There is a moment—quiet, almost imperceptible—when you realize you’ve crossed a threshold. Not into a building or a place, but into something more visceral. A return, not just to where you came from, but to something inside yourself that remembers who you were before the forgetting began. That’s the feeling of embodied nostalgia. That moment is what I call homecoming.
So often we are taught that home is a destination. A structure with walls and a roof. A geographical location to punch into GPS. But the truth is, many of us have never truly felt at home, even in the houses where we grew up. Home becomes elusive—something we chase through relationships, achievements, external validation—only to find it slipping further away the more tightly we grip.
But home is not out there. It never was.
It lives in the ache of your bones when you sit with your grief long enough to hear its wisdom. It hums in the belly when you laugh from that deep, guttural place that only comes when you are fully seen. It whispers in the rustle of trees, in the slow exhale of horses, in the way the earth remembers your footsteps even when you’ve forgotten your path.
To come home is not to arrive somewhere new—it is to unearth what was always within you. It is a radical act of remembering. Of belonging to yourself again. And in that belonging, something sacred is restored. The fragmentation begins to knit itself back together, not through force or urgency, but through presence and permission.
At The HERD Institute®, this process of homecoming is not solitary. It is held within community—an intentional, heart-led space where your truth is not only welcomed, but witnessed. Where your story is met with compassion, and your voice is heard without needing to be explained. Over and over again, we see how healing happens in connection—not just with each other, but with the land, the horses, and the parts of ourselves we’ve long forgotten.
It’s why we’ve chosen Coming Home to the HERD as the theme for our conference next year. Because this work—this life—isn’t just about learning or doing. It’s about being. And being together. It’s about returning to the core of who we are, in the presence of others who are doing the same. It’s about coming home—not only to yourself, but to the HERD.
Our next conference is more than a gathering—it’s a milestone. Coming Home to the HERD will mark the 10th anniversary of The HERD Institute®, and we’re returning to where it all began: Columbus, Ohio. There’s something deeply meaningful to me about coming full circle. The roots were planted there. The vision took shape there. And now, a decade later, we are returning—not as who we were, but as who we’ve become.
In my own journey, and in the journeys I am privileged to witness, homecoming often begins with disorientation. I didn’t want to move to Ohio. When we arrived, I felt lost, untethered, as if the map we were given no longer made sense. I mourned the loss of my community in Northern Virginia and struggled to find my bearings in my new landscape. But perhaps that disorientation is the first sign we’re on the right path. Perhaps getting lost is how we begin to find our way—through the forest of our doubts, the terrain of our traumas, the winding roads of our own becoming.
When we stop trying to return to who we should be and start remembering who we are, something shifts. The body relaxes. The heart softens. The stories we’ve told ourselves start to unravel, and in their place, a deeper truth emerges.
Homecoming is not a one-time event. It is a continual unfolding. A practice. A promise. And sometimes, it’s found in the quiet moments between words, or in the steady presence of another being who holds space without asking you to be anything other than exactly who you are right now.
That’s the thing about home—it doesn’t demand. It welcomes.
And when you finally arrive, breathless and raw, it says, we’ve been waiting for you.
We can’t wait to welcome you. Save the date: July 10-12, 2026 and watch this space for more information to come!