St George’s Day – Quiet reflections on home, heritage and belonging

There’s something about days like this—St George’s Day—that can stir up all sorts of feelings for some of us. Even though it’s not a big celebration for most of us in England, the date still sits quietly in the calendar, like a gentle nudge. An invitation, perhaps, to pause and reflect on where we’re from… and where we feel we truly belong.

It can bring to mind stories we were told as children—dragons and bravery, flags and saints. But behind all the mythology and ceremony, there’s something more human worth noticing. Something about place. Identity. And community.

Because for many of us, these ideas can feel more complex than the stories we grew up with.

Not everyone feels at home in traditional English spaces. And sometimes, it’s hard to feel connected to the culture around us—especially when we’re quieter, more sensitive, or have been made to feel like we don’t quite fit the mould. The loudest voices often shape the narrative. And the quieter ones—ours—can feel left out. Forgotten. Or misunderstood.

So on a day that’s meant to be about pride in our heritage, maybe it’s okay to ask: What does Englishness mean to us?

Is it the land itself—the rolling hills and hidden paths, the sea air and hedgerows, the places we go to exhale?

Is it the tea and the awkwardness and the quiet kindness that shows up in small, consistent ways?

Or maybe it’s the feeling of finding your people, your places, where you don’t have to pretend. Where you can just be. Where your voice matters, even when it’s soft.

Here in our Quiet Connections community, we’ve often talked about how important it is to feel a sense of rootedness. Not just in a physical place, but in who we are. To feel seen and understood. To belong—not by being loud or dominant or ‘brave’ in a dragon-slaying kind of way—but by being real. Gentle. Human.

For some, that sense of connection might come from nature, or from a shared history. For others, it might be found in the stories we’re writing now—in our small gatherings, our conversations, our moments of eye contact and mutual understanding.

And if you don’t feel a strong connection to where you’re from—or if ‘home’ has always felt a little out of reach—then you’re not alone in that. It’s okay to feel a bit in-between. To hold questions about identity and belonging without needing quick answers.

There’s no right way to be English. No single version of community or culture we need to measure up to. We get to create something new—together. A version that’s more inclusive, more accepting, more tender with difference. A version where quietness isn’t seen as a weakness, but as something deeply valuable.

Maybe today, we can choose to honour that. But by noticing what feels like home to us. By leaning into the connections that matter. And by remembering that even when we feel like the quiet ones in the background, our presence still shapes the world around us.

And that’s something to be quietly proud of.