When I travel, everything changes: new city, new room, new rhythm. I find it’s easy to lose my center in the midst of all that movement. Over time, I’ve learned I need something simple and consistent to stay grounded, so I created a small ritual I use every time I arrive in a hotel room.
My wife, Laura, came up with the idea and called it a “soul box,” which is what we’ve called it ever since. I unpack a piece of cloth and place two images where I will see them easily. The cloth is one of our dinner napkins; that little visual nuance brings back the good vibes of mealtime with my family. One of the images is a picture of my family. The other is something I find deeply inspiring. I also set a small electric candle in front of them that stays on the entire time I’m there. It takes less than two minutes, but it changes the feel of the entire room. It becomes mine. More importantly, I become more myself inside it.
For me, the second image is a goddess I am particularly fond of, Parashakti. That’s personal. The practice itself isn’t. What matters is not what the image is, but what it evokes in you. It’s about placing something in your environment that reconnects you to what you care about most and who you are at your best.
If you’re Jewish, it could be a passage from the Torah, a Star of David, or a photo tied to your heritage and identity. If you’re Muslim, it might be a piece of Arabic calligraphy, a verse from the Qur’an, or an image that reminds you of devotion and discipline. If you’re Christian, it could be Christ, a cross, or a line of scripture that anchors your faith. If you’re agnostic or atheist, it might be a quote that captures your philosophy, an image of someone you admire, or maybe a natural landscape that evokes a special memory. The form is flexible. The intention is what matters.
What I’ve come to appreciate is that staying grounded on the road isn’t automatic. It requires a deliberate act. Without it, it’s easy to drift into a kind of functional mode where you’re getting things done but not fully connected. With it, there is a quiet continuity that carries from home into whatever city I happen to be in. This small setup reminds me who I am beyond the work I’m there to do. It brings the people I love into the room with me. It keeps something essential present, no matter how far I’ve traveled. And that, more than anything else, helps me show up the way I want to.
“The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.”
– Ferdinand Foch
