imagine: one day you’re hustling through brooklyn, scheduling back-to-back client calls, planning other people’s lives as a corporate strategist. your idea of creativity is finding a new productivity app or rearranging your google calendar with better color coding.
then life throws you a curveball, and suddenly you’re in rural oklahoma, staring at your grandfather’s massive tool shed (aka Design Center), wondering how the hell you got here and how fast you can get out.
yeah, that was me. and i hated it.
the great unraveling let’s be honest – when you’re used to artisanal coffee shops and the constant buzz of city life, the silence of rural america feels less like peace and more like punishment. i was that person who thought i needed a structured creativity workshop or a carefully curated retreat to “find myself.”
but here’s what happens when you accidentally end up in the middle of nowhere:
- your phone stops being interesting
- time starts moving differently
- the silence stops feeling scary
- and most importantly – you run out of ways to distract yourself from yourself
the unexpected discovery you know what nobody tells you about creativity? it’s not hiding in a workshop or a course or another self-help book. it’s hiding under layers of schedules and expectations and social media scrolling.
in my grandfather’s tool shed (aka the design center) – this magical space filled with 50 years of collecting and building and fixing – i found something i didn’t even know i was missing. between rusty tools and forgotten treasures, i rediscovered what it feels like to be curious without purpose. to create without expecting perfection.
the brooklyn-to-backwoods transform i went from:
- scheduling creativity sessions to waking up and asking “what do i feel like making today?”
- planning structured retreats to building an outdoor bathtub just because it seemed fun
- buying art supplies to making things with whatever i could find
- teaching people how to organize their lives to teaching them how to mess them up in the most beautiful ways
here’s what i learned most of us don’t need another workshop on how to be creative. we don’t need more structure, more steps, more carefully curated experiences.
what we need is:
- permission to play without purpose
- space to hear ourselves think
- time to remember who we were before we got so busy being productive
- someone to show us the magic hiding in our ordinary spaces
this is for you if…
- your pinterest board is full but your life feels empty
- you keep signing up for creativity workshops that feel just as structured as the life you’re trying to escape
- you can’t remember the last time you made something just because you felt like it
- your house is perfectly organized but doesn’t feel like home
- you’re tired of trying to find joy in a schedule
what i offer not a workshop. not a program. not another thing to add to your to-do list.
instead, think of me as your imagination companion. the friend who shows up and helps you:
- see the seven different possibilities hiding in that thing you were about to throw away
- turn your backyard into a wonderland using stuff you already have
- remember what it feels like to create without rules
- find the magic hiding in your junk drawer
- build something weird and wonderful just because you can
why i’m different i’m not teaching this from a textbook or a training program. i lived it. from brooklyn burnout to building outdoor showers in oklahoma. from scheduling every minute to following my curiosity wherever it led. from helping people organize their lives to helping them delightfully disorganize them.
i know what it’s like to feel trapped in a perfectly curated life. to think you need a structured program to find your creativity. to forget what it feels like to play.
let’s play if you’re ready to:
- stop taking workshops and start having adventures
- turn your space into a wonderland
- remember what it feels like to create without rules
- find the magic hiding in your ordinary life
then let’s talk. no schedules required. no five-step programs. just pure, unfiltered imagination and permission to play again.
because sometimes the best way to find yourself isn’t in a carefully structured workshop or an expensive retreat. sometimes it’s in a tool shed in oklahoma, or a forgotten corner of your own backyard, just waiting for someone to show you how to see it differently.