The Practice of Beginning
A photo from a walk in 2014 — the year I took my first step into entrepreneurship.
The Practice of Beginning
“Readiness is a myth. We learn by beginning.”
Along the way, I’ve collected these small teachings—phrases I’ve had to learn, repeat, and relearn. I share them at the start of each section to hold the thread.
I stepped into entrepreneurship eleven years ago, at twenty-six — single, freshly out of grad school, still learning how to trust my own voice. What began as a tutoring, coaching, and consulting practice was held together by a half-formed dream, a laptop, and the encouragement of a dear friend who believed in me long before I believed in myself.
I remember sitting on the comfy couch in my tenth shared Austin home — the reality of big-city life on a small budget — watching the cursor blink across an empty webpage template and wondering who I thought I was to start a business. I didn’t have a logo, a business plan, or any sense of where this would go — but I had a name, a domain, a community-funded Kickstarter, and this one person who kept saying, “You can do this.” and “I’m here to help.” So I hit publish.
“You have a ridiculously clear vision and talent,” he said. “Stop overthinking it and start. You’ll figure it out.” He had this quick, bright mind—funny, chaotic, kind, brilliant—and he matched my ADHD energy with ease. He believed in my voice and vision without hesitation, and he wanted my work in the world as much as I did, maybe more.
He was right — though I didn’t understand why at the time.
What I know now is this: starting isn’t a moment. It’s a practice. A willingness to begin again, and again, and again — especially when the path shifts, when life breaks your heart, or when what you thought you were building evolves into something unrecognizable.
Origins: The First Leap
“Starting is brave. Starting again is braver.”
In 2014, my work back then centered on tutoring students with disabilities and supporting parents and teachers. It feels like a lifetime ago.
Since then, I’ve moved through many professional identities—the kind of shifts that happen when you’re balancing paying rent with pursuing passion and purpose:
Entrepreneur and Speech-Language Pathologist Assistant → Early Childhood Special Education Teacher and Yoga Practitioner → Administrator and Curriculum Coordinator → Secondary STEM Instructional Coach and Leadership Facilitator → Presence-Based Coach and parent of two → Community Organizer and Public School Advocate → Co-Founder of two relationship-centered ventures
Looking back, none of these shifts were reinventions — they were integrations. Each role carried a piece of the next. Through every shift, one thread remained: I kept beginning and learning.
The friend who encouraged me to launch this work has since passed. His belief still grounds me. It’s a reminder that the people who nudge us into our beginnings leave legacies that continue long after they’re gone.
Today, writing has become part of my practice. My blog entires are a living archive of reflections on learning, leadership, liberation, presence-based coaching, yoga, somatics, and community care. It feels like a more accurate expression of what I’ve been building quietly for over a decade.
A Lifelong Learning Mindset
"I am a learner first. Everything else follows."
If one belief has guided me over the past eleven years, it's that intentional learning creates the path as much as disciplined effort does.
My work has stretched and deepened because I’ve stretched and deepened. I’m shaped daily by:
the mentors, friends, teachers, and coaches who walk this path with me
the educators, parents, and leaders I’ve coached
breath work and somatic practices that return me to my body
community care and collective learning frameworks
grief, burnout, and the slow rebuilding that follows
parenthood and its relentless lessons in humility and presence
policy and advocacy work in Austin ISD
nurturing my creative and writing practice
I often think about an affirming pranayama training in 2021 where a teacher said, “Your breath will show you what your mind is trying to outrun.” That single line planted the seed of how I coach, parent, and advocate. It taught me that presence — not urgency — is where clarity lives.
Learning is how I stay in integrity. It’s how I reconnect with purpose when I lose sight of it. It’s how this work continues to root itself deeper and stretch itself wider.
Perseverance in the Messy Middle
“Perseverance isn’t grit. It’s returning.”
Between 2020 and 2024, there were months when I didn’t write at all. Seasons when posting publicly felt too vulnerable or too exposed. Times when coaching, caregiving, and complex grief made it nearly impossible to articulate anything to anyone. I was coaching teachers through constant shifts, grieving what was happening to our community, and navigating my own high-risk pregnancy in a state where it was not safe to have a high-risk pregnancy — one complex systemic puzzle layered on top of the next. There were nights I sat at my desk with my laptop open, trying to write something that felt true, and all I could do was close the screen, place a hand on my belly, and breathe. My public work went quiet, but privately I was holding so much — my students, my teachers, my baby, my grief, my fear, my hope.
And yet, I never actually left.
For me, perseverance has never meant productivity. It has meant returning:
returning to breath
returning to community
returning to the work, even when it changes shape
returning to myself
One of the most honest lessons of this decade is that the middle of any profound change is always messy, complex, and necessary. My worthiness to begin and to lead is not contingent on arriving at clarity first. During those disruptive seasons, the steady check-ins from my trusted community were the true infrastructure that reminded me I wasn’t carrying any of this alone.
