In 2025 I spent a full month in silence.

No phone. No talking. Just sitting with my breath and the long echo of my own mind. Somewhere in that quiet I realized something simple but difficult: I can’t be afraid of my own darkness. The spiritual work isn’t to run from the things that scare me. The work is to sit still long enough to see it clearly.

By that point I had already been sitting in meditation for 3,000 days. Not perfectly. Not like some enlightened monk on a mountain. Just returning to the cushion again and again. There is still so much to learn, but there is also so much I've learned. And I feel the calling to share.

The same rhythm for my spiritual practice, gave shape to my studio practice. Showing up every day. Not waiting for inspiration. Just being present, exploring, and staying open to what might appear.

So I see mindfulness as an art, to me. For me. About me. And I am you. So that is for all of the world.

This is my writing practice in public. It’s a place where I share reflections on meditation, creativity, spiritual practice, and the long road of learning to sit with ourselves.

Some posts are quiet essays about mindfulness. Others are notes from the studio, poems, or thoughts about art, culture, and the strange work of becoming more human.

If you’re interested in the intersection of presence, creativity, and everyday life, you can follow the journey there.

In 2020 I began building a meditation platform with my partners at Quantasy + Associates called True Voice.

True Voice was designed to serve mindfulness communities with a library of hundreds of guided meditations, sound practices, and live classes where people can practice together. The platform brings together teachers, artists, and practitioners who are interested in exploring meditation as a shared cultural practice rather than something done alone.

My role in the project focused on shaping the creative vision and helping build a space where mindfulness, music, and community could meet.

This is an ongoing creative project exploring the relationship between mindfulness, art, and community.

What began as a meditation practice gradually expanded into a publication and podcast where I speak with artists, activists, and thinkers living and working in Nashville. The project was built as a living archive—part newspaper, part conversation space—documenting the creative spirit of a city through the lens of presence.

Each issue of the newspaper connects directly to the podcast through QR codes, allowing readers to move from the printed page into deeper conversations with the people shaping culture around them.

At its heart, the Museum of Presence is an invitation to slow down, listen closely, and remember that the creative life and the mindful life are not separate practices.

Meditation Club is an audio journal of my meditation practice—shared reflections, guided meditations, poems, and lessons I’m learning along the way. It’s a simple space where I document the rhythms of practice as a lay practitioner, artist, and father trying to live with more awareness.

Some episodes are quiet guided meditations. Others explore dharma, books, and the everyday questions that arise when we sit still long enough to listen. The intention is not perfection, but honesty—an invitation for others to practice alongside me.

Listen to the Meditation Club on Spotify.

Over the past several years my meditation practice has grown into something I enjoy sharing with others. I regularly lead meditation sessions, speak with communities about mindfulness, and teach workshops that explore the relationship between creative practice and meditation.

These gatherings can take many forms—guided group meditation, conversations about mindfulness in everyday life, or workshops designed specifically for artists and cultural workers. Much of my work focuses on meditation for creative communities, exploring how presence, reflection, and imagination support one another.

If you’re interested in bringing meditation to your community—whether through a talk, workshop, or group practice—I’d be glad to connect.