Thoughts, truths, and stories from a curated life.
Autumn isn’t the end. It’s the pause before the becoming.
A soft hush between seasons. A golden threshold.
Where trees let go without resistance.
Where air cools, light stretches, and we begin again. Not from scratch, but from truth.
My dad is one of the most positive and joyful people I know. Curious about his constant optimism, I once asked him, “How do you stay so positive and encouraging all the time?” His response was surprisingly simple: “I just hate being miserable.” That answer made me pause. Could it really be that straightforward? Our mindset has the incredible power to shape our lives.
There’s something ancient in the handmade.
Something your body remembers, even if your mind has forgotten.
The weight of a ceramic mug, still warm from firing.
The brushstroke that doesn’t follow rules.
The cedar grain in a hand-built chair, whispering of trees and time.
In a world obsessed with convenience, handmade is a beautiful rebellion.
I’ve always known I was creative.
Even as a child, I was building, crafting, painting. Finding joy in creating with my hands. That was my happiest place. Not because anyone told me it mattered, but because something in me needed to create. It was never about learning to be an artist. It was always about remembering that I already was.
