Jason Hollis on Reinventing a Nashville Landmark, Building The Eighth Room, and the Art of Taking Risks

social62538
Jul 17
23 min read

Jason Hollis, The Eighth Room - Nashville, TN.

“One moment that really sticks with me was when we pulled up the master of a Jackson 5 song — ‘Ben.’ We were able to isolate Michael Jackson’s vocal track and just sit there, listening to a young Michael sing. At the end of the take, you hear the producer in his headphones say, ‘That was really good, Michael. Let’s do one more.’ And Michael goes, ‘Nah, that was the one.’ Moments like that were just surreal.”

Posted by: Athority Medium Magazine

Written by: Yitzi Weiner

I had the pleasure of talking with Jason Hollis. Jason is a Nashville-based visual artist, music producer, and entrepreneur whose multifaceted career has spanned several decades and intersected with influential figures and movements in the American music and entertainment industries. Known professionally as simply “Hollis,” he is the owner of The Eighth Room, a reimagined live music venue located in the former Douglas Corner Café, a site historically significant to Nashville’s music scene.

Raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, Hollis’s early fascination with music was sparked by television and vinyl records, particularly the animated bands of children’s shows and the stylized chaos of the Muppets’ Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. His father’s record collection and access to turntables provided a soundtrack to a childhood marked by independence. With his parents separated and his mother often working, Hollis found companionship and inspiration in music. By his teenage years, he was working at Zeagler Music, one of the largest music stores in the South. At just 15, he became one of the store’s top salespeople and developed relationships with professional musicians and industry veterans, including members of the Jackson family and session players with deep roots in New Orleans jazz and R&B.

Hollis moved to Los Angeles immediately after high school, at age 17, hoping to break into the music business. The city’s sprawl and competitive intensity proved overwhelming, prompting him to relocate to Nashville in 1995. At that time, Nashville’s Music Row was the epicenter of the country music industry. Hollis embedded himself in the local scene, knocking on doors and taking unpaid internships while absorbing knowledge from those already established in the business. His early roles included working for MCA and Decca Records under the direction of Tony Brown and Mark Wright, later forming close working relationships with figures such as Frank Liddell and Travis Hill.

Over time, Hollis developed a reputation for identifying and nurturing musical talent. He played a behind-the-scenes role in helping The Fray find a national platform and managed a bi-coastal label bidding war for Nashville rock band The Pink Spiders. His production and A&R instincts also extended into new media. In Los Angeles, he helped create and direct music-focused series such as Netflix’s Motown Magic and YouTube’s Best Cover Ever, collaborating with artists including Katy Perry, Keith Urban, and Pharrell Williams. One of his most formative professional experiences came during the production of Motown Magic, where he worked with the original masters of Motown classics and recorded with legendary producers and musicians.

In 2021, following a decade in Los Angeles, Hollis returned to Nashville with his wife and daughter. Initially planning to take a break, he instead became intrigued by the closure of Douglas Corner Café, a venue known for its role in launching the careers of artists such as Trisha Yearwood and Garth Brooks. Determined to preserve the location’s legacy, Hollis acquired the building and, alongside his wife Erin, transformed it into The Eighth Room. While retaining the spirit of its predecessor, the venue reflects a design and cultural vision that draws inspiration from rock and roll landmarks like The Viper Room and Max’s Kansas City. The interior incorporates vintage chandeliers, Versace wallpaper, licensed Andy Warhol prints, and Hollis’s own artwork.

The Eighth Room has quickly earned a reputation as one of Nashville’s more visually distinct and stylistically eclectic music venues. Regular visitors may encounter surprise performances from well-known artists or celebrity guests, and the venue’s aesthetic diverges sharply from the rustic, mason-jar-heavy interiors typical of many Nashville establishments. For Hollis, the space is not just a business venture, but a new creative outlet and a natural evolution of his long-standing connection to music and performance culture.

In addition to running the venue, Hollis is in the early stages of developing a branded vodka, an American lager, and a room scent spray — products that reflect his interest in building lifestyle brands that align with his identity and the vibe of The Eighth Room. His approach is rooted in a deep understanding of branding and media, shaped by years working at the intersection of music, content creation, and visual storytelling.

Known among peers for his work ethic and creative energy, Hollis often credits his success to a combination of risk-taking, mentorship, and relentless curiosity. He points to advice given by early mentors — such as the importance of listening more than speaking — as critical to his development. He also emphasizes the value of resilience, noting that his career was built not on early wins, but on sustained effort across more than a decade.

