The Art of Gathering

“Gatherings that please everyone occur, but they rarely thrill. Gatherings that are willing to be alienating—which is different from being alienating—have a better chance to dazzle.” 

A key feature of a gathering’s purpose, and one which helps distinguish it from a mere category, is that it should be specific enough to be exclusive. The notion of a “networking event” may be wide enough to accommodate almost anyone, but Parker would expect it to lead to an ineffectual gathering. However, the more specific notion of a networking event for business leaders under 30 with interest in social justice excludes some individuals from participation but is more likely to lead to a meaningful gathering.

“A disputable purpose, on the other hand, begins to be a decision filter.” 

When a gathering’s purpose is contestable, it is another sign that it is specific enough to be useful. For example, it is unlikely that anyone would contest the general idea of holding a birthday party to celebrate another year of an individual’s life. Yet a more specific concept, like a birthday party to celebrate the past year’s failures, sparks a series of questions to define why that theme was chosen and whether its goal is to let go of mistakes, to reset one’s goals for the future, or simply to laugh together with friends.

“The desire to keep doors open—to not offend, to maintain a future opportunity—is a threat to gathering with a purpose.” 

If gatherings are too welcoming out of a desire to be courteous, then they are likely to be too general to be meaningful. Setting limits on a gathering encourages organizers to be intentional. For instance, if organizers set a cut-off age for participation in a networking event to 30, there may be questions as to why this limit was set. Responding means developing a clear rationale for the limit, consequently defining the gathering’s purpose in greater detail.

“I have learned that far too often in the name of inclusion and generosity—two values I care about deeply—we fail to draw boundaries about who belongs and why.” 

Parker reverses commonplace ideas about exclusivity and inclusivity in gatherings. Whereas inclusivity is rightfully held up as a goal, she suggests that the concept is often misused, leading to poorly defined purposes. In other words, overly generalizing the purpose of a gathering may incorporate more people into it, but it will fail to engage them meaningfully with a purpose. And by failing to engage them, fewer people are effectively included in discussions or relationships that are connected to a potential purpose.

“[D]iversity is a potentiality that needs to be activated. It can be used or it can just be there.” 

In her defense of why gatherings should be exclusive, Parker takes on the concept of diversity. She rejects the notion that opening a gathering up to as many people as possible automatically equates to diversity. She implies that diversity is not simply a factor of who is there but also what they do. To pay more than lip service to the concept, the potential diversity within a group of people must be awakened by creating active engagement between them and the purpose of a gathering.

“I urge those I advise to own their power and lift a hand to the wheel. Time and again, they resist.” 

Parker advocates for a hands-on approach to organizing and leading gatherings. She acknowledges that this style runs counter to widespread beliefs that hosts should interfere as little as possible. In addition, she is aware that many individuals are uncomfortable with and bewildered by the idea of overtly directing gatherings, and so throughout the book she endeavors to provide practical guidance.

“A ubiquitous strain of twenty-first century culture is infecting our gatherings: being chill. The desire to host while being noninvasive.” 

The concept of being chill is a way of branding the hands-off, low-interference style of organizing gatherings. Parker rejects this approach in no uncertain terms, characterizing it with language like “infecting” that presents it like some kind of disease. She urges readers to push against this pervasive approach, continually providing evidence and examples of how a more active form of organization and leadership leads to more purposeful and meaningful gatherings.

“Who doesn’t want their guests to come away from a gathering having gotten to know one another? But the question, once again, is whether you are willing to use your authority and stick your neck out in order to make those connections happen.” 

Parker’s concept of generous authority is one of the clearest examples of how she resists the notion of being chill when organizing gatherings. She calls to readers with an implicit challenge to use their authority for good, to increase connections between attendees in a substantive way. She acknowledges that asking people to actively engage with a gathering’s purpose requires effort and risk-taking on the part of both organizers and guests, but she assures readers that the results are worth it.

“A gathering’s blandness is a symptom of a disease. We must treat the disease. And what is the disease? That the gathering makes no effort to do what the best gatherings do: transport us to a temporary alternative world.” 

