Igniting Moral Imagination: Creating Safe Spaces to Gather and Dream New Worlds
Reflections from a retreat hosted by At Your Service and Faherty in Upstate New York.
Troutbeck feels like it breathes, nestled within layers of history and silence. This place, long a haven for social justice visionaries, holds a powerful quiet—a stillness that seems to carry echoes of past gatherings. It’s a sanctuary where the likes of Martin Luther King Jr. and Zora Neale Hurston once gathered to reflect, plan, and be in the community. Walking its grounds, you can feel their echoes—a reminder of the enduring effort to plan for unseen futures and imagine a world larger than the realities we exist in now. Visiting for the first time this fall, I felt the weight of these histories—a place that seems to know why we came here: to bear witness, to hold space, to honor one another’s struggles, and to renew both our inner and outer lives.
When my dear friend Noor Tagouri invited me to what she described as a unique gathering—a collaboration between At Your Service and Faherty and the first of its kind—I initially thought it might be another brand activation. I wasn’t sure what to expect. But knowing Noor and her unwavering commitment to creating intentional, transformative spaces, I immediately said yes, trusting it would be grounded in care and purpose.
Upon arriving, it became clear that this was no ordinary invitation. This wasn’t about promoting a brand or fulfilling an agenda. There were no obligations, no asks—just an offering: to come, to breathe, to be, and to connect. In our capitalist world and fragmented media landscape, where demands often feel endless and relationships transactional, stepping into a space like this felt like an extraordinary gift. The invitation was as liberating as it was intentional: do what you want at your own pace. If you needed solitude, the facilities were there for you to rest, reflect, or read. If you craved connection, opportunities to engage with others were thoughtfully woven into the experience—whether at a communal dinner, an open mic night, a visit to Maitri Farm, or while making s’mores by the fireside. Every moment felt like an offering of presence and possibility, tailored to meet each individual where they were.
This experience was brought to life by the intentionality of Tagouri, Kerry Docherty, Joél Leon, and a host of other dedicated individuals. Their collective vision ensured that this wasn’t just another retreat but a space of deep restoration and renewal.
Among the brilliant hearts and minds present were Omar Offendum, Prentis Hemphill, Rachel Cargle, Raquel Willis, Reggie Hubbard, Ruthie Lindsey, Cat Lantigua, Arij Mikati, J Wortham, Daniel Maté, Jezz Chung, Emel Mathlouthi, Naley By Nature, Sarah Jones, Kashif Shaikh, and more. Each brought their unique perspective and energy, weaving together an experience grounded in care, creativity, and collective purpose.
Hemphill illuminated the power of embodiment in healing. Cargle challenged us to confront systems of oppression with clarity and courage. Willis envisioned justice that felt expansive and essential. These conversations, layered and often challenging, became portals of transformation. Each exchange opened a gentle unfolding of new ways to see, feel, and be—while also holding space for the grief of a world reeling from ongoing genocide, environmental devastation, and systemic violence. Amid the heartbreak, there was a collective resolve to confront these truths and dream of something better: futures built on mutual aid, justice, and unyielding hope.
Amid the complexities of our time, gathering in person is a radical act—a declaration that we are not alone and that we still believe in the possibility of transformation. Experiencing this before the election and reflecting on it after has only deepened my conviction. For those of us committed to collective liberation, this was more than a retreat; it was a reclamation of what holds the deepest significance.
My friend Shanika Hillocks reminded me of an important truth: too often, we misuse the language of connection and purpose. We call it community when we really mean audience or followers. We call it art when it’s simply content. We say organize when the mission serves only a select few. And we shy away from conversations that are honest, challenging, or uncomfortable. If we fail to disrupt this extractive mindset, we lend it credibility. This gathering stood in opposition to all of that—it was a space for authenticity, where intentions aligned with action, and the difficult but necessary truths of our time were embraced.
Faherty and the At Your Service team understood the power of showing up differently. They didn’t arrive with an agenda or expectations—no brand messages to push, no hashtags to amplify. Instead, they offered time, space, and resources, asking nothing in return. This absence of transaction transformed the retreat into something rare and deeply genuine: a quiet offering of care that reminded us what it looks like when brands become co-creators in the work of justice and healing.
Their approach—free of strings and obligations—created a container where participants could fully inhabit the moment. It wasn’t about benefactor and recipient; it was about shared humanity and a willingness to hold space. In a world often marked by performance and pretense, this felt transformative—a model for engagement that centers authenticity over optics.
At the same time, spaces like these call for reflection on privilege. The ability to retreat to sanctuaries like Troutbeck is not accessible to all. Time, resources, and rest are luxuries, and with those privileges comes responsibility. The healing and vision cultivated in these spaces must ripple outward, touching lives far beyond the room. The power of gatherings like this is not in their exclusivity but in their ability to catalyze movements, planting seeds of change that extend beyond their origins.
Liberation is like that—it demands that we hold discomfort, question what is familiar, and dream what has yet to be seen, which requires space and time. I am also reminded that none of us accomplish anything alone. Someone noticed my work and put my name forward—a powerful reminder of how much we depend on one another. Liberation is never a solitary act; it is woven from the collective.
It begins here, in these quiet, radical spaces where we dare to imagine something different. Liberation doesn’t require grand declarations or perfect plans. It starts with simple yet profound acts: gathering, holding space, and being fully present. And it demands action. People, companies, and brands with resources must put their money and efforts toward this work. Everyone has a role to play.
So, I leave you with an invitation to seek out or create these spaces in your life. They don’t need to be grand. A single conversation, a moment of shared silence, or a commitment to listen deeply can spark transformation. It is in these small acts of connection that we begin to grieve, heal, and dream together. Here, one act of presence at a time, we start to build the world we long to live in.
And for the brands that speak of community and care, let your investments reflect your words. True commitment is shown not in declarations but in action—in the resources you dedicate, the support you provide, and the spaces you help create.