Though his professional life has included significant achievements, Hollis speaks openly about the sacrifices involved — years of low-paying jobs, long hours, and uncertain outcomes. He is also vocal about the need for mental and physical balance, incorporating meditation and walking into his daily routine as methods to manage stress and replenish creative energy.

Today, Hollis sees The Eighth Room not only as a business, but as a community hub that celebrates individuality and creativity. While he remains involved in music and other ventures, his current focus is on cultivating a space where artists and audiences can connect in unexpected and authentic ways. He continues to explore new projects while encouraging a younger generation of creatives to stay humble, stay curious, and embrace the risks that come with pursuing a passion.

Yitzi: Jason Hollis, it’s an honor to meet you. Before we dive in deep, our readers would love to learn about the origin story of Jason Hollis. Can you share with us the story of your childhood and how you grew up?

Hollis: Yitzi, likewise, my man. It’s interesting. I’ll just take you way back. It goes back to the early to mid-70s, watching children’s television. I was always obsessed with anything music-related — cartoon bands, and then the Muppets came along. They had Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem and Animal on drums. The first time I saw that, it was mind-blowing to a kid. I think that really started my journey into music.

My dad always had a lot of records from the 70s and a great turntable. There was always music playing. That kind of developed further. I got into music relatively early. My parents separated when I was young, and as an only child with a single mom working all the time, you really have to find creative outlets. We’re Gen X, so we were all latchkey kids — riding BMX bikes, hanging out in the neighborhood, and trying to fill time.

A lot of the guys I hung out with early on were musicians or interested in music. We’d always end up at the drummer’s house or the guitar player’s house, picking up things and learning. As I got a little older, into middle school, I got more serious — taking band classes and private lessons.

My mom started dating a gentleman in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, who owned a music store called Zeagler Music. It was basically the largest music store in the South, with multiple locations. That’s when I became obsessed. I had access to a music store and started working there when I was 15.

I started off cleaning band instruments, which was my way in. I’d clean in the morning, then go into the store in the afternoon. I was so enthusiastic about instruments and music. I got on the sales floor and started selling. By the end of that summer, I ended up being one of the top salesmen at the store — at 15.

I started working weekends, then during the summers I worked every day. All through high school, I did that. Through that store, I got to know not just local musicians but a lot of the big touring guys who would come in. For example, there was a gentleman named Herman Jackson and his brother Randy Jackson — Randy was one of the first judges on American Idol. They taught music lessons at Zeagler’s. Herman was a drummer and so was I, and he would take me around to different places he was playing — whether it was Ray Charles at Jazz Fest, or Chuck Berry, or Allen Toussaint.

In high school, I decided to start an A&R program at the store, which put me in touch with even more musicians. I was giving them discounts, getting them deals — that really solidified for me that this was a life decision I was going to follow.

The day after I graduated high school, I moved to Los Angeles to see if I could break into the music business. I think I was 17. LA was great, but I didn’t know anyone, and going from a structured environment to one with no structure gave me a little too much freedom. As you know, LA is huge and spread out. Trying to hyper-focus on a direction when that direction is 15 or 30 miles away, with traffic, was overwhelming.

After two years, I decided to make a move to Nashville, which was more focused. I moved here in 1995. At that time, Music Row — 16th and 17th Avenue — was the heart of it all. There were recording studios, publishing houses, all the major labels, everything on just two streets. I had a place right on Music Row and a bicycle. I’d ride up and down that street, knocking on doors and meeting people, trying to get my foot in the door.

Eventually, I started a couple of different companies, which led to me working for a major label — MCA and Decca — under the great Tony Brown and Mark Wright, who were co-presidents. Then I met Frank Liddell and Travis Hill, who really brought me into the business. From that point, it just took off.

Like anything, to be really good at something, you’re looking at a decade of sacrifice — especially back then. You had to pay your dues. There were 20-hour days, working for little or no money. I worked at a newspaper here in Nashville, running errands for the music columnist. Then you go intern for no money. After that, you might have to pick up another gig just to survive.

I was so focused and dedicated to learning. I was a sponge. I just wanted to absorb everything I could and be around music people doing music things. I did that for about 10 years before breaking out and making a few things happen.

So, in a roundabout way, it all started from the Muppets. I think that lit a fuse that carried me into creating a lifestyle for myself that’s been fun, entertaining, and — more importantly — filled with passionate hard work. Most of all, it’s been fulfilling.

