Jim West
Emmy-Nominated Television Host, Global Entrepreneur, & Author
Teaching global audiences how to silence the noise, connect authentically, and land in the power of the current moment.
Jim West is an Emmy-nominated television creator, host, and self-made global entrepreneur whose life journey bridges the gap between high-energy entertainment and deep intentional stillness.
As the creator and host of the acclaimed national television series Destination Craft, Jim has spent decades exploring the intersection of culture, human creativity, wellness, and transformation around the world.
His deep roots in the modern wellness movement were forged in 1980s West Hollywood, where he worked alongside spiritual pioneers, attended early lectures on A Course in Miracles, and assisted during the early days of Hay House.
Whether directing a camera crew, building an international travel company, writing personal stories, or exploring remote regions of the globe, Jim’s mission remains the same: helping people arrive fully in the present moment.
Published Story
Dancing with Isabell
Featured in Chicken Soup for the Traveler’s Soul
In this moving story from Jim West’s years working aboard cruise ships, a simple dance with an elderly passenger becomes a powerful reminder that small acts of kindness can awaken memories, restore joy, and touch a life in ways we may never fully understand.
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Dancing with Isabell
If we are always arriving and departing it is also true that we are eternally anchored. One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things. – Henry Miller
Years ago, when I was working as an assistant cruise director, the male staff members had to dance with the elderly ladies who were traveling by themselves. Whenever we saw these passengers in one of the lounges, we were required to strike up a conversation and offer to dance with them.
It wasn't one of the more popular duties. Many times we would find ourselves tripping over our feet, struggling to dance a particular step. We affectionately nicknamed this routine "drag-a-bag."
On one particular Saturday night, the ship's program called for only fifteen minutes of music and dancing in the main lounge. We figured we'd have to dance with only a couple of women, which wouldn't be too bad.
I looked around and spotted a lady sitting off to the side, her foot stomping away to the beat of a lively Glenn Miller tune. She looked like she was in her seventies, on the petite side, and was wearing a wig that was unevenly pulled to the side.
I walked up to her, introduced myself and asked her if she wanted to dance. She smiled at me and said, "No, thank you."
I mentioned that I had seen her tapping to the music and knew she was enjoying the Big Band sound. Reaching out my hand and gently placing it in hers, I said, "Come on, let's go have some fun."
She got up, and we made our way to the dance floor. To my surprise, Isabel was a very good dancer. Her eyes were all lit up, and she was smiling from ear to ear.
The music ended, and I walked Isabel back to her seat. As we sat down, I noticed the tears in her eyes. She reached down into her purse, pulled out a tissue and began to cry.
"Have I done something to upset you?" I asked. "Was it my poor dancing abilities? I'm sorry."
She looked up with her wet, shiny eyes and assured me that I had done nothing wrong. "I love to dance," she said. "My husband and I would go dancing every Saturday night. We never missed an opportunity."
"Earl and I always dreamed of dancing at sea together. We talked about going on a cruise, and we saved up our money." She drew a deep breath and continued, "Then one Saturday evening, just as we were getting dressed to go out, he sat down on our bed and said he needed to rest for a few minutes. Well, he never woke up."
I could see her love for her husband in every wrinkle of her precious face.
"I haven't danced in twenty-eight years," she paused and looked at me with a smile, "until now."
Then she gave me a hug and whispered, "Thank you for being my partner tonight."
Some years later, I became a cruise director, but I never forgot that moment, especially on Big Band nights.
When the guys on my staff would offer up the same complaints I used to have, I had only to recount Isabel's story. No sooner would I finish than they were back on the dance floor again, perhaps with somebody's grandmother, or maybe with a lady who hadn't danced in far too many years.
Jim West
Published Story
A Fireplace To Remember
Featured in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Christmas Virtues
In this deeply nostalgic Christmas story, Jim West reflects on childhood memories, family love, and the meaning of home through the symbol of an old cardboard fireplace that carried more warmth than any real flame ever could.
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A Fireplace To Remember
The original story of Tending the Home Fires, as printed in Chicken Soup for the Soul Christmas Cheer & Christmas Virtues
By Jim West
Growing up as a child in a lower-middle class family of seven back in the 1960's wasn't an easy thing to do, especially in a small house in need of much repair. However, Christmastime made "roughing it out" the entire year all worth it.
Both my parents were hardworking people. My father worked at the local cement mill cleaning soot from the inside of large chimney stacks. Weeks before Christmas, he would work double shifts and sometimes triple shifts to ensure our family would have presents to open on Christmas day.
My mom worked as city clerk in our small town. Besides her nine-to-five job, she took care of our entire family, doing laundry, preparing meals, sewing hand-me-down clothing, and everything a good mother does to keep a household together.
Christmas was a special time for our entire family. Two weeks before, mom would take out her big rolling pin, a large sack of flour and sugar, and all of us would spend the entire day making Christmas cookies.
One of our family traditions was to hang Christmas cards around the frames of the doorways that led into each bedroom. Another tradition was singing Christmas carols as we moved boxes of Christmas decorations upstairs from the dark and cold basement to our living room.
One of my duties each year was to assemble an old cardboard fireplace. Our house was very small and had no real fireplace, so each year our cardboard substitute functioned as a place to hang Christmas stockings and a place where Santa could enter our home and leave presents.
That old fireplace had a black cardboard mantle, covered with dozens of holes from thumbtacks from previous years. There was also a bright red light bulb where the cardboard logs were located, and a small metal thing-a-ma-bob that would spin to give the effect that a fire was burning.
As a young boy, I would sit in front of that fireplace and imagine that the heat from the vent was actually coming from the cardboard logs. It was my fantasy of living in a beautiful home like my friends.
Years had passed, and my siblings and I were grown and living on our own. During this time, my parents were blessed in a very big way. They hit the jackpot and won over $2 million in the Illinois State Lottery.
After paying their bills and helping their church and local families, they looked for a new place to live. The only two requests my father had were that their new home have a two-car garage and a working fireplace.
The first Christmas after they were in their new house, our entire family came home to be together. Everything looked gorgeous, from crystal ornaments to a hand-carved wooden Santa from Germany.
As I walked through the house, I came to the steps that led upstairs. I stopped, looked up, and smiled. There, as if it were a dear friend I thought I'd never see again, stood that old cardboard fireplace.
I called to my mom and asked her why she was still keeping that old thing in her new house. With a deep sigh and placing her hand on my shoulder she said, "Because I don't want any of us to ever forget the real meaning of Christmas."
I knew exactly what she meant: the simple joys we all shared in that old house, when we really didn't have much at Christmas except a lot of love for each other.
Those memories of Christmas remain etched in my mind forever: making cookies, singing Christmas carols, hanging homemade macaroni ornaments, and sitting in front of an old cardboard fireplace that still provides me with more warmth today than I could have ever thought possible.