Imagine.

This past year has been disjointed and difficult, marked by confusion and slow, uneven progress. In truth, it is not just this year. It has been a stretch of years since the pandemic began to fade, each one layered with uncertainty, each one demanding a kind of patience I did not always have. During this time, I have moved through a deep and private darkness, a space that is neither dramatic nor theatrical but quiet and persistent. It has been a necessary period of soul-searching, not chosen, but imposed by circumstance and circumstance alone.

Now, approaching fifty, I feel time pressing in from all sides. There is a tangible sense that much remains unfinished, that the list of what I want to see done, felt, and understood is longer than the hours I have to do it. At some point, I let go of the need for recognition. The spotlight no longer calls me. The intensity that once drove me forward feels heavy in my chest, a weight I am no longer willing to carry. Instead, I turn toward work that holds personal meaning, work that roots itself in quiet impact rather than outward spectacle. And yet fulfillment is never simple. Even in moments that should feel complete, there remains a hollow space, a whisper of absence that refuses to be ignored.

I have come to understand that what I needed was never attention. It was connection. Connection to myself, first, an internal light steady enough to guide me when the world feels dim. Connection to others, not through approval or applause, but through honest presence, through the act of creating spaces where people feel safe, seen, and heard. I take that responsibility seriously, perhaps more seriously than I have anything else in my life. After so long in silence and darkness, I cannot pretend that comfort alone is enough. The work calls for authenticity. I have learned that I cannot ignore what feels true.

Here is what I know now. The work I do matters, in ways that are tangible, precise, and human. It draws people together, it offers healing, and it reminds us that we are not alone in our struggle. For me, it is essential, not a choice or a performance. Even in moments of doubt or exhaustion, I am pulled forward. There is always more to give, more to build, more to witness. Each day, each action, holds significance beyond its measure.

My mission is simple and clear. It is to weave art, healing, and human connection into a life that is purposeful and intentional. It is to use creativity as a tool, not for fame, not for validation, but for recovery, growth, and meaning. I move forward with clarity and humility, taking one step at a time, conscious of each choice, each interaction, each effort. In the quiet, in the everyday labor of living and creating, I find the depth I once sought in spectacle. It is steady. It is real. It is enough.