The Practice of Beginning & Becoming
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.”
I stepped into entrepreneurship eleven years ago, at twenty-six—fresh out of grad school and still learning how to trust my own voice. What began as a tutoring and coaching 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 a comfy couch in my tenth shared Austin home, watching the cursor blink across an empty webpage template. I didn’t have a logo or a business plan, but I had a domain name, a community-funded Kickstarter, and a friend who kept saying, “You can do this. I’m here to help.”
“You have a ridiculously clear vision,” he told me. “Stop overthinking it and start. You’ll figure it out.” He matched my ADHD energy with a bright, chaotic brilliance. He wanted my work in the world as much as I did.
He was right, though I didn't yet understand why. I know now that starting isn’t a moment; it’s a practice. It is the willingness to begin again when the path shifts, when life breaks your heart, or when the thing you’re building evolves into something unrecognizable.
Origins: The First Leap
“Starting is brave. Starting again is braver.”
In 2014, my work centered on tutoring students with disabilities. It feels like a lifetime ago. Since then, my professional identity has shifted through many iterations: SLP assistant, special education teacher, curriculum coordinator, STEM coach, and eventually, a co-founder of two community-centered ventures.
Looking back, these weren’t reinventions—they were integrations. Each role carried a piece of the next. Through every shift, the thread remained: I kept beginning, and I kept learning.
The friend who nudged me to hit "publish" has since passed. His belief still grounds me; it is a reminder that the people who witness our beginnings leave legacies that continue long after they are gone.
A Lifelong Learning Mindset
"I am a learner first. Everything else follows."
My work has deepened only because I have allowed myself to be stretched. I am shaped daily by breathwork and somatic practices, by the leaders and educators I coach, and by the relentless humility of parenthood.
I often think about a training in 2021 where a teacher said, “Your breath will show you what your mind is trying to outrun.” That line planted the seed of how I coach and advocate today. It taught me that presence—not urgency—is where clarity lives. Learning is how I stay in integrity; it is how this work roots deeper as it stretches wider.
Perseverance in the Messy Middle
“Perseverance isn’t grit. It’s returning.”
Between 2020 and 2024, my public work went quiet. There were seasons when coaching, caregiving, and complex grief made it impossible to articulate anything. I was navigating a high-risk pregnancy in Texas, a state where that was unsafe, all while coaching teachers through systemic collapse. There were nights I sat at my laptop and all I could do was close the screen, place a hand on my belly, and breathe.
And yet, I never actually left.
Perseverance has never meant "productivity" to me. It has meant returning: to the breath, to the community, and to the work, even as it changed shape. My worthiness to lead is not contingent on arriving at clarity first.
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 just seven weeks after a traumatic pregnancy—only to be displaced shortly after during a state-mandated “restart” that removed 86% of staff.
That season cracked something open. It forced me to reconcile my understanding of systems with my own leadership and my commitment to my family. It showed me that you can be grieving and still growing; reorienting and still becoming; caregiving while also leading.
If I could sit with the 2014 version of myself—the one trembling as she bought a domain name—I would tell her that leading organizations and coaching leaders would eventually yield these core truths:
Lessons on Presence & Capacity
Begin before you are "ready." Clarity is revealed in movement, not before it. When you feel lost, the answer is usually to begin again.
Your gifts are the through-lines. Your offerings will shift, but your core gifts—presence, somatic sensitivity, responsiveness, and strategic vision—are irreducible. Anchor your value there.
Doubt is data, not a stop sign. Fear is part of the path. Instead of quitting, ask: What is this fear protecting, and what organizational system is mirroring it?
Seasons of change are the truest teachers. Births, deaths, and career pivots are not detours; they are your most profound sources of wisdom and relational capacity.
Boundaries are the currency of sustainability. A firm boundary is an equitable leadership tool. It is the fence that protects your time, energy, and focused attention.
Lessons on Strategy & Systems
The diagnostic tool is you. Your discomfort or frustration within a system isn’t a personal flaw; it is a sensor. Pay attention to what resists you—that resistance usually holds the key to the deepest leverage point.
Systemic change is relational change. You cannot fix a system without focusing on the quality of the relationships within it. Focus less on rules and more on the process of rebuilding trust and courageous communication.
Capacity is more than competence. True organizational capacity is a system’s ability to absorb change without fracturing. This requires slowing down 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 "no" to create space for your highest contribution.
Community is an intentional practice. It is not a one-time event; it is the daily work of building and sustaining the trust that allows lasting change to take root.
Nothing about this decade has been linear. It has been cyclical and seasonal—much more like a breath than a business plan.
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. This holistic vision is realized through my private coaching practice and two core ventures:
ATX116: A citywide movement connecting communities across Austin ISD to share knowledge, build collective voice, and advocate for strong, equitable public schools.
SunRoot Creative Space: A sanctuary for those who care and create deeply — offering creative and embodied community experiences that support reflection, connection, and sustainable growth.
Like any living system, my practice continues to evolve as I evolve. It is a space still taking shape. I am deeply grateful for every person who has walked this path with me — whether you’ve been here since year one or are just discovering this work as it grows deeper roots.
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 what’s unfolding ahead.
If you feel called toward your next step — or your organization is ready to build sustainable capacity — I invite you to connect. Together, we’ll ground your vision in the strategy and presence that create 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 ventures. 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.
