Day 1 - Open

Day 1, with a single touch

Originally written in Vietnamese by Hân, translated by Nam Taro

I was swinging back and forth between excitement and fear.

It has always been the case whenever I am about to enter a new social space. This time, waves of intense emotions arrived surprisingly early, a few weeks before The Art of Hosting even started. Anticipation came first, followed by gusts of anxiety, then panic that made me want to turn away.

I didn’t feel ready on my way to the airport, nor did I feel ready on the bus to Bái Đính, even when I was writing down my name at the check-in table. I had no idea who I was, what I could do and what I had to even offer, nor would I be able to hold space for all the new and seemingly foreign experiences about to come. Would I be sensitive enough to notice what could change in myself, or sensitive enough to all the unspoken in the room. All while the weather didn’t cease the chilly wetness of the season.

I felt somewhat at ease noticing some faces of friends. Warm hugs comforted my soul, giving me the courage to just walk into the training room. The space was huge with two warmly lit concentric rings of chairs and cushions. The same image I saw a long time ago from a friend’s photo, but at the time, oh boy, that was surreal! I was here, together with around 90 fellow participants, in awe of the grandness of this experience. For a flash, I saw the tiny piece that is “me” floating in this big universe with my own fragments of anxiety when each member of the big circle began introducing themselves briefly. We were invited to share in a few sentences “Where is home for you?”. My heart shook hearing voices here and there, “home is wherever I am” – This person must feel really comfortable with themselves. I found my voice cracking through my anxiety, “Home is where love is.”

We were invited to move around the space, greet new people with the dialect we often use in our “home” and matched up with people in small groups who shared a certain trait of similarity. Strange faces slowly turned familiar when we found out a lot of similarities with different people: Some were from Sài Gòn, some loved spicy food, some were freelancers.

At one point, we were asked to identify ourselves as “introverted” or “extroverted”, I was surprised to find out that lots of people flocked to the “introverted” area. As a sign of relief, I didn’t find myself alone in this feeling of overwhelm, a lot of others must be mutual in this experience too. I felt seen, comforted and slowly opened up.

I gradually got the point of the “4-Fold Practice” during its introduction – “Self-host, host others, be hosted, and community hosts itself”, and kept wondering where I was in this model. I recognized anxiety in every fold as I looked.

Self-host:

Taking care of oneself could be the one I was the best at, even though I was not entirely comfortable. I noticed moments of self-doubts and self-criticisms still lingering inside my head everyday.

Host others:

Taking care of others – Be a host! This felt no stranger to me but thinking about hosting an event like this, for this many people made me nauseous.

Be hosted:

To be taken care of – Be a good participant. I want to allow myself to be cared for, being a part of the community without trying to prove myself or freaking I cannot offer my best articulation.

Community hosts itself:

Is it the same feeling of being supported and cared for I had years ago in a retreat center?

As I was wondering about the four folds, we were invited to challenge ourselves for the next few days by practicing what we felt was the most distant. I was not ready at all. While people were flocking to sign up for the different roles to practice, I stood back as the empty slots were quickly filled up. I couldn’t help but notice my own judgment: “Am I being too passive?”

That night, when everyone else seemed like they knew what they would love to learn, what role they would want to be coached on, I chose to be an observer. Fear and anxiety bubbled up as I found myself to look like “an outlier”.

During the night harvesting session, I witnessed a group of people sitting together and sense-made what they observed throughout the first day. People took turns to name their feelings and what they noticed. Despite a mixture of confusion at first, I saw people slowly wrapping their heads around what had happened and gaining clarity amidst uncertainty. I wanted to be a part of that process…but I still needed some motivation.

Magic showed up as T. sat down behind me and put her warm hand on my back all the while I was fidgeting with anxiety. Beautiful and touching as that moment was, she whispered: “Don’t you worry dear, I am right here”. The gentle touch was the push that made me stand up and sign my name for the role of “Day 1 Storyteller” – writing this piece for all of you who are reading, knowing so sure that I had had enough to lean in and take courage for the coming days.

With a single touch.