Breaking bread and breaking barriers

On a cool October morning in the Mat-Su Valley, twenty Alaskans jumped into their cars to gather in the heart of Wasilla and begin learning the art and science of “leading conversations that build community.” I counted myself fortunate to be among them. For the next two days, we would dissect and discuss the arc of purpose driven dialogue—and what it takes to steer an emotionally charged conversation toward an actionable outcome.

Thankfully, our two facilitators had been honing their craft over the last several years and came prepared. They knew that 90% of their workload needed to be completed before anyone walked into the building that morning—where, I’ll add, a very welcome breakfast awaited us. Talking through tough topics is no small endeavor, and breaking bread with others was a good place to start.

After grabbing a bite to eat, we were invited to sit in a large circle where brief introductions followed, albeit with a twist: share with the group one thing you left behind to be here today. It was a great ice breaker, thought provoking and relevant. I had left behind my little log cabin, deep in the woods of Big Lake. I’d been winterizing, and with termination dust creeping further and further down the valley's mountain tops, there was no time to waste.

Other attendees were juggling childcare, stepping away from audits, or maybe just leaving their comfy couch at home—I remember that comment because it was followed by a relatable laugh echoing around the room. Soon we would know that comfort (mixed with growth, panic, and humor) are recurring themes when taking on the task of building community.

Next we made an agreement: be present, listen hard, honor one another’s vulnerabilities, and embrace the complexity of what was about to follow.

We learned about guiding questions, pair sharing, and springboards—as well as their purpose in leading conversations. For example, pair sharing is a swift six minute exercise that helps build a closer connection with a new acquaintance.

Shortly thereafter, we dove headfirst into the not-so-tranquil pool of participating in hard conversations with people we had only just met. Race relations, yep. Humanity versus politics, sure why not. Cultural and class conflict, bring it on. Systemic barriers, absolutely.

For several of us, there was a lot of getting lost in the process. Turns out, it’s hard to keep a bead on methodology when the topics are made of such heady stuff. A technique I paid particular attention to was explained as: knowing when to bring heat versus rest into a room. When do facilitators hit the gas pedal to move a conversation forward? Or conversely, when is it time to pump the brakes and slow things down?

Circling back to that first morning of the workshop—I was driving toward Wasilla, and my mind kept shifting gears: Do I need more ice melt? Gosh, it’ll be exciting to meet some fresh faces. Ugh, I hope those bridges have been repaired properly...

Then as I pulled into the parking lot, I glimpsed 2025 in my rear view mirror. Dark days and chilly temperatures were just around the corner, and for that matter, so was 2026. Climbing out of my car, the worries of winter and an uncertain future washed away. I stepped onto the sidewalk, focused on this new group of Alaskans I’d be joining inside. I was really looking forward to building community with them—and cautiously optimistic about brighter days ahead.