Life without music is far too quiet, too disenchanted.

The Journey

For years, I wasn’t sure how (or if) I could turn something so personal into something I could share. I knew I loved music. I always had. But I wasn’t always sure where I fit in it.

I come from a musical family — the kind where music just naturally fills the room. My dad is a big part of that. He’s not just someone who used to play — he still plays now, all the time. For others, for himself, just because he loves it. He never waited for permission to make music part of his life. He just lived it.

Watching him — and growing up and experiencing the way my siblings both immerse themselves in music — quietly shaped the way I see music: not as a performance to prove something, but as something we get to do, something that connects us to ourselves and others.

It took me a while to trust that I could follow that same path in my own way. There were years of uncertainty, times I held back, or doubted I had anything to offer. But music kept showing up for me — so I kept showing up for it.

Now that I’ve stepped into teaching, I’ve found that I love it more than I expected. There’s something special about helping people learn to enjoy their own voice or finally play a song they love. It’s not about perfection — it’s about connection.

I’m building this studio to be a place where people can grow at their own pace, feel encouraged, and make music part of their life — even if it’s just for themselves. That’s how it started for me. And it’s what I hope to pass on.