Names are funny things.
Sometimes you know exactly what something should be called from the beginning. Other times, you circle around it for a while, trying on different words and ideas until one finally feels like it has been there all along.
Ristare wasn’t the beginning of the idea. It was the word that finally gave the idea a home.
When I began imagining this business, I knew what I wanted people to feel before I knew exactly what to call it.
I wanted to create space.
Space away from the pace of everyday life. Space from the roles we carry and the expectations that come with them. Space to experience somewhere new, have a different kind of conversation, ask better questions, and perhaps see something that has been difficult to see from inside the routine.
Eventually, I found the word ristare (ree-STAH-reh).
A word for stopping
Ristare is an Italian word, literary and somewhat uncommon today, associated with stopping, pausing, staying or lingering rather than continuing forward without interruption.¹
And that idea immediately resonated with me.
Not stopping forever.
Not escaping your life.
Not stepping away because everything needs to be abandoned or reinvented.
Just stopping long enough to notice.
That distinction matters to me.
So much of our lives rewards movement. We move from meeting to meeting, responsibility to responsibility, decision to decision.
I know that rhythm well. I’ve spent plenty of days with eight hours of back-to-back video calls, and others bouncing between virtual meetings and in-person conversations, closing one laptop only to run across the hospital for the next meeting.
We become incredibly capable at managing what is directly in front of us.
But capability and clarity aren’t always the same thing.
Sometimes clarity comes when we interrupt the familiar.
For me, travel has often created that interruption. There is something about being somewhere unfamiliar, walking streets you don’t usually walk, hearing another language, lingering over a meal, looking out at a landscape you’ve never seen before, that loosens our grip on the way we normally think.
The distance doesn’t give us the answers.
It simply gives us enough quiet to hear ourselves more clearly.
That is what Ristare came to represent for me.
A familiar feeling
After I created the Ristare logo, I began to realize that it felt familiar.
Not because I had seen the exact design somewhere before, but because it seemed to carry the feeling of somewhere I had already been. Somewhere I had felt truly at peace.
That place was in Newport, Rhode Island. In September 2024, I stood on the back porch of The Breakers beneath its graceful arches, looking out over the water on a clear, sunny day. The sky was bright blue, the view was seemingly endless, and everything around me seemed to slow down.
It was one of those moments that stays with you.
I later shared an Instagram post from that experience with the song “September Morn” by Neil Diamond. The song, the setting, and the feeling all seemed to belong together.
Then, after I had finally settled on the Ristare logo, I stumbled upon this photograph from that day.
Looking at it, I recognized something I hadn’t been able to name before. The logo felt connected to that place: the arches, the openness, the calm, and the sense of being exactly where I was meant to be.
I knew then that it was fate.
The image had come before the explanation. The feeling had come before the story.
And somehow, Ristare had been pointing me back to a moment when I had already experienced what the name was meant to hold: a pause, a sense of peace, and enough distance to see things differently.
And why “Collective”?
The second half of the name was equally intentional.
I didn’t want Ristare to feel like one person dispensing answers. In fact, that would run counter to everything I believe about coaching.
The word Collective leaves room.
Room for the traveler and the coach (And don’t worry, I don’t actually stow away in your carry-on).The coaching happens around the journey, with just enough connection along the way to help you notice what’s coming up.
Room for places and people. Room for local experiences and thoughtful partners. Room for conversations, perspectives, and moments we could never completely plan in advance.
And, over time, room for Ristare to become more than any one offering.
Travel may be part of it. Coaching may be part of it. Retreats, gatherings, collaborations and experiences may become part of it too.
What connects them isn’t a particular destination or itinerary.
It’s the belief that sometimes we need to change our surroundings to change our perspective.
That meaningful growth doesn’t always happen by pushing harder.
And that occasionally, the most productive thing we can do is stop moving long enough to ask:
What am I carrying that needs some distance?
That is Ristare.
A pause, but not an ending.
A little distance, with intention.
And space to see what might come next.
Here’s to making room for what matters most,
Nicole
¹ Treccani, “Ristare,” Sinonimi e Contrari, Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana.