Most of us have stood on both sides of the circle—welcomed in, and quietly left out.
We’ve belonged.
And we’ve wondered why we didn’t.
Sometimes we’re the one drawn in—invited, included, remembered. Other times, we’re the one orbiting the edges, trying not to care, pretending we didn’t notice. Most of us have been both. More than once.
Being “in” or “out” isn’t a fixed identity. It’s not a moral failing or a measure of worth. It’s not even always intentional. Often, it’s just systemic. Shaped by timing, history, proximity, and design. We don’t mean to form tight rings that leave others outside. But we do. Not because we’re cruel—because we’re human. And because this is what we were shown.
The ache of not belonging isn’t new. But neither is the part of us that longs to undo it.
There is a kind of space between women that most of us have only known in flashes—brief, rare, often accidental. A glance that says I see you instead of Where do you fit? A silence that feels safe, not awkward. A moment where no one is performing. No one is competing to be the favorite. No one is holding the map to belonging while others are left guessing at the route.
What if that space could be designed on purpose?
That’s what we’re doing here.
HearthFire isn’t just a gathering. It’s not a soft escape from the world—it’s a living practice of building a new one.
A few weeks ago, I shared a three-part series on the science behind the fire—what anthropology, neuroscience, and psychology reveal about why gathering around fire feels like coming home. Why firelight softens our nervous systems. Why circles create safety. Why presence without performance lets us breathe again.
“HearthFire is not a soft escape from the world—it’s a living practice of building a new one.”
But knowing all that is only the beginning.
This is where we begin to practice—
not just being together, but being together differently.
We slow down. We take our time. No one is rushed, and no one is expected to perform. We speak when we're ready, and we listen with care.
We don’t just go around the circle—we carry one another, gently, for a little while.
And we don’t gather to be impressive.
We gather to be real.
To be held.
To be honest.
To exhale.
And yes—you are welcome here.
Whether you’ve been before or are quietly wondering if it’s time, this is your invitation. You don’t need the right words. You don’t need to be sure. Just come as you are. The circle will meet you.
We’ve all been outside the firelight.
We’ve all been held within it.
Now, we practice something different.
It’s not new. But it is rare. And it’s worth practicing.
With warmth,
Laura
Founding Hearthkeeper
come back to the fire
P.S. Our first fall circle—Return—is just days away. We’ll gather this Saturday, September 20, around the fire. If your heart has been nudging you, this is your sign.
You can read more or request a seat here:
👉 thehearthfire.co
No performance. No pressure.
Just firelight, stillness, and the quiet presence of other women remembering what it means to truly belong.