Cambridge, Massachusetts, October 2026
Being in a new place at a new stage in my life has made me appreciate the ordinary things I see. The autumn leaves changing color, sunlight filtering through the trees, and people walking by, each living their own lives. My time here has been even better than I expected. I’ve learned things I might never have thought about if I hadn’t come, and I’ve met people from different backgrounds, cultures, and beliefs who have shown me new ways of seeing the world. I think that’s truly beautiful. Everyone has their own world inside them, shaped over a lifetime, and being allowed into even a small part of that is a privilege. These experiences have not only changed what I know, but also made me realize how much I still don’t know. I see that as one of the best parts of learning and living, and that knowing there’s always more to discover.
I’ve always found comfort in not knowing what comes next. Life has a mystery. Where we’re headed, who we’ll meet, how we’ll change, and how our beliefs might shift over time. We move forward with our hopes and ideas, sometimes making progress, sometimes circling back to old questions. I think all of it has value. I often remind myself how important it is to find what truly matters to me and to have the courage to follow it, even if the future is unclear. Our time here is limited, and I want to spend mine doing what I love and believe in. I’ve also realized that the world isn’t just here for us, we must always give something back to it. Whether through art, teaching, friendship, or simple kindness, we all have something to offer others. Our actions don’t have to be huge to matter. It amazes me that billions of people, each with their own dreams and struggles, shape the world together. It’s beautiful to know we each have a role.
This month, I started practicing yoga, something I hadn’t really thought about before. I’ve been going to classes at Breathe Cambridge, a studio near Harvard Square, and I can honestly say it’s become one of the best parts of my life. The instructors are knowledgeable and kind, and there’s a real sense of community that I’ve come to value. What stands out to me is how many different kinds of people come together to practice—different ages, backgrounds, abilities, and experiences, all learning together. I’m not very flexible and still a beginner, but truly that’s why I enjoy it so much. Starting something new is humbling. You have to accept your limits, be okay with not being great at first, and trust that you’ll get better with time and practice. I think we sometimes forget how nice it is to be a beginner. There’s no pressure to be amazing, but just a chance to show up, pay attention, and try again each time. Someone told me recently that yoga is for everyone, but not for lazy people! That made me laugh, but now I get what they meant. It takes effort, and I’ve found a lot of satisfaction in giving it my best. I think yoga will be part of my life for a long time.
The most exciting change for me has been returning to painting. After months of settling into graduate school meeting new people, reading, learning, and getting used to my new surroundings, I’ve finally started a new large painting. I promised myself I’d keep painting while at Harvard, but even though I wanted to, I kept putting it off. For a while, I worried I’d waited too long and lost some of the drive that used to keep me in the studio for hours. But now, standing in front of this new painting, I see those months differently. Maybe I wasn’t delaying at all and maybe I was living through the experiences that would give this work its meaning. I don’t think inspiration can always be forced, and I don’t think artists can fully understand how their imagination works. Instead, sometimes feelings grow inside us before we even notice. An image, a conversation, a day outside, or a memory of someone we love can stay with us, and we don’t know what it will become. Then, one day, something brings these pieces together, and we’re ready to create.
A lot of what I feel for this painting comes from the autumn I’ve spent in Cambridge. The colors of the leaves, the warmth of the season, the friendships I’ve made, and the moments that remind me how lucky I am to be here. I can see these experiences showing up in my work—sometimes in the colors and shapes, and sometimes in feelings that are harder to explain. I’ve come to think that an artist’s work is closely tied to their life. Everything we go through becomes part of us, and even times when we don’t make much can be valuable. Of course, making art takes discipline, and not every delay is inspiration. Sometimes, you have to start, ready or not. But I also think paying attention to life really matters. I’d rather make art that comes from real experiences than spend all my time in the studio without living. Over the past few months, I’ve grown a lot as a person and as an artist, and I think that growth is starting to show in my painting. I believe in this new work. Most of all, I’ve rediscovered the excitement of painting, and that feels wonderful.
There’s one last thought I’ve been thinking about lately. As much as I love art, I’ve realized there’s so much more to life than just what matters to me. Sometimes I think about how two people can see the same world so differently. I might get lost in a painting, through its colors, its composition, or the artist's story. Someone else might feel that same excitement watching basketball, listening to music, studying the stars, or working with their hands. What art means to me, basketball might mean to someone else. Both experiences are meaningful, even if we don’t share the same passion. I find this interesting, and it’s made me want to understand what other people care about. We’re all shaped by our own worlds, the people who love us, what we’ve been through, and what inspires us. I want to stay curious about these differences instead of just sticking to what I know. There’s something special about seeing that someone else’s passion can be as deep as mine, even if I don’t fully get it.
As I write this, I feel very grateful for this time in my life. I’ve found new interests, made close friends, challenged how I see the world, and returned to the work I love most. I don’t know what the next months will bring, and I’m okay with that. I hope to keep learning, painting, meeting new people, and letting life surprise me. There’s still so much I want to learn and give. For now, I’m just happy to be here, painting, surrounded by good people, and excited about what’s still to come.
Beginning again.