What a "Creative Reset" With 40 Strangers Taught Me

I've always thought of creativity as a solo act. I find my flow state writing alone, or taking photos on a quiet walk by myself. And while I love spending time with other people who appreciate art, the idea of networking with other "creatives" has always given me hives.

So imagine my skepticism when I got an invitation from Soho House to spend a weekend away with 40 strangers — all taking part in a "creative reset" full of conversation, wellness activities, and moments of intentional rest. The trip, I learned, was a Cities Without Houses Weekender, specifically tailored for members of Soho House who live in places without a physical property (like my home base of San Francisco).

I was familiar with Soho House, but I didn't know exactly what membership actually entails; to outsiders, the organization, which describes itself as a "club for creatives," might seem exclusive and elusive. While I remained skeptical, I was intrigued. And never being someone to turn down an opportunity to travel, I packed my bags.

Although I was grateful my partner was able to join as a plus one, my nerves were still buzzing as I walked up to San Diego's Hotel Lafayette. The group was convening there to all drive down together to Valle de Guadalupe, a wine region in Baja, Mexico. The minute we started chatting with Soho House staff and the other members, though, my anxiety melted away. The people I found myself talking to weren't pretentious or cliquish; they were just looking forward to a weekend away like I was.

Over the course of the next three days, I learned that group travel with strangers can be extremely rewarding. Of course, given that Soho House is centered on curating vibes, it was no surprise that the planning of the entire weekend was impeccable. The setting was a dream: we stayed at Banyan Tree Veya, an exquisitely designed resort perched atop Valle de Guadalupe's vineyard-strewn hills. The whole region is known as "Mexico's Napa," and I could see why, with its well-designed tasting rooms and sumptuous sunsets. There were sound baths, and yoga sessions, and happy hours, and mezcal tastings. There were also moments of unexpected joy and connection with people I would have never met otherwise — the most surprising aspect of the whole trip.

It should be noted that it is a privilege to be able to attend a weekend like this. Soho House membership itself is not cheap (Cities Without Houses members pay anywhere from $4,300 to $4,950 annually, though members under 27 pay about half that price), and the trips are an additional cost. But there were learnings throughout the weekend that are applicable to any type of creative reset or group trip. Here are the three main lessons I took away from my time with Soho House.

This one should be a given on a trip with strangers, but I'm not often in a setting where I don't know anyone else. At parties, I'd rather stick to the people I know than introduce myself to someone new. But whenever you sign up for something based around a communal experience, whether that's a community art class, a trash pick-up in your neighborhood, or a speed-dating event, there's an opportunity to reimagine how you approach strangers.

Especially on group trips, there's a melting of usual social norms, and people are genuinely excited to say hello. I was surprised by how open I was with the other folks right off the bat, jumping into inside jokes and talking about everything from politics to breakups. I derive so much meaning in my life from my friendships and relationships; sometimes I forget that there's always space to expand — and sometimes that means you have to take the first step in being vulnerable.

It's a lesson that I'll be taking into my next yoga class, when the instructor implores us to introduce ourselves to someone new (a suggestion I tend to ignore). A smile at a grocery store, a conversation at the dog park: these are all opportunities to be inspired by the simple act of connection.

On a group trip where an itinerary is in place, it can be hard to tap out early or to skip an event. But what made this truly a "creative reset" for me was sleeping a lot (I got at least nine hours of sleep each night), and not pushing myself to do more just because of FOMO.

Creativity, I was reminded, is contingent upon giving yourself the time and energy to create. Writing, editing, and brainstorming, day after day, can deplete the part of me that easily accesses my aforementioned flow state.

But disconnecting (and spending intentional time away from my phone) allowed me to feel as if that cup were refilling itself. Despite the go-go-go of a weekend trip, I returned back home feeling ready, even excited, for the work week ahead. It reminded me that, even at home, I need to carve out time to be by myself, to physically rest, and to say no sometimes. During the course of the weekend, too, being honest with myself as to when I needed a break from the group meant that when I was cracking jokes with new pals, I was present and able to show up as my full self.

Which brings me to the creativity of it all. Yes, it was inspiring to talk to filmmakers, visual artists, and creative directors. But it sparked joy to simply learn from new folks. I was delighted by one woman's travel outfit, a delicious mix of lace-lined bloomers and a patterned top, something I'd never choose to wear myself. And I loved listening to strangers' playlists, discovering new music in genres I usually don't listen to. Sometimes, being inspired by others is simply about surrounding yourself by people who think differently, live in different places, and do different things than you. Especially into our 30s, it's easy to stick to the people we know; I've found that my social circle has contracted more than expanded in the past couple of years.

In the unwinding of the weekend, I was also inspired by the beauty in the small collective moments. In the breath we all took before diving into a beautiful meal, or in the sound of a new friend's laugh. The opportunity to create space for inspiration and connection is all around us. It might look like walking up to that stranger at a party, or signing up for a cooking class. Take it from me: that initial flurry of butterflies is worth it.

Lena Felton (she/her) is a senior director of special projects at PS, where she oversees sponsored packages, tentpole projects, and editorial partnerships. Previously, she was an editor at The Washington Post, where she led a team covering issues of gender and identity. She has been working in journalism since 2017, during which time her focus has been feature writing and editing and elevating historically underrepresented voices. Lena has worked for The Atlantic, InStyle, So It Goes, and more.