A Quiet Agreement With the Future

The Vanilla Box in the Corner

My new workspace isn’t much to look at yet—just a vanilla box in the corner of the garage. Still, it’s a sharp contrast to my studio, which has grown cluttered and restless over time.

And yet, standing there, I feel like I’m in a sunlit doorway, one hand resting on the frame, the other brushing against the unknown.

“Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you have imagined.”

Henry David Thoreau

Readiness Without Rush

The workbench is waiting for a few last supplies and tools to arrive. I’m ready to begin, but I’m also learning that readiness isn’t about rushing. It’s about letting the right moment find you—the way tools seem to rest patiently on the shelf, knowing they’ll be picked up when it’s time.

Part of this journey is moving past the fear of sharing it. I’m ready to lift the lid, crawl out from under the rock, and try new things—with the patience to see what belongs in the light and what should stay packed away. Creations can’t live forever only inside my head.

Spaces in Conversation

Each morning after coffee, I head into my studio—a space lined with my desk, shelves of books, jars of paintbrushes, and boxes I still haven’t opened. Soon, the workshop will share some of those paints and inks, along with glass and chemicals that are too risky for the Loft.

The newness of this corner space feels like a quiet invitation, making room for something unseen to arrive.

The Unseen Turning Point

There’s more here than just glass, tools, and shelves. The unseen—the part that can’t be labeled or measured—has become the most essential element in everything I do.

Every creative person I know has faced the question: Am I good enough? I’ve felt it, too. But now I understand that what I already carry inside is proof that I am enough.

“You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.”

Mary Oliver

Quiet Agreements With the Future

Every swept floor, every rearranged bookshelf, every sharpened pencil, every discarded hardened brush—each small act becomes part of a quiet agreement with the future. These little rituals are my way of saying, I’m ready when you are.

One foot in front of the other is all it takes to cross the finish line.

Between the Spaces

The tools are almost in place, and the spaces are nearly ready. Soon, the work will begin. But for now, I’m learning to enjoy the calm that lives between these moments—the peace that makes room for what’s coming next.

Talk soon…

G