Yitzi: It’s an amazing story, and Hollis, you’re an amazing storyteller. You’ve probably got some great stories from all the different projects and ventures you’ve been part of, and the bands you’ve worked with. Can you share one or two that really stand out in your mind?

Hollis: Yeah, there are a couple. I can summarize them pretty quickly. When I left Nashville at the end of the 2000s — I think it was 2001 — I was pretty dead set on going back to Los Angeles. I wanted to take everything I’d learned and apply it to a more structured model to try and get my foot in the door out there. I loved coming up in country music, but I was always a rock and roll guy. And back then, Nashville was hardcore country. That was what you were there for.

I needed to head back to LA, but on my way, I stopped in Denver to visit some friends. While I was there, a blizzard hit — more snow than I’d ever seen in my life. We were stuck in the house for probably a week. After that, I realized I hadn’t really seen much of Colorado, so I went out, caught a couple of bands, and something just hit me. I decided to stay and work with these bands.

That led to about three years of living in a basement, crashing on a couch, going back and forth between Denver and Boulder every day, developing two bands — both of which ended up breaking out and doing really well. It was one of those times when I was still young, full of energy, and had nothing to lose. I took a chance and stayed somewhere I barely knew, driven completely by passion.

Developing those acts and building something in a city I wasn’t familiar with — helping create a synergy that grew into something way bigger than I expected — that’s something I’ll never forget. It’s not something I could go back and do today, not with a wife, a family, and all the responsibilities that come with that. But back then, I had the freedom and the energy to take those kinds of risks, and I’ll always be grateful for that time.

Another story that really stands out was one of the last projects I worked on in LA before moving back to Nashville. It was a children’s cartoon series for Netflix called Motown Magic. It was geared toward kids ages six to ten and centered around classic Motown songs. I grew up listening to Motown and Stax — that was the soundtrack of my youth — so I was a huge fan.

I got brought in as the music director for the series, and we ended up doing 36 episodes. The coolest part was having access to the original masters of all these legendary Motown tracks. We were re-recording them for the show, and I found myself in studios with iconic producers like Don Was, working out of Capitol Studio A, alongside some of the original Motown session players.

One moment that really sticks with me was when we pulled up the master of a Jackson 5 song — Ben. We were able to isolate Michael Jackson’s vocal track and just sit there, listening to a young Michael sing. At the end of the take, you hear the producer in his headphones say, “That was really good, Michael. Let’s do one more.” And Michael goes, “Nah, that was the one.” Moments like that were just surreal.

Today, a lot of these files are accessible online, but back then, the masters weren’t something you could just find. One of my favorite songs ever is Easyby the Commodores. I’ve listened to that song probably 100,000 times in my life. But to have the actual master files and be in the studio with the people who helped create that magic — it was like stepping into another world.

One thing I never knew was that there’s an orchestration that plays from the intro all the way through to the outro of Easy. In the final version, the strings only come in at the last chorus. Hearing the full arrangement and realizing the kinds of creative choices the producers made — it was just incredible. Like being a kid in a candy store.

Those kinds of moments are burned into your memory forever. That project was really special to me because I was introduced to Motown at a young age, probably through some kind of cartoon myself. So to help create a show that introduced a new generation of kids to that same music — it was a major highlight. There have been many, but that one definitely stands out.

Yitzi: It’s been said that sometimes our mistakes can be our greatest teachers. Do you have a story about a funny mistake you made when you were first starting in music, and the lesson you learned from it?

Hollis: Yeah. When I was living in Los Angeles — going back to the first time I moved out there when I was really young — there was a great guy who lived in my building named Tony Zetlin. Tony had come over from the UK with the Beatles. He worked at Capitol Records and was one of the label’s marketing guys. After that, he worked with Journey, Pink Floyd, and a bunch of other amazing artists.

Tony became my first mentor. I soaked up everything he had to say. We’d sit at his place, drink wine, watch old rock and roll documentaries, and he’d break down the history of the British Invasion, the bands, and his personal stories from the industry. I was such a sponge at that point, always full of questions.

One day, I think I interrupted him mid-story because I was so excited to ask something. He stopped and said, “I’m going to teach you a very valuable lesson.” I asked, “What’s that?” And he said, “You’re young and you’re excited, but when you’re around older people and they’re telling stories, the best thing you can do is shut up and listen. Just be quiet. You’ll absorb more by sitting in a room and listening than you will by talking.”

That hit me hard. From that point forward, I basically didn’t talk for about two years. I just listened. And it turned out to be one of the most valuable pieces of advice I’ve ever received. There have been tons of lessons along the way, but that one stuck with me.

