“A friend is a second self” -Artistotle
There are few things that make me feel as ecstatic and full as hosting friends. Choosing ingredients, the voluntary labor, the catch-up conversations as someone chops and I sauté and another friend sits on the chair they dragged up to the kitchen, sipping wine and filling us in on the changes in their life. The beginning small talk and then the necessary updates that make way for the honorary storytelling, the letting-in on secrets, the deep rib-shaking laughter and the conversations that gradually grow in depth, the pondering and passing of ideas that leaves a buzz and no room for anything other than the thoughts of the present moment. The first and last bites, and the friend that collects empty stained plates without a word spoken or an implication given. When I bring out something sweet and everyone’s faces light up, maybe a deck of cards comes out, too, but no matter what, the conversation never dies and it’s like we’re skipping from topic to topic like frogs on lily pads and then the night slows as we share honest feelings, and it ends with some sighs and some understanding and the sharing of thoughts. Then hugs are passed around before the goodbyes are finally said, and everyone goes to bed feeling full.
There is a joy so innate in that—in the gathering of people. Something so sacred. The kitchen becomes a workshop, the living room becomes a temple. The conversation feels divine, the laughter purposeful—the purpose is to produce the joy, share it and pass it around because that’s what you do with your community. You share what is needed.
There are certain roles people fill in each other’s lives that carry important weight. Some that come to mind are The Teacher, The Healer. I believe The Host is an important one as well. How can you gather, if not in a space? More often than not, one or two people initiate the planning of the gathering, and it would not happen without the host(s).
Hosting reminds me that friendships truly make the world go ‘round. It fosters the communal cycle of providing for each other—it is like a gift to those you love. And if done out of authenticity, it is one that comes simply from love and appreciation, without expecting something in return. You’re simply happy to be there with everyone. But when you form a community from love, there also exists the understanding that they will give back in their own ways. Your friend brings a snack. Your friend does the dishes. Your friend wipes down the table. Your friend gifts you the exact words you feel you needed to hear. Your friend makes you laugh so hard that tears form in your eyes. Your friend will host next time, just as happy as you were to provide the space for you all to gather.
When I come together with good friends and vibrant conversation inevitably ensues, there is no room for phones at the table, or on the floor, or wherever we are seated—we have no interest in reaching for them. I do not crave distraction because I enjoy the presence. The presence is the point.
I used to host all the time, but it’s been a while. And I’ve been reflecting on the gatherings I have been a part of recently, and how I have been reminded of the magic in them: the overlapping conversations that don’t fight but intertwine with each other and are cut by the occasional cackle of laughter, the natural dispersing of friends, the smells and the sounds of an active kitchen, the movement and flow that is so natural and poetic—like a current that moves between rooms, scoots over to make room, circles up and partners up and comes back together. I remember how much joy I experience from hosting my people, and I’d like to bring intention into doing so again.
Gatherings need space to exist. Why not be the host?
And you are such a lovely host!! Some of my most favorite memories as of late take place in your home ❤️