Building a life without a village

When I was living in Asia through my mid-twenties, I didn’t spend much time thinking about community. It felt ordinary and naturally present in everyday life. Extended family was involved in daily life, neighbors shared food, and friends were usually within reach. At times I wished for more personal space or fewer probing questions, but overall I felt anchored and belonged in ways I didn’t fully appreciate then.

Moving to India didn’t change that very much. The environment was different, but the sense of connection was familiar. I didn’t have to learn how to relate to people — it happened around me.

That shifted when I moved to the United States in 2015 and later to Canada. In two apartment buildings where I lived, I never came to know the people next door, and they didn’t know me. I’m not naturally outgoing, so I didn’t initiate much either. What stood out was how quickly this became normal. Privacy and distance seemed expected, and I adapted to that rhythm without question. Only later did I notice a quiet longing for something I had once taken for granted.

Over time, I began to see that in places where personal independence is highly valued, connection often requires more deliberate effort. It can feel unfamiliar at first, but it’s possible to build a supportive circle, even if the starting point is small.

Here are some approaches that have helped me:

Take a small first step. When I meet someone a few times — a colleague, a neighbor, someone walking their dog — and there’s a natural ease, I suggest something simple: coffee at the office cafeteria, a short walk in the neighborhood, or a dog playdate. If those moments go well and we continue to get along, I might invite them to sit in the backyard for tea. Many relationships begin with low-pressure invitations.

Welcome differences. For a long time, I spent most of my time with people close to my age or background. Gradually, I opened that up. Some of the most meaningful conversations I have now are with people whose life experiences are very different from mine. Variety doesn’t guarantee connection, but it broadens the possibilities.

Spend time where your interests naturally take you. Showing up for activities you genuinely enjoy — volunteering at a long-term care home or food bank, joining a walking group, taking a class — makes connection feel less forced. It’s easier to find common ground when you’re already doing something that matters to you.

Let small interactions stay small, without dismissing them. A brief chat with the barista you see each week, a comment at the yoga studio, a hello at the library — most of these exchanges begin and end lightly. But every so often, one of them becomes something more. Even when they don’t, they add warmth to daily life.

Introduce people who might appreciate knowing each other. When I notice two people who could benefit from connecting — someone who wants to get fit and someone leading a gentle yoga class, for example — I make the introduction. It doesn’t take much, and it creates value beyond my own relationships.

Keep in touch without keeping score. I try to reach out every month or two: a quick message, a holiday note, a link to something someone might enjoy. Sometimes I’m the one starting the conversation again and again and that’s totally ok. I’ve noticed that people who stay in touch this way tend to build strongest networks over time.

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Community doesn’t always form on its own, but it can be created through steady, thoughtful effort. It may look different from what I grew up with, yet what we build intentionally can still offer connection, familiarity, and support — even in places where the village isn’t assumed.