nothing feels more wabi-sabi than hosting.
when we invite guests into our homespace, we are exposing our imperfections – the chipped dinnerware and mismatched chairs, the stained tablecloth and dirty dishes. and yet, this is exactly what we celebrate. the vulnerability. the comfort. the togetherness.
hosting guests at the dinner table may very well be my love language. there’s something about creating an ambience where, when guests arrive, they feel at peace. candles lit, music playing in the background, wine glasses filled. my only wish for them is that they can let go, be present, and leave with a sense of wholeness.
i’ve learned through living in a tiny space that hosting guests is not limited by square footage. on chilly nights, the table comes inside. when weather permits, the table goes outside. the point is that we are together, eating and drinking and laughing, sometimes crying.
i wish i could say that when we host people for dinner, i could whip up whatever-have-you and just sit at a bare table, making for an easy prep and clean-up. but that wouldn’t be true to me. i love through food. i express my care through setting a table. i find peace in the prep, likening it to a soulful journey that ends with a humble meal among friends.
i host with intention, and hope that by doing so, i am offering a sense of reprieve – that when you enter into this space, however imperfect, you are being taken care of.
…one glass of wine at at time.