The Third Space: Where You Belong Simply Because You’re You

The other day I saw a post on Instagram that stopped me in my scroll. It talked about the concept of the third space—a place that isn’t home, and it isn’t work. It’s something else. A space where you feel like you belong. Where you can show up just as you are and be welcomed, seen, and loved, without expectation. No phones. No distractions. Just presence, people, and the quiet magic of being together.

It immediately transported me to a simpler time—summers growing up, when my mom would sit outside with neighbors and friends, sipping coffee and chatting. There were no cell phones, no endless to-do lists pinging from a screen. Their only interruptions were the occasional child bursting in from outdoor adventures with a scraped knee or a question about snacks. Those front porch conversations were a kind of third space, weren’t they? A natural gathering of souls woven together by everyday stories and sacred presence.

Like many people, I long for that kind of connection. A safe harbor in the middle of a busy life. And I’ve realized—it’s been a long time since I’ve truly had a third space of my own. Somewhere outside of home or work that feels like a soft place to land. A place that tells my nervous system, you belong here.

Over the years, I’ve found myself creating versions of it in my women’s circles. Sacred gatherings where we show up with our truths, our laughter, our grief. Over and over again, women tell me these circles feel like a safety net—woven with threads of unconditional love and radical acceptance. I realize now: we’re not just gathering to meditate or journey or share. We’re reclaiming the third space.

It makes me wonder: Do you have a third space?

A place that invites you to exhale, to soften, to just be?

If you don’t, what would it feel like to have one? What would it look like?

Would it be quiet and green, like a park bench under your favorite tree?

Would it be warm and lively, like a coffee shop where your name is known? Like the series, "Cheers".

Would it be spiritual, creative, restorative?

Maybe it’s not a place at all—but a group, a circle, a ritual.

I believe we all need this kind of belonging. Not just virtually, not just occasionally—but woven into our lives like breath.

So I invite you to reflect:

Where is your third space—or where could it be?

And if you’re longing for one, like I have been, maybe it’s time to build it together. Shoot me over an email! I'd love to connect!