Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of spending 3 jam-packed days, with interesting people from around the world, over delicious food, at the Common Ground Summit '25, in Kauaʻi
Two weeks ago I had the pleasure of spending 3 jam-packed days, with interesting people from around the world, over delicious food, at the Common Ground Summit '25, in Kauaʻi. The overall theme of the gathering was "Our Place in the Future" and in many conversations on and off stage we looked at our responsibility to create a kinder, more equitable, and regenerative future. And very aligned with what Jen and I think about on a daily basis, our commitments to place. The one we are from, we live or work at, and the ones we travel to. And how our actions could leave those places better than we found them.
I joined a panel called "Art of Place" that explored how creativity can honor what is rooted in a place while carrying memory, evoking connection, and inviting renewal through perspectives spanning visual art, film, design, and hospitality. And of course, I have thoughts on all of this. But I also took so many things with me that new and old friends from this “un-conference” shared during our time together.
Some of the things that stuck with me most were, the duality of “We are all in this together” paired with the story of one person dancing in the park, when at first, everyone might wonder what the hell they are doing, but soon after, everyone is dancing, reminded me how important it is to start small, to create a ripple effect. And that even if my own actions might seem insignificant in the grand scheme of awful this world has been throwing at us lately, it still matters. And it can grow, just like the stone wall, Peleke Flores from Mālama Hulē‘ia references, built by a community coming together, yet laid thoughtfully, one rock at a time.
I was reminded that thinking differently is not enough. We need to be different. And hope, while important, can not be our strategy. We need action!
But that action should come from a place of listening first. The brilliant Mehana Vaughn (Author or Kaiāulu: Gathering Tides), reminded us of the importance of letting the place lead. An example was to think of water not just as a resource but a relationship. I am always in awe of this indigenous way of thinking about land, not in the way I grew up knowing, as something own-able, but instead as that which feeds us, with an immense responsibility to care for it. A symbiotic system that can be so rich and rewarding if done in the right way. And places like Waipā, show us how it is possible to return to such ways, and take care of a whole community and place at the same time. It’s such an honor we get to call them our partner in bringing our new Immersions, the idea of combining travel and philanthropy to live together.
But back to my panel, Art of place. As a guest in so many places myself, I have always tried to be very mindful of how I show up personally, but starting Travaras, the added responsibility of considering how we show places to others became very important. Hawaiʻi has turned into such a media cliché, often shown only as the Disneyfied version, with resorts and Waikiki luxury. Which, of course, lead to a specific type of vacation dreaming, and guests coming for restoration and entertainment, without ever considering the land and its peoples. All while the rich culture and beauty beyond the palm-lined beaches gets ignored. Therefore, I believe, it matters greatly what image tourism is trying to sell. And what truths we are telling people. At Travaras, we always want to lead with education and inspire our guests to show up with curiosity and care. Not entitlement.
We owe each place respect. To me that means, showing it with authenticity in mind. But at the same time, this respect requires us to know what you can and can not show. While I write the occasional newsletter or story on our website, sharing my thoughts, I would never feel comfortable speaking about a culture that isn’t mine. Instead, our goal is to feature the real culture keepers, and allow them to share just as much or as little of their stories and practices, they feel comfortable sharing. I do believe that this knowledge can save our planet as much as our own lost selves. But it matters to me to always consider what we are allowed to give away. It matters to be given permission.
