Five years Out of the Clouds

- Jun 30, 2025

Butterflies were dancing in my belly the other morning. That evening, I was be hosting a small celebration to mark the 5th anniversary of Out of the Clouds, my long-form interview podcast. I got cake (red velvet, if you must know) and rosé for what the heat called for aka a ‘piscine de rosé’ (read over lots of ice). I stopped at candles—we’re in the middle of a heatwave, lighting a flame felt a tad too much. It was a lovely celebration, and before sharing my thoughts on the past five years, I’d like to extend much gratitude to you who have been listening and supporting my efforts with this show, a globally minded offering despite being produced in my little corner of the world. Here are some thoughts that emerged over the past week.  

I’ve never been one for big birthdays or anniversaries. I tend toward discretion—intimate dinners over lavish parties. Yet, as I prepared for this milestone, I realized how important it is to create rituals around our achievements. As Robin Wall Kimmerer writes in Braiding Sweetgrass, “Ceremony is the way we can remember to remember.” In a world that rewards constant forward motion, pausing to reflect is a radical act. This small gathering became my ceremony—a moment to honor the journey, to share gratitude, and to acknowledge the growth that so easily slips by unnoticed.

When I launched Out of the Clouds in June 2020, the world was in turmoil and so was my own life. I moved from Rome to Geneva in the middle of a pandemic, and the idea of marking the podcast’s birth with a party simply did not even cross my mind. In hindsight, that absence of ritual made this five-year anniversary all the more meaningful.

My initial instinct was to be a curator of voices, approaching guests I’d love to host at my dinner table. Over time, I discovered that using my own voice—asking questions, sharing personal reflections, occasionally fumbling my way through those—was just as vulnerable and transformative. I learned that the act of speaking, of showing up, is itself an act of self-acceptance.

To get to 100 interviews, I’ve approached probably 150 or more. A no-reply from potential guests used to unsettle me, which has brought me to appreciate a clear “no” over the ambiguity of silence. Producing a well-researched, long-form interview podcast is a huge commitment—often ten hours or more per episode. I’ve learned that success isn’t about churning out content with mechanical regularity, but about depth, presence, and the quality of the conversations I entertain.

Not every episode comes easily. Occasionally guests cancel at the last minute, or simply disappear into the ether just as we’d confirmed a recording date. My meditation practice and coaching background helped me to notice the frustration this brings up, as well as reflecting that what is happening is not a reflection of me but another person’s unique circumstances, then holding myself with self-compassion. Then I take a deep breath, and I move on. Disappointment is part of the journey, and part of life, but the more things go, the easier it is to let things slide—and more easily redirect my energy where it’s appreciated. The sting of rejection, when it comes, lingers a while, but I’ve learned to honor it as part of the creative process.

For a while, I subscribed to pricey professional podcasting tools, chasing metrics and rankings. Big surprise: they weren’t worth the money. The one useful thing they taught me (which I knew already) is that consistency is prized above all else in the podcasting world. While I can’t commit to publishing every week or on a strict schedule given my current workload, I still show up with consistency in many other ways, including over time (aka years). They may not be understood by the same metrics, but they matter nonetheless. 

As an independent creator, I’ve chosen to define success on my own terms: high-quality, generous conversations; authentic presence; a thoughtful, flexible approach to interviewing; and top-quality editing. 

I’m still learning to bring my full self to each conversation. My mindfulness and coaching training have been invaluable here, helping me model deep listening and presence for my guests and listeners. I hope these qualities foster a sense of emergence—those moments when a conversation takes on a life of its own.

Some of my most rewarding moments have come from unexpected connections. There’s a special magic in witnessing a guest have an “aha” moment, or in hearing that a listener connected with a guest halfway across the world (which happened less than a week ago!). These moments remind me that podcasting is not just about broadcasting—it’s about weaving a web of relationships, seen and unseen.

Feedback from listeners is rare, especially in this age of algorithmic change and shrinking social media engagement. But the in-person salons I now host through Le Trente, inspired by the podcast, have shown me—in 3D—the value of deep listening and spacious conversation. Friends and guests have remarked on the space I create for others to finish their thoughts, a skill I’ve honed through coaching and one I hope to keep refining.

One of the gifts of podcasting is the ability to edit. This creates a sense of safety and intimacy—I encourage guests (and myself) to be open, knowing I will use my best skills (both in editing and as a communications expert) to shape the final conversation to make them shine. I’ve learned that not interrupting, allowing space for silence and thought, helps guests go deeper and process their answers and stories more fully.

I’ve also noticed how the smallest interjection—a supportive “oh, yeah”—can sometimes derail someone's train of thought. Seeing this in front of my eyes in the shape of audio waveforms during editing has made me more mindful of how I show up as a listener. I strive to be present, and delicate, but not intrusive. Still, I’m a work in progress. 

Earlier this year, I realised that I am the first woman in my lineage to use my voice publicly—whether as a writer or a podcast host. This striking realisation, five years in, gave me a clear sense of responsibility. I hope that by sharing my stories, telling you about my path, I can inspire others, especially women, to claim their space and share their voices.

Pressing “publish” on early episodes, especially in the first season of the show, was nerve-wracking. Same about publishing my newsletters. I worried about sounding trite or uninteresting, and my PR and communications background made me hyper-aware of wanting to show up as a consummate professional. Like with anything else, practice helps. I don’t get nervous when I press record, but I still have butterflies when I ship a new episode. I’ve actually delegated the publishing part, so it’s a little easier on my nervous system. Over time, I’ve grown more comfortable with imperfection and more willing to show up as I am. If anything, this is what I am leaning on for my upcoming show, The Metta Interview—more on that soon!

So what have I learned about the power—and responsibility—of using my voice in public? 

For me, it’s about creating a thoughtful, respectful space that honors each guest’s story just as much as my listener’s time. It’s about generosity, curiosity, and a willingness to be changed by what I hear, modeling the values that guide my life, and by extension, this show. 

My friend asked the other day what I am hoping to see happen in the next five years of Out of the Clouds.

I sat with that for a moment, before getting a clear download, and here it is. 

My dream is that I will somehow encourage others to take to the mic, to share their own stories, even if it feels daunting. In a world where so many voices are marginalised or silenced, my goal is for Out of the Clouds to be a platform for connection, hope, and built on the profound belief that we are all interconnected and we learn best from each other. 

You may not know this but my own life was changed by a couple of landmark conversations on a particular podcast. Or two. As such, it makes sense that with my own project, I hope to pay it forward, hosting conversations that foster emergence, expansion, and dare I say it, even change. 

As I look to the next five years, I’m excited to see how Out of the Clouds will continue to evolve. The show is now part of Le Trente, and with two flagship podcasts on the horizon, I’m dreaming bigger than ever. Perhaps a podcast network is in my future—after all, I always wanted to get into publishing, and who knows what may happen. 

Now, I would love your help! If you’ve enjoyed the show, please share a rating or review, or simply pass along your favorite episode to a friend. Think of it as an anniversary present. 

Here’s to the next five years—may we all find inspiration and nourishment in each other’s stories.