LETTER 01 

THE ART OF NOT KNOWING

On liminality, uncertainty & the space between worlds...

Dear heart, 

Remember you are a seeker, becoming a master of intuition, of transformation, self-initiation, rite of passage.

There is a peculiar beauty in not knowing what comes next and an equally peculiar discomfort.

We spend so much of our lives attempting to establish certainty. Building identities, constructing futures, attaching ourselves to ideas of who we are and where we're going. And then life, in all its mysterious intelligence, rearranges everything.

I’ve been thinking about liminality for some time.

As a musician, an artist, a social entrepreneur, and a chaser of dreams through my twenties and into my thirties, I was always making a path where there wasn’t one.

A couple of years ago, after a big chapter closed, I entered a pilgrimage and what is now nearly two years of nomadic life around the globe.

Somewhere around six months into my journey, it hit me. I was staying at my aunt’s in Paris for a month last summer, feeling a little bemused, a little vulnerable. Nomadic life had brought me into direct contact with my own sense of being in between—that strange threshold between what was and what has yet to become.

The space where familiar structures dissolve, but nothing has quite arrived to replace them. It's a place we often rush to escape. We want answers. Direction. Something tangible to hold.

But what if this space isn't asking to be resolved? What if it's asking to be inhabited?

As artists, we encounter this territory constantly. The silence before a melody. The empty page. The moment before something takes form.

Creation requires a willingness to enter the unknown.

And perhaps living creatively asks the same of us.

Not every season needs a name.
Not every experience needs an explanation.

Paris led me to London and eventually to Egypt and Turkey, where I reunited with my mom after a  year into my journey. Continuing along the pathless path was the biggest gift in magic and the great mystery. I met someone very special in the Great Pyramid (an amazing story for another time...).

Not every beginning announces itself.

There is something profoundly liberating about allowing life to remain unfinished.

Perhaps the unknown is not the absence of direction, but the beginning of discovery.

Keep the flame bright.

More letters on The Art of Unbecoming to follow.

✵☉

ON NIGREDO, DISSOLUTION, AND LIVING THROUGH A CHANGE WE CANNOT YET NAME

Dear heart,

Lately, I’ve been thinking about cycles and how often we expect ourselves to move in straight lines.

To keep growing. Keep producing. Keep becoming clearer.

But what happens when transformation asks us to pause? When something that once held our lives together begins to loosen, and the next shape hasn’t arrived?

As Día de los Muertos and All Souls’ Day approach, one of my favorite times of the year, my love and I have just completed a three day water fast, holding intentions together. 

Between the silence and the wind in the trees in the middle of day 02, my thoughts and past memories flooded in the dark. What naturally dissolves and what brings new life, new light?

I’m finding myself reflecting on the experiences and cycles that brought me here. Years of performing and bringing light in celebration honoring the dead. A multi-dimensional Mayan fires journey remembering sacred rituals, working with elementals and the Cholq'ij with wisdom keepers and speaking prayers to the fire with our Ajq'ij. Ancestral connection. Blood memory. Deep medicine work. Traveling to Egypt with Veda Austin last year and meeting my beloved in the Great Pyramid and continuing to follow the journey with water.

Through it all, my relationship with being an artist has been changing. Some identities have softened. Others have been difficult to release.

In alchemical symbolism, nigredo is the darkening: a phase of dissolution, when the familiar form begins to break down.

For this second letter,  I’m exploring that space between endings and beginnings, and how we might inhabit a season of change before we can name what we are becoming.

Read the full letter on THE ART OF UNBECOMING→