved invaluable here, as I had learned from other facilitators about the challenges and solutions they had encountered in creating engaging experiences. Drawing from those insights, I crafted interactive, easy-to-navigate sessions that kept participants motivated, ensuring they stayed connected and continued learning between in-person gatherings.

Looking ahead: Ambitions and aspirations

This certification has given me the confidence to tackle larger, more complex projects and organizations. I feel better equipped to facilitate in challenging situations and to work with diverse groups, regardless of age, industry, or culture.

Looking to the future, I am eager to continue exploring how facilitation can enhance collaborative peer-to-peer and community learning, drive organizational change, and improve collaboration in hybrid work settings. I am particularly drawn to creating more human-centered work experiences and helping organizations adopt new mental models for transformation.

A journey of growth

Looking back on this experience, I am grateful for the encouragement I received during the program to follow my passion. The connections I made with my portfolio partners and the broader community were unexpected yet invaluable outcomes. Having a network to share my facilitation journey with, people to learn from, seek advice from, and offer support to, has been more than I expected to gain from the course.

The program made me feel confident to take on more complex and sensitive initiatives involving many stakeholders. I feel eager to work both as an independent consultant or as part of a team, helping organizations develop facilitative leadership capabilities, improve the way they work and collaborate, or solve challenges. I see opportunities to guide organizations through transformation, support them in building better ways of working, and create environments where participation and shared decision-making lead to meaningful change. With the skills I’ve gained, I feel more prepared to design and facilitate sessions that respect the time and expertise of senior leaders while ensuring productive and valuable outcomes.

In the coming years, I want to continue exploring how to support organizations in becoming learning organizations, building their change capabilities, strengthening facilitative leadership, and managing conflicts effectively. Facilitation has just started to become part of the mainstream conversation. It is increasingly becoming an in-house skill and is recognized as an essential leadership skill. In this context I also feel great responsibility of making sure my skills are up to date and that I’m facilitating in an ethical and safe way, another reason why pursuing a certification is important. As they state in The Facilitator’s Guide to Participatory Decision-Making, it takes decades for a social innovation to truly become embedded. Facilitation can be supported by AI, especially to support diversity and inclusivity, but facilitation skills such as holding space for difficult conversations and disagreements can’t be replaced. 

The Voltage Control community has been a great support system in this journey. I still check in with the people I met in the course, and they help remind me of what I’ve learned and reconnect me with my purpose. When I face facilitation challenges, I know I can always turn to this network for insights and encouragement. It’s also been valuable to have a group of peers to collaborate with or refer opportunities to when projects fall outside my expertise. Looking ahead, I want to continue growing, learning, and contributing to the evolution of facilitation as a key capability for the future of work.

Erik and Douglas deserve special mention for their exceptional facilitation. Their expertise, guidance, and encouragement were fundamental in shaping this transformative journey.

This certification was more than a professional milestone; it was a deeply personal journey of growth, discovery, and connection. I am excited to continue leveraging these experiences to create meaningful, impactful facilitation opportunities in the future. For anyone curious about facilitation, my advice is simple: dive in, connect with others, and embrace the growth process. Certification is just one step, but it’s a powerful one.ture of our communities. And trust me, we need as many people as possible stepping into that space.

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