Same place; new chapter. A photo from a 2025 walk — 11 years after I first stepped into entrepreneurship.
What Eleven Years Have Taught Me
“Becoming unfolds and deepens us, carried forward by presence—not certainty.”
One of my greatest teachers was the year I returned to work as an instructional coach in public education just 7 weeks after a traumatic pregnancy and birth — only to be displaced soon after during a state-mandated Turnaround Plan “restart” that removed more than 86% of our staff. That season cracked something open in me: my understanding of systems, my relationship to my own leadership, and my commitment to my family, my personal coaching practice, and community-centered advocacy. It showed me that you can be grieving and still growing; reorienting and still becoming; caregiving while also thought-leading.
We all have seasons where the external chaos and the internal becoming collide.
If I could sit with the younger version of myself — the one trembling with excitement as she bought a domain name and hoped she had something meaningful to offer — I’d tell her: You will gain and gather some core truths from leading organizations, coaching change-makers, and building capacity from the classroom system to the community level.
Lessons on Personal Capacity & Presence
You Don't Have to Be Fully Ready. Begin before you feel ready. The clarity required to build an enduring venture is revealed in the movement, not before it. Begin again when you feel lost. You can’t rush the process of becoming.
Your Gifts are the Through-Lines. Your offerings will shift as you shift, but your core gifts—presence, somatic sensitivity, and strategic vision—will remain. Anchor your value to these irreducible gifts.
Doubt is Data, Not Evidence to Quit. Doubt and fear are part of the path, not evidence you should turn around. Learn to ask: What is this fear protecting, and what organizational system is mirroring it?
Seasons of Change are Your Truest Teachers. Your seasons of change (births, deaths of loved ones, career pivots) are not detours or setbacks; they are some of your most profound sources of wisdom and relational capacity.
Boundaries are the Currency of Sustainability. Your most equitable leadership tool is a firm boundary. Healthy boundaries are the well-designed fences that protect your most valuable resource: your time, energy, and focused attention.
Lessons on Strategy & Systems
The Diagnostic Tool is You. Your discomfort, frustration, or confusion within a system is not a personal flaw; it is the most accurate diagnostic tool available. Pay attention to what resists you, as that resistance holds the key to the deepest leverage point.
Systemic Change is Relational Change. You cannot fix a system without focusing on the quality of relationships within it. Focus less on policies and more on rebuilding trust and courageous communication.
Capacity is Not Just Competence. True organizational capacity is the system's ability to absorb change without fracturing. This requires slowing down the execution phase to prioritize nervous system regulation and clear process design.
Depth Over Breadth. Trying to serve everyone dilutes your power. Focus deeply on the clients you are uniquely positioned to serve. Master the skill of saying "no" to create space for your highest contribution.
Community Building is Ongoing and Requires Intention. It is not a one-time event; it is the daily, intentional practice of building, trusting, and sustaining relationships that allows lasting change to take root.
Nothing about this work has been linear. It has been cyclical, relational, seasonal — much more like breath than a business plan. So much of this work — of any work — is learning to hold complexity without losing yourself.
A Place Still Becoming
“We don’t arrive. We practice.”
Eleven years later, my work has evolved from a single service into an integrated practice centered on presence, leadership, and systemic change. Beyond my private coaching and leadership development practice, this holistic vision is realized through two key ventures:
ATX116 Alliance: A citywide movement for community-rooted public education.
SunRoot Creative Space: A community space for creative nurturers to refill their creative well—for those who care deeply and create deeply.
This practice is a place where breath, community, and personal evolution meet.
Like any true system, this practice continues to shift as I shift; it is a place still becoming.
I am profoundly grateful for every person who has walked this path with me—whether you've been here since year one, or you're finding this work now as it roots even deeper.
I used to think success would feel like arriving somewhere; now I know it feels more like remembering why I started.
Here’s to beginning. Here’s to continuing. Here’s to all the beginnings still ahead.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ready to Begin?
What beginning is quietly waiting for you—gently asking for your attention?
If you are ready to move past the exhausting cycle of effort without clarity, or if your organization is seeking to build sustainable capacity alongside profound culture change, I invite you to connect. Let's explore how we can ground your vision in the presence and strategy required for lasting impact.
H. E. Wong (she/they) is a queer and neurodiverse presence-based coach, former public school educator, and co-founder of two community-centered collectives. With a background in yoga and somatic practice, they bring a human-centered approach to their work at the intersections of story, systems, and collective change. Based in Austin for nearly two decades, they write and create community spaces that explore how systems shape people — and how people reshape systems.
