It’s my birthday, and I’ll play if I want to…
I’ve been making time to journal in the mornings, and that’s served me well, thank you, Julia Cameron. The few weeks leading up to my birthday month have included some artist dates, and this breakthrough course with Chani, thanks to my girl Perryn, has me dancing to four whole songs before I officially start my workday.
As adults, especially those of us who carry a lot of responsibility, play can quietly slip off the calendar. It gets postponed, replaced with productivity, practicality, or the feeling that we’ll get to it later. Even a ten-minute play session with our pup, Teddy Bear, can get dismissed for adulting. But lately, I’ve been feeling how necessary play actually is, not as indulgence, but as nourishment.
Play reminds me that life is meant to be experienced, not just managed.
This birthday month, I’m giving myself permission to follow curiosity. To try things that feel a little unfamiliar. To say yes before I talk myself out of it. To trust that joy is not something to earn, but something to allow.
That mindset has made this season feel especially meaningful, particularly as I find myself part of a group exhibition filled with artists I admire. There is something quietly powerful about sharing space with others who are also showing up, creating, and offering their work to the world. Group exhibitions remind me that art is not a solitary act. It’s communal. It’s a conversation. It’s a shared pulse.
Being part of a show like this feels like both a celebration and a reflection, a moment to pause and acknowledge how far I’ve come and how many chapters still feel wide open.
Play doesn’t always look like fun in the obvious sense. Sometimes it looks like courage. Like walking into a room where you don’t know anyone. Like sharing work before it feels finished. Like letting yourself be seen without over-editing or over-explaining.
Stepping outside my comfort zone has taught me that growth rarely announces itself loudly. Sometimes it arrives quietly, disguised as an invitation. An invitation to show up differently. To loosen the grip. To trust the process.
This group exhibition at the Culture Council in Palm Beach feels like one of those invitations, a reminder that there is room for all of us. That creativity expands when it’s shared. That being part of something larger doesn’t diminish our individual voices, it amplifies them.
As I move through this birthday month, I’m holding onto a few intentions. To make time for play, even when life feels full. To keep saying yes to experiences that stretch me. To honor how special it feels to be creating, exhibiting, and dreaming alongside others.
And most of all, to remember that this life, this creative path, this season, is meant to be enjoyed.
For my birthday, I spent the day having so much fun.
I started it off by going to the beach with our pup, Teddy Bear. Then I went to my favorite Core 45 class, and after that, I got to go surfing on the perfect little, glassy wave with my husband. We came home, took a nap, had lunch, and I set off to get my hair done, which is definitely a luxury for me.
I got back just in time for my husband to take a few photos of me so I could update my portfolio, and then, lucky me, we went out for dinner at a friend’s house and danced with a bunch of friends to celebrate.
I have to say, this has been the most incredible birthday month yet. I’m so grateful for the luxury of being present and for all the ways I’ve been pushing myself outside of my comfort zone. Being part of this group exhibit has been really special, and having a full day of fun and play truly elevated my energy. It helped me ride that wave of momentum and get more organized around other projects I’ve been working on.
And I’m just so grateful for this opportunity. On Sunday, my husband and I leave for a birthday trip to Barbados, which will be filled with family, surfing, and, if I’m lucky, time to begin creating a Women Who Surf: Barbados chapter. I am so excited.
Cheers to play.
Cheers to possibility.
Cheers to stepping outside the comfort zone and finding ourselves right at home.

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