Our collective vision for a good life in community is simple: we deserve to be seen as valued contributors to our communities. This shift requires moving away from systems that focus on deficits and towards environments that actively cultivate belonging, acceptance and mutual support.
Below, lived experience writer Nicola shares her journey from disconnection to finding her place in a community that recognised her gifts. Her story beautifully illustrates the three core principles of our Good Life Vision in action.
A Village that Remembers Who You Are by Nicola-Jane le Breton
How recognising gifts can help communities become places of true belonging
There was a time, in my twenties, when I felt as though I was walking two feet behind myself, watching life happen to other people, unable to find my place in it. For nearly three decades I lived with chronic depression, social anxiety and the effects of complex trauma. Mostly, I could function – hold down work, raise children, even look happy on the outside – but inside there was a hollow ache… a deep sense of disconnection from the world around me
I’ve had many wonderful therapists, teachers and health practitioners over the years who’ve supported my healing journey, but what made the biggest difference to my wellbeing was finding my place in the community.
In my early forties, when I was living in Denmark – a little coastal town in Menang Bibbulmun country in the southwest of WA – something began to shift. Denmark is the kind of place where people still stop to talk to you in the street, where the ocean and forest are part of your daily rhythm, and where the community, for all its quirks, began to hold me in ways I’d never known before.
It began with joining a TAFE writing course, starting a community writing circle and eventually offering creative writing classes from home. These were intimate spaces where people could drop their masks and share the stories that mattered most to them. We’d gather in my lounge room, nestled into a circle of second-hand couches and armchairs, cups of tea balanced on knees, and take turns reading aloud our rough drafts and tender truths.
There were tears, laughter, awkward silences – and my shaking nervousness about stepping into a teaching role to share something I cared deeply about, with no priorexperience or qualifications. And there was a feeling of something ancient returning: people remembering how to listen to each other – without advice, interpretation or judgement. Just witnessing and holding space for each of our stories to shine. I didn’t know it at the time – I thought I was teaching creative writing – but what we were really doing was practicing belonging.
For most of my life, belonging had felt like something other people had – people who were more confident, less complicated, with less trauma behind them. What I came to understand in these writing and sharing circles was that belonging isn’t something you find or even earn; it’s something you grow together. It happens when a community makes space for your gifts, however small or unpolished, and in so doing, makes space for its own healing and empowerment.
When I first encountered the language of gift discovery through the Core Gift Institute, it was like finding a map that named what I’d already experienced. The founder, Bruce Anderson, talks about how our deepest gifts are shaped in the crucible of our most difficult experiences – that our pain and our purpose grow from the same taproot. This idea resonated deeply with me.
Through my own Core Gift Interview, I came to find words for what had been shaping my life all along, pulling me through, and emerging from, my most significant life experiences: helping others shine golden in the tapestry of being. For me, this means helping others create spaces where people can look deeply to see who is truly there, recognise our inviolable equality, and allow possibility to sing, so we can walk into the unknown with open hearts, together. Looking back, I can see how this gift is woven through every part of my life:
When I grew up in a family that cared most about appearances, I learned the importance of seeing beneath the surface. When I spent years in a spiritual cult that idolised perfection, I learned the necessity of equality. And when we lost our family home in my forties and had to rebuild from scratch, I learned how to walk into uncertainty with trust and openness. These experiences – painful as they were – became the compost in which my gifts could grow.
What I learned through this personal journey has also shaped how I now engage with communities and organisations to inspire more inclusive and welcoming systems. Good Life Check-in: Authentic Belonging & Shared Identity Nicola’s experience highlights the power of peer-led, identity-affirming spaces. The writing circle, a “third space” where people could “drop their masks and share the stories that mattered most to them,” became the crucible for genuine connection. Through my work with Befriend and our Vital Village project in the City of Rockingham, I am exploring how these same principles of belonging and gift discovery can take root in suburban life. How do we create spaces in our cities that feel like small towns? Places where people know one another, feel seen, and are invited to contribute? Sometimes it starts with something as simple as changing the shape of a gathering – sitting in a circle instead of rows, or beginning a meeting with a story instead of an agenda. It’s about shifting from ‘What’s wrong here?” to “What’s possible here?”, and from “Who’s missing?” to “Who do we already have?” and “What might we do together?”
When people come together in the spirit of equality and curiosity, something extraordinary happens. The room softens. People begin to speak from the heart.Hierarchies loosen, and our shared humanity becomes visible. That’s the power of community life rooted in gifts: it transforms not by fixing people but by welcoming and appreciating us – just as we are.
Good Life Check-in: Acceptance & Respectful Interaction
The writing circle was a place of Acceptance & Respectful Interaction because people learned to listen “without advice, interpretation or judgement.” This environment, where people were valued for their “tender truths” beyond any formal role or qualification, is the foundation of a dignity-based community life. I’ve learned that belonging is not a policy you can implement; it’s a practice. It’s what happens when systems and services make space for the human heart – for people to be recognised for what they can offer, not just what they lack. It’s also what happens when communities widen their circle, seeing every person – regardless of background or ability – as someone with something vital to contribute – something their community truly needs to thrive.
As we move toward a collective vision of a good life in community, I hope we remember that belonging isn’t about fitting in – it’s about being welcomed as we are. It’s not about sameness but about seeing the beauty in difference.A good life doesn’t begin with the design of perfect services or programs. It begins when someone looks at you and says, “We’re glad you’re here. We need what you bring.” Because when we give our gifts, we do more than heal ourselves – we help weave the kinds of communities where everyone belongs.
Good Life Check-in: Active Inclusion & Mutual Support
This shift in focus—from “What’s wrong here?” to “What’s possible here?”—is the essence of Active Inclusion & Mutual Support. Inclusion is not just about inviting people; it’s about seeing them as vital contributors, ensuring that community interactions are built on recognising and utilising everyone’s unique strengths or “gifts.”
How Can We Build This Village?
Nicola’s experience confirms that the good life we envision is achievable. It starts with simple, human-centered practices: listening without judgement, creating safe spaces and valuing gifts.
What small shift can communities make to ensure that we say, “I’m glad I’m here.”?
Nicola-Jane le Breton is a lived experience writer. She weaves storytelling, gift discovery, and deep listening to help communities grow connection, belonging, and shared purpose.