If you’ve visited my website or seen my business materials, you’ve probably noticed the image of Zen stones. These balanced stones are more than a design choice-they are part of my story, my family’s story, and the way I understand myself as an artist, parent, and therapist.

For me, stones have always been more than objects. When my kids were young, anytime we went anywhere-whether to the park, the beach, or just down the road-they would gather stones. These stones became little transitional objects that helped them carry experiences from one place to another. Sometimes we painted them, sometimes we tucked them into our pockets, and sometimes we lined them up in small collections that felt like tiny worlds.

As we grew into family hikers and adventurers, we began to notice Zen stones along the trails-at trailheads, on mountain summits, even near lighthouses. We made it a ritual to stop, build, and photograph them. Each balanced stack felt like a quiet message: someone else had been here, had paused long enough to create something intentional, and had left it behind as a marker of presence. Over time, we began to see how these stones connected us-not only to one another, but also to the Earth and to a community of people we would never meet but who shared in the same simple practice.

The Zen stones are a symbol of balance, grounding, and connection. They remind me to stay centered when life feels chaotic, to notice beauty in the everyday, and to honor the delicate equilibrium between my roles as an artist, parent, therapist, teacher, entrepreneur-and most importantly, as an imperfect human being. They also embody impermanence: no matter how carefully we balance them, the wind, the rain, or the simple passage of time will eventually return them to an ordinary pile of stones. In that way, they echo the Buddhist wisdom that everything is temporary, that beauty can be fleeting, and that meaning is found not only in what endures, but in what inevitably changes.

By making Zen stones part of my professional identity, I’m carrying forward this deeply personal practice. They remind me that therapy, like art, is about creating space for balance, connection, and transformation-one intentional step, one mindful stone, at a time. And just like the stones themselves, therapy often holds moments of impermanence: growth emerges, shifts occur, and nothing stays exactly as it was. Yet within that change lies the possibility of healing, resilience, and the quiet beauty of becoming.