To this day, I still find myself in rooms with great musicians — some of them legends — and I tend to just sit back and take it all in. That early advice became a habit. I internalized it, and it’s definitely paid off.

Now that I’m a little older and working with younger musicians and bands, I see the same thing in them. I’ve even used that same line Tony gave me. When you’re young, hungry, and still green, but you think you know everything, that energy and enthusiasm can sometimes come across in ways that aren’t helpful.

It’s not about people making mistakes — it’s just the eagerness that shows up in how they interact. And now, being on the other side of it, I get why that advice mattered so much. When someone’s offering you wisdom, it’s worth just focusing and listening, because you might not get that moment again.

That’s definitely one of the biggest lessons I’ve carried with me.

Yitzi: We love hearing stories where somebody who’s a bit further ahead opens a door and creates an opportunity that changes someone else’s career trajectory. Do you have a story where you did that for someone? Or do you have a story where someone did that for you when you were younger?

Hollis: Probably both. I think for me personally, I’ve always gravitated toward mentor types — guys who had been in the business and had done everything I wanted to do. Being around highly successful people just inevitably opens doors. I really believe that if you surround yourself with the people you want to become, there’s an energy that transfers. Not to get too cosmic, but I do believe there are energy givers and energy takers.

A lot of the doors that have opened for me haven’t been easy. They’ve all come with dedication and sacrifice. But people like the legendary Tony Brown — who I still consider a mentor — really changed things for me. I remember once at MCA Decca, I went up to him and said, “Man, I want to do what you’re doing. How do I get there?” He told me, “You just have to go out there and take chances. Be risky. Working a nine-to-five isn’t going to get you where you want to be. You have to step outside of that. Go find a band. Make a band happen. Be responsible for breaking that band. Be the one who puts them in the studio. Teach them everything you’ve learned. Help them set a trajectory for success and be a part of that.”

That conversation was a turning point. Around 2000, I decided to venture out on my own and take risks. The things I’ve learned from people like Tony Zetlin, Frank Liddell, Travis Hill, Tony Brown, Patrick Clifford, Bill Richardson — these guys dedicated their time and energy to me. They gave me a foundation to build from, and I’ve been able to pass that down to some of the younger bands I’ve worked with. Everything I’ve been taught has been put into practice. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. But this business, like anything high-risk, can bring high reward. You’ve got to have the mindset of a champion. It takes dedication and discipline to really get out there and take risks. Not everyone’s a risk taker, and I get that.

One of the lessons I pushed on myself — something I don’t think anyone else taught me — was making a conscious decision that this was going to be my life. Whether it turned out good or bad, I was choosing this lifestyle and direction, and I was going to put everything I had into it. If it worked out, great. If it didn’t, I was going to keep going. Because success looks different for everybody. Some people are successful early on. I don’t know if I would have wanted that. I think early success brings a whole different set of responsibilities.

For me, the way my life unfolded, I didn’t see real success until my 30s. It took a decade of being broke and just working. I read an interview once where Keith Richards from the Rolling Stones talked about discipline. He said he made himself stay up for three days straight as a kind of rite of passage. He said something changes in your body when you do that. And I can honestly say I’ve done that. It creates a will — a sheer will — to not just survive, but to keep going. To not know how to quit.

There’s something to be said for people who just don’t give up. It might not happen the first time. It might not happen the first hundred times. But eventually, if you’re willing to take risks and be a gambler, the odds are in your favor that something will happen. And those doors will open.

The Eighth Room Exterior "Rock Stars Live Here"

Yitzi: You have so much impressive work. Tell us about the exciting things you’re working on now and what you have coming up in the near future.

Hollis: Well, right now I’ve got a music venue in Nashville, Tennessee called The Eighth Room. It wasn’t something I planned on doing at all. You know, when you’re in the music business and you’ve traveled all over the country or even the world, visiting all kinds of bars and music venues, there’s always that little thought in the back of your mind — “Man, I’d love to have a bar. I’d love to have a music venue. That would be so much fun.” But the reality of it is a little different.

When we moved back to Nashville about four and a half years ago, I was at a point of real exhaustion. I don’t know if I believe in burnout, but I was definitely worn down. I’d just done ten years hard in Los Angeles — no vacations, just working non-stop. Kind of like when I started in Nashville, it was a full decade of work. Moving to LA was basically starting over. You can take what you’ve learned with you, but you still have to meet new people, make contacts, and build something again.