Calling a successful gathering a kind of passage into another world gets at the deep way Parker thinks about her topic. It also provides a clue as to why she is so insistent that participants in a gathering engage with its purpose. Once again, she utilizes the language of disease to characterize failed gatherings, but she implies that events that encourage substantive engagement with a well-developed purpose are transformative, bringing participants to new insights and relationships.

“The problem is that more and more of us do not live in closed circles of like-minded, similarly raised people.” 

Parker distinguishes between the concepts of etiquette and pop-up rules. Citing some history about the development of rules of etiquette since the 18th century, she notes that they were intended to establish fixed, unchanging behavioral guidelines for certain homogenous classes of people, across situations. Since most people do not navigate a world of people who are so homogenous, she does not believe rules of etiquette adequately facilitate meaningful social interactions.

“If the standards of etiquette are fixed, imperious, and exclusionary, pop-up rules have the power to flip these traits on their head, creating the possibility of more experimental, humble, and democratic—and satisfying!—gatherings.” 

If etiquette is class- and demographic-dependent, then Parker’s pop-up rules are context-dependent. Since pop-up rules are by nature meant to be temporary, limited, and practiced by all present at a gathering, she regards them as fundamentally more democratic and less imposing. This is the case even if the pop-up rules seem distinctly different from typical behavior outside of the gathering.

“There is a certain kind of fun in trying something for a bounded moment. The kind of restriction that might feel oppressive if permanent can seem compelling and intriguing when it applies sometimes, as part of a conscious effort to create that temporary alternative world.” 

Parker also argues that pop-up rules are imbued with an experimental, playful spirit that supports egalitarian goals. The limited nature of pop-up rules makes them theatrical in a sense, like roles that participants will play for a short time without threatening their sense of self. Pop-up rules are also collaborative; participants of a gathering, by mutually agreeing to the rules, do their part to create a shared experience that makes the gathering unique and distinct from the world outside.

“Because so much gathering advice comes from experts in food and décor rather than from facilitators, that advice almost invariably focuses on preparing things instead of preparing people.” 

Parker distinguishes her own philosophical approach to organizing and leading gatherings from other authorities who focus more on the visible aspects of events (she names Martha Stewart as a prominent example). She criticizes this approach as centered too much on superficial aspects of gatherings. Her own goal is to keep the attention at any gathering focused on its intangible purpose and on how that purpose can build and strengthen connections between people—whether the gathering is a modest dinner party or a high-level political summit.

“The most important part of your invitation, though, is what it signals to your guests about your gathering and what it asks of them. And one way to send your guests a signal is to give your gathering a specific name.” 

The concept of priming as outlined in the book suggests that organizers take advantage of the time between asking people to attend and actually commencing a gathering to prepare them for its purpose. In Parker’s eyes, this means doing more than just sending an invitation. On the other hand, even an invitation can be useful, particularly if it participates in making meaning; an event name, for instance, can help signal a gathering’s purpose and tone to invitees.

“However vital it may seem to start with this housekeeping, you are missing an opportunity to sear your gathering’s purpose into the minds of your guests. And sometimes you are actually undermining that purpose by revealing to your guests that you do not, in fact, care about the things you claim to care about as much as you profess.”

The opening of a gathering is extremely important because the audience is attentive, anticipating something significant, and likely to remember that moment. One of the practical tips that Parker provides is to not begin a gathering with logistics (such as agenda items or location information), as is common practice. Instead, she suggests starting with a gesture that emphasizes a gathering’s purpose, such as a warm and sincere welcome to honor a dinner party guest, or a small-group meet-and-greet discussion on a relevant theme at a networking event.

“What I learned from 15 Toasts is that while we tend to give stump speeches at so many gatherings of consequence, it is people’s sprouts that are most interesting—and perhaps most prone to making a group feel closely connected enough to attempt big things together.” 

The 15 Toasts technique that Parker developed is designed to encourage participants in a gathering to open up and share personal insights relevant to its purpose. Moreover, it is explicitly meant to prompt them to get past predictable responses, general introductions, business pitches, and other well-rehearsed stump speeches. Putting participants on the spot—catching them somewhat off guard—is more likely to nudge them to take a risk and share something novel and insightful (sprout speeches).

