After Opening the Studio

There comes a moment when something you’ve lived with quietly leaves the studio and begins a life of its own.

That moment arrived last week.

For months, I STAY lived here among watercolor palettes, photographs, notebooks, cups of tea, and ordinary mornings. The work unfolded slowly, asking me to practice the same rhythm it now invites others into: to pay attention, deepen relationship, and return often.

Then the studio door opened.

Books began arriving in new homes.

Messages began finding their way back.

One reader wrote something that has stayed with me:

“I STAY is less a book to read than an experience to return to.”

I couldn’t have asked for a more generous reflection.

Not because it was praise, but because it recognized the heart of what I hoped to make.

I STAY was never intended to be read once and placed on a shelf.

It was created to become a quiet companion.

A book to leave beside a favorite chair.

To open with a morning cup of tea.

To return to during seasons of uncertainty, celebration, grief, or ordinary days that simply ask us to slow down.

As I write this, I’m sitting with the same teacup that accompanied so much of the writing.

It reminds me that practices are rarely dramatic.

They are built through small returns.

Thank you to everyone who has welcomed I STAY into your homes and your lives.

The conversation is just beginning.