The Boomerang of Belonging
The time I spoke just before Deepak Chopra and got tackle-hugged by the past
You know that feeling of I don’t belong here?
The quiet middle-school cafeteria panic of not knowing where to sit, and the slow realization that maybe nowhere is the right table?
That feeling?
I thought I’d outgrown it. I really did.
Then I got invited to speak at a corporate event.
The middle school cafeteria feeling hit me again. I assumed this event would involve me awkwardly entering a space where everyone knew exactly what they were doing, as if they all knew something about being a person that I simply don’t and never will.
I was wrong.
I had been invited to speak. Invited. Which already felt like a mix-up. Like a very polite prank. And I was there to speak about belonging.
It was the Global Leadership Conference for the Entrepreneurs’ Organization, a group of brilliant people who build, scale, and sell things. These people know what to do with letters like ROI, KPI, and CEO. They speak in acronyms and terms I will have to look up on my phone. Very impressive humans.
I was speaking about belonging at a place where I was pretty sure I didn’t.
As I prepped for the talk, I tried to quiet the noise. “They’re people,” I reminded myself. “You love people! You talk to people all the time.” Granted, usually I’m speaking with children or the people who work with children. But adults are just kids with meetings, right?
I was already feeling a bit out of my depth when I found out who was speaking after me: Deepak Chopra.
Oprah’s friend. One-with-the-universe. Globally celebrated guru.
So I retitled my talk: What Do You Say When You’re Speaking Just Before Deepak Chopra?
I decided to name the awkwardness outright.
I know personally and profoundly that when leaders feel safe, valued, and joyful within, they inevitably create that same kind of beautiful life-giving environment for others.
So I abandoned trying to impress and just told them stories of what belonging could look like.
I shared stories from classrooms and lunchrooms. I shared experiences with companies I’ve worked with that found ways to use stories, communal art, and gatherings to meaningfully bring people together.
Yes, they were accomplished business leaders. Yes, there was plenty they knew that I didn’t. But I could at least try to share a few things I do know, and maybe we could have some fun while I do it.
I shared that belonging isn’t a soft skill. It’s a human one.
I even decided to share an uncomfortable story. A story of why I always wear a hat and the scar it hides. The talk ended with me, onstage, hat off, and heart open. I reminded them that a better world begins with leaders brave enough to be human, leading with vulnerability and empathy.
I thought this would be the end, but it was only the beginning.
Before I could leave the stage, the event organizers had placed microphones around the room and invited the audience to share their own experiences of belonging. One by one, people shared. They shared stories of teams, awkward meetings made bearable, and culture shaped in quiet, human ways. And then …
a voice.
A story . . .
Familiar …
He said he had felt like an outcast in middle school. He felt out of place in life but found belonging at summer camp. And I’d been part of that.
I was stunned, but sure enough, it was a voice I knew well. This was the voice of a camper I first met more than twenty years ago.
From the very camp where I’d been a counselor in Tennessee, all the way to this room in Honolulu. A person I met early in my life, back when I had no idea the ways actions can echo so far, and now, here we were.
I rushed off stage and hugged him.
The room blurred. The years blurred. Here was this walking reminder that sometimes the belonging we share boomerangs back to us.
It was a moment I’ll never forget.
If you’re reading this and find yourself feeling a little out of place …
Like, maybe your invite got mixed up with someone else’s…
or there’s some cosmic prank as to why you’re where you are ….
As someone who knows this feeling well, I need you to know: you belong.
You belong. You belong. You belong.
I’d like you to know another true and powerful thing: you have the power, wherever you are, to create belonging.

The even wilder thing I’m just beginning to understand? Sometimes belonging comes back. That’s not why we do it, but… whoa. It really can boomerang.
Not always and not quickly and definitely not because we expect it to. But when it does? Wow. It will knock the wind out of you in the best possible way.
You are here and you belong.
We don’t always get to see the ripple. But every now and then, the things we offer the world return. They return older, wiser, and somehow more whole.
Leave a trail of welcome behind you. You never know who’s following.
Here’s a quick clip an awesome attendee sent me:
Here’s john a. powell, Director of the Othering & Belonging Institute at UC Berkeley, offering a look at a future where we rediscover our “fundamental connection to each other and the entire web of life.” Watch.
My speaking calendar is filling up for 2025-2026. Classrooms. Boardrooms. Campfires. All over. I’m offering keynotes, workshops, and creative experiences that blend storytelling, strategy, and soul. My talks are designed to help people of any age rediscover what makes them come alive and better share it with the world. Let’s create an experience for your people.
Whether it’s through a comment, a share, becoming a paid subscriber, or simply sending a kind note: thank you, thank you, thank you for supporting my work. I’m convinced that TEAM ENTHUSIAST has some of the best humans on the planet.
Gah! I’m crying. You are a beautiful human Brad and what a wonderful boomerang moment. Also I’m laughing. “Adults are just kids with meeting” - and bills and to do lists! I would also say, without meaning to offend, that KPI and ROI and CEO are very boring things and quite unimpressive - whereas being a human called Brad Montague is impressive. Loved this. Thank you 💛
For years I never felt like I belonged. Classmates would look at me as weird and I would often sit with the unpopular kids.
After a while I began to believe I was weird. By the time I was fifteen I thought I’d found out why. I’d get very attentive when a good looking guy would be in my immediate area.
That was a battle I fought for years. I didn’t think I belonged to myself much less any group of people.
I finally came to terms with it when I met and became close friends with someone who convinced me to finally open up to myself. Now I enjoy my own company and have friends who accept me for who I am.