For me, that shift came after I signed a couple of bands out of Colorado, which started to bring some attention my way in LA. One of the big moments was discovering a band in Nashville called The Pink Spiders. About six months into being in LA, we had a bi-coastal bidding war over them, and that opened a lot of doors. But again, it still took a decade of work.

So, coming back to Nashville, I really just wanted to take a year off. I wanted to take my daughter to school every day, spend time with my wife, go on walks, hang out. One day on one of those walks, I saw the old Douglas Corner — the historic venue. It was a Nashville staple for 34 years, a tiny place with a 150-person capacity. But huge things happened there. Tony Brown rushed the stage and signed Trisha Yearwood there. Clint Black, Blake Shelton, Big & Rich, even Garth Brooks — so many careers launched from that room.

I noticed it had shut down during COVID. I imagine the previous owner, probably older, saw the uncertainty and decided it was a good time to bow out. I started wondering what was going to happen to that space. It needed to stay a music venue because of the energy that room holds. I started stopping by, met the realtors, got to know some of the people involved. I heard rumors about what might go in there, and I just thought, “That can’t happen.” It had to remain a venue.

So I went home and told my wife, “We’re going to open a music venue bar here.” I definitely got a side-eye at first, but once she saw I was serious, we dove into something totally different. And that’s how The Eighth Room was born. Since we couldn’t keep the Douglas Corner name, we had to completely reinvent the space. We had to do something fresh and new, and that’s what we set out to do.

It’s been a lot of work. But creatively, it’s something I really needed. It gave me a bit of a shift. It’s a different side of the music business. I used to be the guy going in with the bands. Now, I’m the guy hosting. It’s a different hat, but I’ve come to enjoy it.

What’s next? Only time will tell. I’ve always got something up my sleeve. I feel like the work is never really done. But the energy I’ve put into the last three or four years, especially with building out the venue, has brought me to a point where I’m definitely looking at what’s next.

Yitzi: There’s so much happening in Nashville. Can you tell us why we have to come to your club? What makes it special?

Hollis: Interesting. Good question. First of all, I think everybody should come to Nashville, period. Even when I lived in Los Angeles, I always considered Nashville my home. I was born and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. I’ve lived in several states and traveled all over the world, but Nashville has always felt like home. That’s where my roots really are. I think it’s because it’s where I cut my teeth, where I struggled and hustled.

It’s such a growing town. When I left in 2001, the area where I lived didn’t have any buildings — just bars and restaurants. Now, my old apartment building is surrounded by massive developments. Nashville has grown in culture and diversity, but it still has that little-big-town feel. The people are overly friendly. It’s very welcoming. We’ve got so many new restaurants coming in because Nashville has become a hot spot. You’ve got a lot of people from Los Angeles and New York moving in. It’s kind of an “it” place right now.

As for our place, what sets it apart is the inspiration behind it. When we were building it, I drew from rock and roll clubs like The Viper Room, The Rainbow Bar and Grill, Max’s Kansas City, and even places I’d seen in Australia. We built something that Nashville didn’t really have yet. We used Versace wallpaper, vintage chandeliers, Andy Warhol prints — all this crazy, lavish, over-the-top stuff. I told my wife, “We’re three to five years ahead of the curve.” There are no mason jars in here, which is fine — Nashville has its own style. But I wanted to push the boundaries, break the rules, and show that you can be eclectic, diverse, extravagant. You can do your own thing and find your audience.

There are so many great places to check out while you’re in town, but I think ours stands out. We’ve built it with the mentality of treating everyone like a rockstar. Give them that rockstar experience — from service to drinks to atmosphere to vibe, even the staff. I wouldn’t say we’re better than anyone else — there are so many different types of bars here, from tiki bars to honkytonks to cocktail lounges. We’re just another spot with our own unique mindset.

Yitzi: Okay, so this is our signature question. You’ve been blessed with a lot of success and you’ve clearly learned a lot from your experiences. Can you share five things you’ve learned over the years that you wish you knew when you first started the club?

Hollis: Ooh. I think a lot of it is relative to any career, really. The biggest thing is that losses turn into wins. I don’t think you come out of the gate with anything — whether it’s a startup, a new band, whatever — expecting everything you do to be right. Losses become wins if you learn from them. You adjust. Maybe you have another loss, and you adjust a little more. Then maybe another one, and you adjust again. Eventually, you get that win.

That idea has stuck with me. Even with this club, there are high highs and low lows. You have to find that flat ground you can drive on comfortably. Not racing downhill, just steady and intentional. Because there will always be both — losses and wins. They go hand in hand. I think that’s number one.

