Last year, I invited Faye and Bergan to what seemed like a random dinner at my friend Mike’s bar and café in QC. I didn’t know then that this one invitation would lead to weddings, jam sessions, art shows, gigs, and friendships I couldn’t have planned.
It began with Mike’s skill with the sound system.
His café is closed on Mondays, so we’d sometimes hang out there. Mike sets up home theaters and audio systems for a living, so—as you might expect—the café sounds really good. When I played some Project Yazz songs through his system, it did more than justice to their already magical music.
My first thought was: Faye and Bergan should hear this.
At the time, I was only beginning to rekindle my friendship with them, so inviting them to dinner felt a little unnatural. Situations like this send my overthinking into overdrive and trigger my anxiety. So I pulled out “Let’s have dinner” from my Making Friends Toolkit and used a simple trick to help myself get past the anxiety and just send the invitation.
Ironically, I’ve found that when I layer an invitation with several intentions—especially when I believe it might add value to someone else—I’m more likely to follow through. The important thing is making sure it doesn’t become transactional.
So after organizing my thoughts, I sent Bergan a message and invited them over.
To my surprise, it went swimmingly. We found a date, and I told them I wanted them to meet some of my friends and simply hang out. He said yes. We had dinner. And from that one evening, we ended up making so many things together.
During dinner, I finally revealed why I had invited them.
It was probably around August, and Athena spent her birthday month in Germany pursuing her master’s degree in public health. We still hadn’t celebrated her birthday, so I wanted to prepare a nice dinner for her—and surprise her with our guests for the night: Project Yazz.
We had been fans of theirs for a long time, so sharing a table with them still felt like a big deal.
But, as usual, I had layered the dinner with a few more intentions. I wanted Faye and Bergan to hear their art and music with Mike’s sound system. If I remember correctly, Mike was also celebrating something around that time. And I wanted to introduce them to Kurt, who was preparing for his wedding.
It was packed, I know. But all those little reasons carried me through the anxiety.
And I remember thinking afterward: Wow, this actually worked.
Months before that dinner, I remember telling Kurt, “I want you to have a nice wedding. Wouldn’t it be great if Project Yazz played?”
“Of course,” he said. “But how are we going to make that happen?”
“I don’t know either,” I confessed. “But leave it to me.”
Sure, he could hire any wedding band—there are plenty out there. But wouldn’t it be more meaningful if the people playing at his wedding were people he actually knew? People he could call friends?
When Kurt’s wedding finally came, we were all happy remembering how Project Yazz had actually ended up there. Athena and I simply basked in their beautiful music like a free concert (with songs they will probably never sing again - one night only).
That night went wonderfully very easily. Project Yazz more than delivered, and I could tell they were having so much fun too.
But if I’m being honest, what stayed with me most, on top of the already beautiful wedding of Kurt, was something Bergan said to me and Athena. He asked if we could stay close to the stage while they played. According to him, seeing us there made the performance less pressuring, more enjoyable—less like work. EXACTLY!
That stayed with me.
What if we could find a way to make work feel less like work?
Not because I think everything should be easy or fun, but because I’ve seen that it’s possible. Maybe not all the time. But if we can make it happen more often, why not try?
So far, I think that’s what I’ve been trying to explore—and perhaps even prove. Because yes, I really believe it’s possible.
Many things have happened since that seemingly random dinner.
Bergan and I began jamming. Together, we supported and hosted a Swiss drummer at The Well. Bergan led me to my first art show. I found myself jamming with musicians I deeply admire and playing my first gig at Mow’s. Project Yazz even helped us celebrate ten years of Jacob’s Well Chai.
Sometimes I wonder: Would any of those things have happened if Faye and Bergan hadn’t said yes to my crazy invitation?
And now, as I write this, we’re already cooking up something for November 8, 2026.
I don’t know yet what else might grow from it. But perhaps that’s the beautiful thing about an invitation: you don’t need to know where it will lead before you send it.