This is the living archive of my practice.
These are not blog posts. They are lived moments — rendered slowly, honestly, and with care.
People often find their way here when they need a place to slow down, reflect, or feel a little less alone.
Why I Write
Writing is how I process what I’m living.
Some pieces take months — shaped slowly, revised with editors, and published in literary journals. Others arrive faster—something I noticed on a walk, a conversation that stayed with me, a question I’m not done asking.
They are different registers of the same inquiry.
Where to Begin
If you feel like settling in, start with The Field Between Us — it’s about long partnership, and the knowing that never finishes.
If you only have a moment, start with This is Me— it’s the kind of noticing that usually passes us by.
My desire for the kind of silent presence my pup offers isn’t failure.
If you’d rather listen, start with Rebloom: A Talk about Creative Courage— an honest, unfiltered conversation worth sitting with.
For a year and a half, the ReBloom Podcast kept me company on long walks and rowing workouts. This week, my episode went live.
Where you might want to go from here
If something feels connected but you can’t quite name how…
These essays follow that thread — between the ordinary and the unspoken, the moment and what it holds. Pushcart Prize-nominated · Published in Pangyrus, Chicago Story Press & The Manifest-Station
I've crafted a life defined by speech rather than silence. Yet for all my determination to break the cycle, I still find myself slipping into inherited patterns.
What's the difference between helping and controlling? Between care and erasure? An essay about marriage, inheritance, and painful recognition.
What happens when two people who love each other live fundamentally different lives? A dual-voice essay about marriage, contradiction, and staying.
In response to the prompt Found Document where the ask was to “write a story, poem, or essay in the form of a found document. How does the form shape what is revealed?”
If you want to notice what’s usually missed…
Moments from everyday life — caught before they pass, and held just long enough to see them clearly.
Giving ourselves permission to play, be present, and not judge, even for 90 minutes, can feel like a lot.
What becomes possible when you feel genuinely safe to not have the answer? When there’s no performance required, no expertise to demonstrate, no version of yourself to maintain?
An exploration of how finger painting and intuitive art practices can help adults overcome creative blocks and rediscover play.
If something needs to be felt, not explained…
Words that arrive differently. Less structured, more intuitive.
From grey slime that shifts to waves that comfort to fireflies flickering, this is my shape of solitude.
If you’d rather listen than read…
Conversations about creativity, presence, and the kinds of questions that stay with you. Something to keep you company — on a walk, in the car, or when you sit with what’s here.
For a year and a half, the ReBloom Podcast kept me company on long walks and rowing workouts. This week, my episode went live.
In conversation with Sherry Taveras for her podcast The Hundred Acre Pen about kindness as an act of rebellion.
I'm so deeply moved by the way Kel has captured not just what I do, but the why beneath it, weaving it so beautifully into her powerful narrative of chronic pain, loneliness, and radical hope.
This is one of the most vulnerable, honest conversations I’ve ever had on a public platform.

We mistake long-term partnership for knowing someone deeply.
But knowing is an ongoing act.