Today reminded me of who I am when I stop rushing — a creative soul among other creative souls.
I didn’t plan on making it to the Fairfax Fall Fest on time. I almost skipped it entirely. The only reason I was planning to go was to see Ben — an old friend and fantastic musician — play with Shelley Star and The Galaxy. But somehow, arriving late turned out to be perfect timing.
I wandered through rows of paintings, prints, jewelry, and handmade crafts — each table humming with someone’s dream. It was comforting to see so many artists doing what I’m doing: putting their hearts into something and trusting it enough to share. Being around them filled me with warmth. Talking to them filled me with inspiration — fuel I didn’t realize I was missing. It reminded me that even when I feel isolated or overwhelmed, I’m part of a bigger creative current. Writing songs is like grabbing pieces of wisdom from the clouds and shaping them into something human using my perspective. It’s a wonderful gift, but also a lonely one at times, like drifting further from everyday life. Moments like today bring me back to balance — to the collective pulse I belong to.
Then I saw Ben. I was nervous at first; we haven’t seen each other in a while, though we’ve collaborated on music here and there remotely. He texted, “meet me between Main and University.” When I walked down University and saw him, everything softened. It was easy — the kind of ease that happens when two creative frequencies meet again after a long time. I’ve missed him, and the music world I was so deeply invested in these last few years.
We talked, laughed, sat through the music, and slipped into that familiar rhythm that only happens with people who get you. Seeing him reminded me how much I value those soul-level connections — where hearts and creative visions speak the same language. It’s as if you sit and witness the chaos of the world together, yet find comfort in the silence between you. And when you finally speak, everything comes out with exquisite honesty. That’s become a compass for me — in choosing collaborators, and really, any friend.
While we talked, I realized I don’t miss the old “band life” much. I miss the energy of creating with people who care as much as I do — the honesty, the shared purpose. That’s what I’m calling in now, through my next songs, my art, and the life I’m building.
Today, the festival reminded me that I’m already walking toward that future — slowly, gently, but surely.
Thanks to Ben for the warm conversation, and for reminding me why I love this life.
A few quiet glimpses from the day that inspired this post.
