Welcome back to Infinite Threads!
When I began this podcast, I thought I was starting something for you—to share the lessons I’ve learned, the hope I’ve fought for, the love I believe in with all my heart. What I didn’t realize was that, somewhere along the way, this journey would turn back toward me and change my life in ways I couldn’t have predicted.
I used to think love was something you brought out for the special moments—birthdays, holidays, big occasions—those times when it seemed “right” to say the words or make the gesture. But living inside this message week after week has taught me that love is not an accessory to life. It’s the thread that runs through everything—through the easy days, the messy days, the days when nothing seems to be going right, and the moments you think no one is even watching. Somewhere between my first hesitant recordings and now, it stopped being something I talked about and became the lens I live by.
And here’s the truth: that lens hasn’t always been easy to keep clear. Love often asks me for the opposite of what my pride, impatience, or fear would prefer to give. But the more I’ve chosen it, the more I’ve noticed my own edges soften. I’ve caught myself pausing before reacting, asking, “Is this coming from love?” And when the answer is no, I’ve learned to step back, take a breath, and find my way back before the damage is done. That’s growth I didn’t have when I started this journey.
I’ve also had the privilege of watching this same transformation in the people closest to me. My friend Herbie—whose creativity and passion inspire me daily—has shown me that love can be expressed in the way you throw yourself fully into your craft, not for applause, but because it matters. Pepper has reminded me what resilience looks like when you’ve lived through storms and still choose to write words that light a path for others. Maria—whose friendship has been a steady, quiet anchor—She is someone with which I share a soul, she has shown me that sometimes the most powerful form of love is simply showing up, again and again, without keeping score.
And then there’s Pete. Pete is like family. We’ve both walked through our own metaphorical fires—different in detail, but similar in heat. We know what it is to lose and to keep moving forward anyway. Now he’s facing a season of deep personal loss, and while I can’t take away his grief, I can stand beside him in it, just as he’s done for me. Pete has shown me that love sometimes means standing in the smoke with someone, holding steady until the air clears, and being willing to do it again if you have to.
When I think of Herbie’s dedication, Pepper’s resilience, Maria’s steady presence, and Pete’s courage, I see the living proof of something I’ve come to believe with all my heart: none of us is an island. My own changes aren’t just the result of my choices—they’re reflections of the people I’ve let walk beside me. Every conversation, every shared moment of laughter, every difficult truth, every act of kindness between us becomes another stitch in the fabric of who we’re becoming together.
This is the truth I want to leave you with as we close the week: the journey changes us, but only if we let it. Only if we’re willing to be honest about where we’ve been, humble about where we are, and open to where we still need to grow. We may start out thinking we’re here to give something to others, but somewhere along the way we discover that they’ve been giving something back to us all along.
So keep walking. Keep choosing. And keep letting love do its quiet, miraculous work in you. One day you’ll look back and realize—you’re not just telling the story of love anymore. You’re living it. And you’re living it in the company of the people who make the journey worth taking.
Infinite Threads is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
