The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters

by Priya Parker

Gatherings crackle and flourish when real thought goes into them, when (often invisible) structure is baked into them, and when a host has the curiosity, willingness, and generosity of spirit to try.

When you skip asking yourself what the purpose of your birthday party is in this specific year, for where you are at this present moment in your life, for example, you forsake an opportunity for your gathering to be a source of growth, support, guidance, and inspiration tailored to the time in which you and others find yourselves. You squander a chance for your gathering to help, and not just amuse, you and others.

Ichi-go ichi-e. The master told me it roughly translates to “one meeting, one moment in your life that will never happen again.”

“We could meet again, but you have to praise this moment because in one year, we’ll have a new experience, and we will be different people and will be bringing new experiences with us, because we are also changed.”

Think of what you want to be different because you gathered, and work backward from that outcome.

You will have begun to gather with purpose when you learn to exclude with purpose. When you learn to close doors.

trying not to offend, you fail to protect the gathering itself and the people in it.

When I talk about generous exclusion, I am speaking of ways of bounding a gathering that allow the diversity in it to be heightened and sharpened, rather than diluted in a hodgepodge of people.

Mac says one of the reasons party guests often end up gravitating to the kitchen is that people instinctively seek out smaller spaces as the group dwindles in order to sustain the level of the density.

Chill is a miserable attitude when it comes to hosting gatherings.

Etiquette allows people to gather because they are the same. Pop-up rules allow people to gather because they are different—yet open to having the same experience.

In a world of infinite choices, choosing one thing is the revolutionary act.

But every time people gather, they are being brought into the opportunity to help one another, to do what they couldn’t do or think up or heal alone.

Good controversy is the kind of contention that helps people look more closely at what they care about, when there is danger but also real benefit in doing so. To

What do you need to feel safe here? What do you need from this group to be willing to take a risk in this conversation today?

Accepting the impermanence of a gathering is part of the art.

They will do sixty-minute lectures with a thousand doctors in the room and have them turn to the person next to them, try to connect briefly and deeply by looking into their eyes in silence, and then do a guided visualization imagining that other person getting old and frail and weak. And then the monks will ask, “What does that do to your awareness and your relationship to this person you have just met?” Koshin said. “People are weeping. It’s incredible.”

When done well, openings and closings often mirror one another. Just as before your opening there should be a period of ushering, so with closings there is a need to prepare people for the end. This is not ushering so much as last call.

Looking inward is about taking a moment to understand, remember, acknowledge, and reflect on what just transpired—and to bond as a group one last time. Turning outward is about preparing to part from one another and retake your place in the world.

meaning-making at the end is crucial. What transpired here? And why does that matter?

What of this world do I want to bring back to my other worlds?

“Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning.”

“May the source of peace grant you peace, and grant peace to all who mourn.”