We are living in profoundly challenging times. Across the U.S. — and around the world — many of us are watching with heartbreak, frustration, and even rage as the values we care most deeply about feel under siege.

In moments like these, silence can feel both easier and more dangerous.

But your voice matters.

Pride is the antidote to shame.

It’s a simple statement, but it holds the power to change how we show up in the world.

For too long, many of us have been taught—explicitly or subtly—that parts of who we are should be hidden, softened, or silenced. That we’re too much or not enough. That our stories are inconvenient. Our identities—whether shaped by culture, gender, sexuality, race, class, or creativity—don’t fit the mold.

When I first started out as a speaker, I thought it was all about the content – having the right words, the perfect slides, the perfect script. I spent hours memorizing every line and trying to get every gesture just right.

But what I didn’t realize was that true impact doesn’t come from perfection. It comes from authenticity – from finding your own voice, owning your story, and connecting with your audience in a real way.

After visiting Arches National Park, I couldn’t stop thinking about the power of time—how it sculpts, shapes, and stretches what seems solid.

Then I arrived at Bryce Canyon… and the story deepened.

Here, the rocks aren’t graceful arches. They’re jagged, towering spires called hoodoos. According to Paiute legend, these hoodoos were once people—turned to stone as a consequence of their actions, frozen in place for eternity.

And I thought: how many of us are doing the same?

While exploring Arches National Park in Utah, I stood beneath a towering stone arch carved by time, wind, and weather. It struck me: even rocks tell stories.

Every crack, curve, and crevice has a past—centuries of shifting, shaping, and resilience. Just like us. Just like your voice.

If you're running a nonprofit, chances are you're doing deeply meaningful, often life-changing work. But here's something I’ve learned: good work doesn’t speak for itself—good stories do.

I’m thrilled to share that since February 2025, I’ve served on the Board of Directors for Guitars Over Guns, an incredible organization that empowers young people through music, mentorship, and the arts. Guitars Over Guns offers students from our most vulnerable communities a powerful combination of arts education and mentorship with professional artists to help them overcome hardship, find their voice, and reach their potential as tomorrow’s leaders.

I know I have posted a lot about health – but I wanted to offer some context, provide an update – and maybe in doing so, give some hope to folks who may be struggling with their own health challenges

The stories we tell ourselves become the foundation of our lives. But sometimes, those stories do more harm than good.

What’s the story you’re living by? Is it lifting you up—or holding you back?

Every day is an opportunity to embrace the spirit of giving. It’s a reminder of the beauty of generosity—not just in the act of giving itself but in the profound way it connects us to others and, perhaps most importantly, to ourselves.

There are three topics I’ve always enjoyed talking about: politics, the arts, and storytelling.

Nowadays, I find no pleasure in speaking about politics because it has become far too divisive.

So, I’ve been thinking: perhaps I should be speaking about how the arts and storytelling can help bridge the divide that politics has created.

Some of you know I have been dealing with a weird, rare chronic pain condition for a few years. I finally decided that “enough is enough,” and rather than continuing to treat the symptoms without addressing the cause (and continuing to bore my loved ones with my constant complaining), I had surgery this week

There are certain life experiences that are forever etched in our memories.

For me, one such memory occurred in April of this year - just a few short months ago.

If you know me, you would probably say that I am a pretty passionate person.

The things I am really passionate about are different from my hobbies.  For instance, I can paint for hours, talk about Broadway theater endlessly and binge-watch Netflix series for hours.  I love these things – but they are not my passions. Obsessions, maybe – but not passions.

I have been having long conversations with my parents lately – with Dad, about work and storytelling, and what Barry and Bentley and I are doing to be active in the election. With my Mom, I am having lots of talks about life, health and what we are doing to potty train the puppy.

My parents are both deceased.

Do you feel a flutter of nerves before stepping onto the stage or speaking in front of a crowd? What, you are human?? Even the most seasoned speakers experience pre-speech jitters. While we may think that those butterflies are a bad thing, they may, in fact, just be reminding us how excited we are to share our message. The trick is getting those butterflies in formation, to work for us rather than against us.

I remember every detail of a recent brainstorming session I facilitated for a public relations client who handles lifestyle and food brands. We were talking about the agency’s new business pipeline and the kinds of clients that would be an ideal fit. The conversation evolved into how each team member uses the products they wanted to represent.

I am out on a snorkeling adventure in the beautiful blue green waters of Key West, and excited to see some cool tropical fish. I've been snorkeling many times, so I am not in the least bit apprehensive.

Last Friday night I attended a brilliant new musical called “Alan” (a coincidence!), a poignant musical from Spain exploring the life of Alan Montoliu, a teen who took his own life due to the bullying he endured while transitioning.

A year ago almost to this day I found myself in so much consistent pain that I really was finding it hard to see past it.