In a Northside house that looks more like a neighbor’s place than a nonprofit HQ, something quietly radical is happening. No flashy signs. No guru posturing. Just an open door, a set of worn stairs, and a handful of people who believe that without inner change, there is no outer change—and without collective change, no change really matters.

This is The Hive: A Center for Contemplation, Art, and Action. And it may be the most transformative, yet under-the-radar, force for good in Cincinnati.

Where Spirituality Gets Real (and a Little Weird, in the Best Way)

Unlike traditional wellness studios or academic leadership programs, The Hive doesn’t offer enlightenment in a bottle or slogans on tote bags. Instead, it builds community around practices that are equal parts soul-stretching and system-challenging. Here, you can practice Qigong one night, explore the wisdom of monastic habits the next, and spend the weekend in a workshop on how rest can be a form of resistance.

The Hive's offerings shift with the seasons—literally. Each quarter embraces a theme like Reflection, Abundance, or Unknowing, creating a rhythm that mirrors the natural and emotional cycles we all live through (but usually ignore until they knock us over).

Their spring lineup is a case in point:

“Make Your Life a Monastery” invites participants to craft sacred structure in chaotic times.
“Coming Home to Self” helps folks navigate trauma and reclaim their bodies.
“The Spirit of a Doodle” encourages creativity as a healing act.
And weekly Qigong classes offer gentle, energetic alignment that’s surprisingly powerful for something that looks so slow.

This isn’t just self-help; it’s self-in-context. Every class, every facilitator, every group retreat reinforces the same truth: personal healing and social justice aren’t separate journeys.

The Fellowship That’s Not Just a Buzzword

At the heart of The Hive’s impact is its Contemplative Leadership Fellowship, a two-year deep dive that starts not with spreadsheets or strategic plans, but with silence. Real silence. The kind that asks what you’re afraid to hear and then waits patiently while you wrestle with it.

It’s a cohort-based, two-year process—year one for inner grounding, year two for outer impact—anchored by quarterly in-person retreats and monthly meetups. The program teaches everything from rest as resistance to spiritual trauma recovery to systems thinking. It costs $3,000 per year, but scholarships and sliding scales ensure access isn't just for the well-heeled.

And unlike some fellowships where you graduate with a certificate and a nice headshot, Hive fellows leave with something messier but more valuable: clarity, courage, and community.

Membership That Means Something

For those not ready to go full Fellowship, Hive membership offers a generous and radically fair alternative. The sliding-scale structure makes it accessible, and the benefits—free seasonal classes, discounted workshops, and potlucks that could double as TEDx salons—give members not just content but connection.

It’s also a space that asks something back. Hive members don’t just consume programming; they help shape it. Whether by organizing a dinner, volunteering at events, or sharing their gifts with the community, the model reinforces reciprocity over transaction.

Inclusive by Intention, If Not Yet Infrastructure

While The Hive offers online and hybrid classes for accessibility and geographic reach, its physical space still reflects the limitations of the century-old building it inhabits. There are steps, no elevator, and a bathroom that isn’t ADA-compliant—issues the team openly acknowledges and navigates as best they can.

To their credit, transparency is baked into the culture here. Questions about accommodations or class fit are welcomed, and you're encouraged to email Rae or Lindsay, not just click a box on a form. That’s not just good hospitality—it’s radical care in action.

Faculty as Mirrors, Not Megaphones

You won’t find any self-styled spiritual celebrities on The Hive’s faculty list, but you will find an astonishingly deep bench of facilitators who blend academic rigor, lived experience, and spiritual humility.

Troy Bronsink, the founder, brings the paradoxical calm of a trauma-informed minister who’s not trying to save you.
La Shanda Sugg, a therapist and somatic expert, teaches emotional resilience without sugarcoating it.
Leslie Hershberger, one of the country’s top Enneagram facilitators, leads shadow work with curiosity and warmth.
Karen Light, Jacki Millay, and Daniel “D. Lamar” Hughes round out the team with embodied movement, creativity, and community organizing at the center of their work.

Each brings a unique lens—Christian mysticism, engaged Buddhism, trauma therapy, art, enneagram, systems change—but they all orbit the same gravitational pull: belonging, transformation, and action.

So What Is This Place, Really?

The Hive isn’t a church. It’s not a school. It’s not a co-op, a nonprofit, or a retreat center in the usual sense.

It’s a living question.

It asks: What happens when people take themselves seriously and lightly? When they do the hard work of healing in a room full of others trying to do the same? When art, rest, activism, and contemplation sit at the same table—and share the same potluck?

Why You Should Pay Attention (and Maybe Join In)

In an age of algorithmic connection and performative wokeness, The Hive offers something simple and rare: actual transformation. It’s slow, inconvenient, and beautifully analog. And it works.

If you're looking to get unstuck, to reweave meaning into your day-to-day, or to find people who aren’t afraid of the deep end, this is your invitation.

The Hive isn’t for everyone. But if it’s for you, you’ll know.

And they’ll be waiting—with a floor cushion, a cup of tea, and just the right question to help you begin.

To learn more, explore class options, or sneak into a doodle workshop, visit cincyhive.org

Hive Minded