“It is in gathering that we meet those who could help us, and it is in gathering that we pretend not to need them, because we have it all figured out.” 

15 Toasts also encourages participants to show their vulnerability. Since moments of vulnerability are more likely to reveal needs, problems individuals face, and anecdotes that would benefit from being shared, they are also more likely to lead to the kind of transformative collaboration that Parker thinks gatherings can ideally achieve. She recognizes that reaching this level of intimate sharing can be difficult for many people, but she promotes 15 Toasts and similar techniques as ways to shift them out of their comfort zones.

“What we came to find over time was that the best themes were not the sweet ones, like happiness or romance, but rather the ones that had darker sides to them: fear, Them, borders, strangers. The ones that let people show sides of themselves that were weak, that were confused and unprocessed, that were morally complicated.”

Parker encourages participants in many gatherings to not only share their vulnerabilities but also their darker sides, including their fears, confusions, prejudices, and other potentially negative thoughts. Embracing these topics can similarly point to unfulfilled needs, unsolved problems, and unresolved issues that might be productively tackled in the safe, shared space of a gathering. However, Parker concedes that this level of sharing and intimacy might not be necessary or appropriate at every type of gathering, and urges readers to trust their own judgment.

“My belief is that controversy—of the right kind, and in the hands of a good host—can add both energy and life to your gatherings as well as be clarifying. It can help you use gatherings to answer big questions: what you want to do, what you stand for, who you are. Good controversy can make a gathering matter.” 

Controversy is a third potentially negative element Parker encourages within gatherings, alongside vulnerability and darkness. Like those other two elements, she argues that controversy is not something to be avoided, as is so often recommended, but actually a means to achieve transformative insights. Yet she is careful to note that not every gathering needs to stir controversy, and she also distinguishes “good controversy,” which supports goals such as these, from mere disagreement or debating without the goal of collaborating.

“Good controversy helps us reexamine what we hold dear: our values, priorities, nonnegotiables. Good controversy is generative rather than preservationist. It leads to something better than the status quo.”

Good controversy is most productively brought into gatherings where participants are working together to solve a shared problem or issue. By opening up discussions to topics that participants do not agree on, gatherings can raise meaningful issues to work on or ways of engaging with people in a new way around a shared purpose. In this sense, introducing controversy can actually strengthen connections between people rather than severing them.

“Issues have heat when they affect or threaten people’s fears, needs, and a sense of self. And when they poke at a source of power. Touching on these elements with care can produce transformative gatherings, because you can dig below the typical conversation into the bedrock of values.” 

Parker is aware that powerful unwritten codes of social behavior make many people reluctant to share disagreements. Given the potential benefits of good controversy, she suggests that leading a gathering toward areas of potential disagreement is one way that active, generous authority can be most useful. Hosts should be on alert for areas of “heat”—those topics that might be touched on in discussions, which then quickly divert away from them. Encouraging participants to slow down on those topics can generate good controversy.

“Accepting the impermanence of a gathering is part of the art. When we vaguely try to extend our gatherings, we are not only living in denial, we are also depriving our gathering of the kind of closing that gives it the chance of enduring in people’s hearts.” 

The Art of Gathering places just as much emphasis on properly closing an event as it does on preparing for and opening one. Parker walks readers through common mistakes made when concluding gatherings, and one of them is indulging the reluctance to end. This may happen because participants seem to be actively engaged and disinclined to ending, or because hosts are averse to taking charge and announcing the end out of courtesy. Regardless, Parker argues that a gathering ought to end on an intentional and thoughtful note that upholds its purpose as much as a careful opening.

“Looking back, though, is just one aspect of turning inward. Another is connecting the tribe one last time. To have an affirming moment of recalling not what we did here but who we were here.” 

The Art of Gathering proposes that the most effective closings take stock of what has been accomplished at a gathering, whether that is developing an innovative solution to a business problem or honoring a guest at a banquet. Beyond that, however, Parker advises acknowledging what kind of personal connections and transformations occurred at the gathering. What did people learn from each other? What new relationships have been formed? What old ones have been strengthened? In both cases, such closings prompt participants to reflect or turn inward.