No name
Soul level hospitality
Lately I’m feeling a bit haunted.
The more I get deeper into my experience work, investigations on the future of the industry, art that we need so much more of,
The more success I have in eliciting joy, meaning, good vibes, transformation in my work, the more I encounter a….
The more that I see in so many people, places, a…
darkness.
I’ve been wanting to write about this for a while but it’s a bit… hard to articulate.
I’ll do my best for you.
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Lately an image keeps coming to mind from a movie that I love, Spirited Away.
If you haven’t seen it: See it immediately. Original Japanese VO with English subs.
I won’t give away the scene or describe it here.
But just know that while I’m typing, this image keeps coming to mind.
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This darkness pops up in meetings, in the people I work with.
My friends.
You can’t go too far into the positive side without experiencing its opposite.
I can design for joy, rest, quality time. But the people that need these things the most are the ones who don’t have it.
When I build ‘community,’ I meet so many people’s loneliness head on.
Camaraderie, as I always say, is the new luxury.
Hospitality is nothing without warmth. Resonance can’t happen without a bit of vulnerability.
Transformation is often sparked by unexpected, unplanned moments. And a lot of people in today’s world don’t have the tools or bandwidth to receive those.
I’m in meetings about how to reimagine hotel lobbies, why experiences aren’t diner menu items, how to ground experiential creativity in theory, tested research and insight.
Trust the process, I say. Value the creative side as much as the business side.
I cannot design any of these ways of experiencing without intimately knowing their opposite.
I can’t imagine the world’s best hotel without thinking of an fluorescent hallway on floor six, or an entirely empty lobby with a horrible smooth jazz soundtrack.
It’s not just both sides of the coin,
It’s the entire object, spinning. All edges, grooves.
Faces.
Shadows.
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It’s a bit overwhelming, this darkness.
It even shows up in some of the best feedback I’ve ever gotten, as the specter of what I’m contending with:
”And when I started going… I could actually believe on that different perspective and that I can handle dark moments. Hearing about people’s stories made me connect with them but also with myself more and more. And today I had the feeling of being interested and curious about where life is going to take me, and it might sound small but it’s a huge thing for me. I don’t think I ever felt this way.”
There is no message that I can ever text back to something like this that will adequately speak to this person’s experience or provide further comfort that what we’re all up against is…
not ever going to not be there.
Have you ever stopped to think why I’m specifically good at all of this?
I’ve seen a lot of darkness take over people in my life.
It’s why I show up the way that I do.
Why this is all my calling.
People sense it. It’s why they feel like they can text me like this.
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The research we’re doing at AMARIMA keeps confirming this. We’ll share more soon.
Meta trends - like a lot of people are going on these epic adventures lately, quests.
Moving beyond a beach vacation towards a journey so that they really feel alive.
The constant questions I get about designing for romance, connection. Because who doesn’t want or need more of either?
How sometimes, people don’t even know what they want, or need, anymore.
Or want to. Or have time to.
”I don’t need you to personalize it. Choose it for me, all I want to do is feel it. I need to feel.”
You don’t become excellent at living without experiencing enough people who are explicitly unwilling or unable to…
live well.
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Like I’ve said, some of the experts in the things that we all need more of are also in dire need of getting better at those things themselves.
I just finished writing feedback to an expert in communication that they need to be better at communicating.
Lightly suggesting to a friend I know who is a literal expert in fun that they need to build more fun into their own life.
Why is the other side of the coin always there? Sometimes so obviously?
Why can’t we all just stay in the light?
Or do we just have to see the dark side of the moon, too.
Is it a feature in all of this?
Maybe we can’t ever escape it.
Maybe we have to accept the haunting.
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I’ve had a week of some strange happenings - my free initiatives that I love so much not feeling worth my effort anymore.
I’ve made hard decisions to stop investing in certain things that I simply can’t invest in anymore.
I’ve had to turn my kitchen table into a detective’s evidence board just to understand what one new project is truly asking of me and my team.
I’ve also heard,
“You have a very specific kind of taste that I want more of in my life, Jenna.”
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I keep going, even with the darkness hanging out, over there.
Terrorizing my best people. The next person I’ll meet.
Causing havoc with even the most amazing plans.
It’s a haunting, of sorts.
Inescapable.
All the more reason to first just sit with it.
Draw the lines.
Recognize that it’ll always be there, in a way.
The best people I know in experiences, hospitality, creativity - sit with it.
Pour it a glass of wine.
Take it for a walk.
Love,
Jenna