I’ll tell you another one. This isn’t some big revelation, but I’m sure it’s something you can relate to as a businessman, an entrepreneur, and someone working in digital media — content is king.

One thing I didn’t fully grasp when we first started, even though I’ve always been a social media guy — I was on Myspace, I started working with YouTube when it first launched — I was using those platforms not just for engagement but also for back-end analytics. But if I could go back three years, I’d really focus on understanding the importance of Google — specifically Google Business Profile — and Yelp.

Those two platforms completely dominate how anything you do is seen. You could be huge on Instagram, have tons of followers, but that doesn’t necessarily translate to anything tangible. It just means you feel good that people liked your post. I’ve had to buy programs, take tutorials, and teach myself how this stuff works because, like you, I’m not just going to go hire someone. I need to get my hands dirty and understand what I’m doing so that if I do hire someone, I can have an intelligent conversation with them.

The Google Business Profile stuff wasn’t even on my radar until maybe three or four months ago. Then I started to understand how everything — literally everything — is tied to those two platforms. Siri’s like, “Hey Siri, what’s a great cocktail bar near me?” If your Google profile isn’t optimized and hitting the daily checkboxes, you’re invisible. That blew my mind.

You can’t just throw blogs out there, hype yourself on Instagram, and expect traction. You’ve got to go through Google. And if there’s anything else I should be doing out there, tell your readers to email me at hollis@eighthroom.com and let me know, because I’m back to being a sponge. I understand social media, marketing, and branding really well, but from a pure business standpoint — how to truly get your name out — I didn’t understand that.

Now I’m learning. And with AI, you can go ask questions and get solid advice, tips, even tricks to boost your algorithms. But someone still has to actually do the work. That’s been a big one for me. I’m sure you deal with that too.

Yitzi: Okay, this is our aspirational question. So Hollis, because of your amazing work and all the platforms and locations you’ve built, you’re a person of enormous influence. If you could put out an idea, spread an idea, or inspire a movement that would bring the most good to the most people, what would that be?

Hollis: Hmm. You know, there are a couple of things I’ve done all my life. I don’t know that this would inspire a movement, but I’d like to think that being humble yet snarky, grateful, and hardworking inspires some kind of influence. I think gratitude goes a long way. Visualization is probably one of the biggest keys to my success. I’ve visualized everything, ever since I was young.

But I don’t know what would spark a movement. I can only tell you the things that inspire me and get me into a state of flow. One of those is meditation. It’s something I picked up around 21, mostly because of sheer insomnia from working the way I did. Calming my mind down after 18-hour days, with only three or four hours to sleep before doing it all over again, was something I really struggled with.

I think a lot of young people who are highly creative or in a difficult, competitive field have to learn how to center themselves, calm their minds so they can focus. I’ve always believed, in my heart, that the closest thing to God is intuition and your gut. When you have that gut instinct, you can either act on it or your ego will talk you out of it. Meditation is what brought me closest to really listening to my gut, my intuition — knowing that something’s coming, that it’s downloading from a higher power than me. That energy fuels you. It recharges your battery. It helps you get into a flow — moving downstream instead of upstream.

I don’t know if that sparks a revolution or anything, but for me, it’s been a tool I use religiously to recharge. Anytime you’re out there giving energy — especially in a space like I’m in now or even in the past — you’re expelling so much. People are taking, and you’ve got to get in there and fill that tank back up.

Besides meditation, walking has really changed my life. I’ve always been into exercising and trying to stay healthy, but walking is the closest thing to physical meditation I’ve found. You don’t need a gym membership. You don’t need anything but a pair of shoes, and you can do it anywhere in the world. A lot of my creative ideas, or even little mantras I tell myself to keep going, come to me while I’m walking.

I don’t think there’s anything world-changing about people going out and doing things like that, but I do believe you have to be conscious of your battery. We have one, and it’s going to run out at some point. But if you keep filling it up, you can go out and do good, help people, make things happen, take risks. You need a well-supplied battery. And you need confidence. Confidence can be really fragile. One comment from one person can throw you off. The more you focus on yourself — your mind, your physical state, your spiritual battery — the more you can go out and really be there for others.

Again, I don’t think that changes the world in some huge way, but it’s changed my world a hundred times over. And it continues to. So one of the things I’m most grateful for is finding quiet when I can and getting out to fuel my body and recharge. That’s what allows me to keep going.

Photo Credits:

Photos of Hollis: Mozart Gabriel

Photos of the Eighth Room: Elisabeth Donaldson