01/11/2026
Several years ago, while traveling in India and on one of our final mornings at an Ayurvedic health center, I woke just before sunrise and made my way to the beach for a chance to watch the local fishermen bring in their nets from the night before. As the sun began to rise, the steady bobbing glow of the lights from their boats started to fade and gave way to the hazy horizon cast in pastel pinks and purples and blues. The little skiffs started to make their way to shore. Crows gathered around, cawing their orders, anticipating a scavenge. Villagers merged along the lapping waters, preparing to pull in the massive nets. Off of one skiff, a fisherman threw rope ashore as others waded in calf-deep water to grab the rope. One-by-one, they lined up in position to take hold of the rope and begin the effort of pulling the fish-heavy net to shore –like a game of tug between man and the sea. With an orchestration that appeared so natural and known, the men began the coordinated pull of the rope…with a heave forward and pull back, leaning their bodies back and pulling in sync. The net was successfully pulled onto the sand, fish flopping about with the transition from sea to land. Villagers gathered around, crouching down to start pulling apart the netting, large colorful plastic baskets in tow, assessing their bounty, picking through and separating out the fish –the catch that would feed this village. A small group of men started to reorganize the ropes while others worked together to drag the boat back to its resting spot on the beach.
When I think of community, this memory often comes to mind: this natural coming together, a ritual of connection and rhythmic collective effort –each person with a role, all an important part of nourishing and sustaining their families, their community as a whole.
In our modern world, I sometimes feel we can be far removed from the sort of connection and community we as humans so innately need. We often hear the saying, “it takes a village.” But what does that village look like now? What does it mean? And how can we find our way back to that collective care as if it’s as natural as breathing air?
