How to Host
My home felt eerily quiet, a foreign sound that felt unfamiliar as of late.
For much of the previous week, the furniture had been moved aside. The carpets rolled up and stored. Speakers had stood tall on stands. The kitchen overflowed with food and drinks. And the bedrooms were filled with visiting friends.
Not anymore though. The burst of excitement from a week full of parties, friends and events at my home has now faded. A few hundred people came through my home, as I hosted gatherings each night, on top of the thousands of people who came to the off-site events I hosted around Lisbon this past week.
Hosting gatherings at the surface appears to be an outward facing activity, however I have learned that it is as much an inwards facing journey. Hosting is a metaphor for how to move through life.
Hosting parties, for me, is about creating a space for connection and shared experience. It's an opportunity to bring together diverse individuals and watch the magic that unfolds from their interactions. I find joy in the spontaneity, the laughter, the deep conversations that often emerge.
But it's more than just an event.
Opening the doors of my home to guests feels like sharing a piece of me. It's a vulnerable act, allowing others to step into my personal space, where every item and corner tells a story about who I am. This vulnerability is not unlike the moments in life when I choose to share my innermost thoughts and feelings with someone. Both require a leap of faith, trusting that in showing my true self, I'll be met with warmth and acceptance. The act of inviting people into my home is an act of vulnerability, of opening up my personal space and extending an olive branch. It's a way of saying, "Here I am, in my element. I welcome you to be a part of it."
It is more than just a social occasion or a celebration; it's a chance to forge new connections and deepen existing ones. Each guest brings their own stories, perspectives, and energies, creating a unique moment that will never be replicated. These are microcosms of life itself, where diverse paths intersect, if only for a moment, this time in my living room. It's fascinating to observe how these interactions unfold, often leaving me with new insights and a richer understanding of the world around me, without leaving my home. The laughter, the shared stories, the clinking of glasses – all of it weaves together to create a feeling of connectedness that's both rare and precious.
Hosting, like life, often requires asking for help. It's a humbling experience to admit that I can't do everything alone, whether that means getting help in preparing food, setting up the space, or cleaning up afterwards. This act of reaching out mirrors the many times in life when I've needed a helping hand. It's a reminder that interdependence is not a weakness but a fundamental aspect of being human. Everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and it's in acknowledging and embracing this fact that I find not only the help I need but also opportunities to strengthen bonds with others.
Setting boundaries is a crucial part of both hosting and living. Just as I ask guests to remove their shoes or let them know when the party's over, life too demands that I set limits and uphold my values. Initially, this can be uncomfortable. The worry about what others might think or how they might react can be frightening. But with time, I've learned that staying true to my beliefs and desires is key to maintaining my sense of self. Boundaries aren't just about saying 'no'; they're about respecting my own needs and ensuring that my space – both physical and emotional – is treated with care.
There's a unique energy that comes with hosting events in my own space. Unlike the often draining experience of navigating a room full of strangers at a networking event, having people over is invigorating. In my home, I am in my element, surrounded by familiar comforts and faces. This familiarity removes the cognitive load that comes with meeting new people in unfamiliar settings. In life, when I am true to myself and in environments where I feel at ease, my energy levels are naturally higher, allowing me to engage more fully with those around me.
After the last guest has left and the quiet returns, I take time to rest and rebalance. This downtime is essential, a period for reflection and recentering. It allows me to process the experiences, conversations, and emotions that the gathering brought. This practice of taking a step back after a busy period mirrors the ebb and flow of life itself. It's in these moments of solitude and calm that I find the space to recharge, to gather my thoughts, and to prepare for whatever comes next. This balance between activity and rest, engagement and solitude, keeps life both sustainable and fulfilling.
With each event I host, I find the process becoming easier, more fluid. Experience has made hosting people easier for me. I grew up watching my parents host, and the training I had, unknowingly, has helped give me the confidence to host often on my own. Like any skill, living – and hosting – becomes more effortless with practice and experience. As I feel the effortless nature of the activity, I can focus my energy instead of the joyful interactions and memorable moments.
I feel gratitude for the energy that many people brought into my life this past week, and for all of the people that supported the intention to bring people together.
Hosting really is a microcosm of life - unpredictable, enriching, and full of opportunities for connection.
And that is how I learned how to host.
