Truthfully, it was never something I had any intention of sharing. But yesterday I read it out loud and thought why not.
It’s good. Within 15 minutes, I felt the deep satisfaction of submitting my first poem to a magazine. Random. But not really? It got me thinking…

October 1st, (the day my lease was up), loomed heavily in the distance.“What should I do?” was the only question on my mind. The rules of the game had changed. It seemed like living and working in the Bay Area was no longer a requisite for success. In fact, the more I began to imagine what my future looked like, the more my present circumstances felt incompatible with the future I desired for myself.

As I transition into my second year of business and celebrate another round of Personal Brand Accelerator, I stand humbly on the mountaintop. I rarely feel this way. The nature of entrepreneurship is, afterall, uncertain. I suppose the secret is in loving where you are when you get there: be it the valley or the mountain top and all of the resting places in between.

I believe that building your personal brand is the process of developing oneself. It requires radical courage. It takes bravery to shed old layers and continuously upgrade and expand your sense of identity.

Above anything else, COVID-19 is giving us time; and time is one of the most valuable resources you can give to humanity. When given adequate time, humans always arise to the challenge.

While some people had already built successful businesses and raised millions of dollars, some had nearly just begun. What all of these people had in common was their innerving desire to create change, solve problems, and serve their communities. 

Passion isn’t passive, it’s active.

In 2016 I thought I knew what my dream life was going to look like, and now it is so much better than I ever could have imagined.

I make bold moves — often and willingly — because I am not a “part-time” kind of person. I go all in. In business, in life, and in my relationships.

A schedule that works for me while compensating for a long weekend of travel.

I wanted the world and it’s wonders, and I was willing to forego community and companionship to have it.

I fell. My body plummeted 15 ft off a rooftop in San Francisco…

We will suffer, and ache, and grieve for things lost and changed time again. I feel sadness in a way that had never touched me before. 

Real traveling humbles you. It begs you to adapt, it asks you to be teachable, and it urges a new process of reason.