People arrive to our events often seeking connection, new and deeper friendships, and eventually become part of a community.

They usually don’t have the words to say that they are searching for an experience with a level of vulnerability that also feels safe.

They are searching to be known for who they are without being exposed more than they can handle.

This is normal, healthy and a big reason the role of the host is essential.

Walking onto a school campus between MIT and Harvard can feel intimidating before you even step out of the car.

Parents drive into the center of an academic universe and wonder whether they will find connection or simply get snobbed out.

Schools often expect families to navigate unfamiliar spaces and new faces with little guidance, and this can leave even confident parents unsure whether they’re really welcomed.

Dr. Jennifer Price, Head of School at Buckingham Browne & Nichols, sees this daily.
Students come from over 80 Massachusetts towns.
Forty-eight percent of families identify as families or students of color.
This means every event includes people whose lived experiences differ widely.
And even in a warm community, diverse environments can create uncertainty.

Leaders often “hope and gather.”
We bring people into a room, offer food, and trust (hope) that connection appears on its own.
Hope is not a real strategy here.
People are deeply supported with clear invitations, guidance, and structures that make participating with authentic enthusiasm easy.  We should give them these.

Every community carries stories.
Some are spoken aloud often. Others only come up on special occasions.  They all shape a community culture even if you don’t notice it.

When someone new visits, curious about whether you might be their person, they listen carefully even if they don’t realize it.
They listen for the values in the story.
They want to know what you think is important enough to share, celebrate, pass on, and emulate.

I train leaders to create spaces where people grow connection and admiration.
I’ve spent much time with people who want deeper trust and meaningful shared experiences.
I see how easily and how much devices weaken these experiences.
This happens even when no one touches a phone.

Many people wonder how digital gatherings make a difference in their communities.
Leaders ask whether online spaces can generate the depth they hope to create.
These questions grow stronger when there is widespread reliance on digital experiences.

Leadership maturity includes being willing to flex, to experiment, to be wrong, and to try again.
It asks us to measure ourselves not by how consistent we are but by how responsive we can be to the people and contexts we serve.

Communities that last keep these shared actions that make time feel meaningful.
Whether it is welcoming new members, celebrating milestones, or grieving losses, rituals help us say, We see what is changing. 

Community grows resilience not by how many people we can reach. Resilience grows by how deeply we connect with admiration and trust with those we can know.

When we prioritize community, we create environments, or venues, where people feel comfortable to give their best generously.  They stop calculating every choice through a cost-benefit calculation.

How do new members learn they have truly arrived in your community?
What symbols or tokens currently acknowledge someone's commitment to participate and contribute?
Do people leave your initiation process feeling genuinely welcomed and recognized?
What simple changes could create clearer transitions from visitor to insider?

In this conversation with Madeleine Hewitt, Executive Director of the Near East South Asia Council of Overseas Schools (NESA), we explore how intentional design transforms discomfort into comfort and how that shift helps people truly belong.

When boundaries exist, someone must tend to them.
This is where gatekeepers help.
Gatekeepers are not villains or power-hungry guards.
They are trusted members who protect the community’s integrity and help others find their place.

People say no to invitations because they have something important to do.
This can include taking care of a child, finishing a critical project, or simply resting after a stressful week.
When someone declines our invitation, we’ve still given them something valuable: proof that we want to be more connected to them.

Something important was brought to my attention  after years of exploring how communities form and thrive.
So, this year I developed Military Family Events Guidelines.

It is a tool with a framework that recognizes the particular challenges military families face when seeking genuine supportive connections.
The guidelines are available as a free resource at https://www.charlesvogl.com/downloads because the lessons can transform how many approach bringing military families together.
Let me share a bit about the lessons learned.

In Art of Community, I identified three success patterns to recognize when people gather around shared values and common goals.
Each pattern creates a very different community experience..

Despite organizations spending thousands of dollars on venues, catering, and elaborate planning, I witness what I call a "gather and hope" strategy: the regrettable assumption that simply putting people in the same room (with drinks and music too)  automatically creates the connections and culture we aspire to.

Inner rings, when designed with intention and care, create communities where wisdom flows naturally from experienced members to newcomers. They provide clear indicators of progress and belonging. They create aspirational pathways that motivate deeper engagement. Most importantly, they honor both the human need for inclusion and the equally human desire for meaningful progression.

Grab your free copy of the School Community Events Guidelines at https://www.charlesvogl.com/downloads, the complete framework that's helping schools nationwide grow stronger communities through better gatherings.

How do intimate experiences that we call "campfire experiences" scale up to create connectedness across larger associations, organizations, or bigger?

Let's discuss how these small private moments are fundamental building blocks for a larger community. They're not an wholly separate investment when connecting large groups, organizations, or a culture.

There's something quietly profound happening when a child returns from summer camp, their backpack heavy with badges and handmade crafts. Those simple-looking objects carry importance far beyond their physical size. They are tokens, symbols that bridge experience and memory, as well as important moments and ongoing relationships.

When I work with communities struggling to attract new members or maintain engagement, I've often enough discovered they're telling yesterday's stories to today's people.