Category: Blog

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When You Thought You Found Your Purpose

There’s a strange kind of grief that comes when you realize the purpose you once believed in so deeply may no longer be yours.

At one point, it likely felt clear. You poured your time, energy, and heart into it. You shaped parts of your life around it. Maybe it was a career, a passion, or a dream that once gave your days direction and meaning. And for a while, it fit. It felt like the answer.

But life has a way of changing us.

Figure 1. Greater Good Science Center. (n.d.). Seven ways to find your purpose in life [Photograph]. University of California, Berkeley. https://greatergood.berkeley.edu/article/item/seven_ways_to_find_your_purpose_in_life

Sometimes the things that once felt like purpose were actually stepping stones. Important, meaningful chapters that helped us grow into who we are today. Letting go of that version of purpose can feel disorienting, almost like losing a part of your identity.

Yet purpose isn’t always something we find once and hold forever. It evolves with us.

What once felt like the right path may have simply prepared you for the next one. The skills you developed, the experiences you gathered, and the lessons you learned don’t disappear just because your direction changes. They come with you.

Finding purpose again after believing you had already found it requires a different kind of openness. It asks you to listen closely to what now feels meaningful. It asks you to trust that growth sometimes means outgrowing the dreams you once held tightly.

And perhaps the most comforting realization is this: purpose isn’t a single destination. It’s something we continue discovering as we change, learn, and move forward.

Sometimes losing one sense of purpose is simply the beginning of finding another.

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Starting Over in Your Late Thirties

There’s a quiet kind of courage that comes with starting over in your late thirties. It’s different from the fearless leaps we take in our twenties, when the world feels wide open and time seems endless. By this stage of life, starting over often means letting go of things you once believed would define you: careers, identities, plans you built carefully over the years. And that can feel terrifying.

Figure 1. Sheevo. (2023, December 11). Starting over in your 30s with courage and confidence [Photograph]. https://sheevo.com/starting-over-in-your-30s-with-courage-and-confidence/

But starting over at this age also comes with something powerful: clarity. You’ve lived enough life to understand what truly matters and what doesn’t. You’ve experienced success and disappointment, learned what drains your energy and what gives it back. The decisions you make now are rarely impulsive. They’re thoughtful, intentional, and often rooted in a deeper understanding of yourself.

There’s also a quiet strength in realizing that life doesn’t have to follow a linear timeline. Society often suggests that by your late thirties, you should have things “figured out.” But the truth is that life unfolds in chapters, and sometimes the most meaningful chapters come after unexpected turns.

Starting over doesn’t mean failure. Sometimes it means growth. Sometimes it means choosing alignment over comfort. And sometimes it simply means having the courage to admit that the person you were ten years ago is not the person you are today.

If anything, starting over later in life reminds us that it’s never too late to rewrite our story. It just means the story we’re writing now comes with more wisdom, more intention, and a deeper understanding of who we’re becoming.

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The Joy of Collecting Blind Boxes

Some collections begin with intention. Others begin with curiosity.

Blind boxes fall into the second category.

If you’ve never encountered one before, a blind box is exactly what it sounds like: a small sealed box containing a mystery figure. You know the possible characters you could receive, but you never know exactly which one is inside until you open it.

That small moment of surprise is part of the magic.

Brands like Popmart, Miniso, and Smiski have turned blind box collecting into a playful experience that feels a little like opening tiny pieces of art.

During my visit to Japan, I noticed these blind boxes everywhere. Gachapon was abundant and added to the joy. Entire stores were filled with colorful displays of characters waiting to be discovered. Walking through the aisles felt like stepping into a world where curiosity was encouraged and surprises were part of the fun.

Smiski Museum Series
Pop Mart blind boxes
Blind Box Products Display at MINISO store

Popmart figures often feel like miniature sculptures, each with carefully designed details and expressive personalities. Smiskis, with their soft glowing green bodies and slightly mysterious poses, have a charm that’s both quirky and oddly calming.

Miniso also carries a variety of small collectibles that make it easy to start a collection without planning to.

What makes blind boxes so enjoyable is the sense of anticipation. You study the characters on the packaging, wondering which one might appear. When you finally open the box, there’s a small moment of excitement as you discover who you got.

Sometimes you receive your favorite character right away.

Other times, the surprise becomes part of the story.

Collecting blind boxes reminds me that not everything needs to be predictable. There’s joy in the unknown, even in small moments like opening a tiny box.

And occasionally, those little surprises end up sitting on a desk or shelf, quietly reminding you of the fun that curiosity can bring.

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The Quiet Joy of Bullet Journaling

There is something deeply grounding about sitting down with a blank page and a pen. In a world that moves quickly and constantly pulls our attention in different directions, journaling has become one of the few spaces where I can slow down and simply think.

Bullet Planner Ideas. (n.d.). Bullet journal supplies [Image]. https://bulletplannerideas.com/bullet-journal-supplies/

For me, bullet journaling isn’t just about productivity or planning. It’s about creating a small moment of intention in the day. A place to capture ideas, reflect on experiences, and sometimes just doodle when my mind needs a pause.

Over time, I’ve discovered that the tools I use make the experience even more enjoyable.

One of the most important pieces is the journal itself. I prefer dotted notebooks with heavier weight paper so that pen inks don’t bleed through to the next page. The dots provide just enough structure to keep layouts organized while still giving the freedom to design pages however I want.

Bullet Planner Ideas. (n.d.). Bullet journal supplies [Image]. https://bulletplannerideas.com/bullet-journal-supplies/

Pens are another small but important detail. I tend to gravitate toward smooth flowing pens that glide easily across the page. There’s something satisfying about writing with a pen that doesn’t require effort, where the ink just moves naturally with each thought.

Then come the fun extras.

Washi tape has become one of my favorite ways to add personality to pages. Sometimes it frames a quote or marks the beginning of a new month. Other times it simply adds color to an otherwise simple spread.

Planning stickers and highlighters are also small joys in the process. They help visually organize ideas, tasks, and reflections. A simple highlight or sticker can turn a basic page into something that feels more creative and alive.

And then there are stamps. Stamps add a playful element to journaling that reminds me not to take the process too seriously. Sometimes they create tiny icons for headers, and other times they simply decorate the page.

What I love most about bullet journaling is that there are no rules. Some days the pages are structured and organized. Other days they are messy and filled with thoughts that needed somewhere to land.

Either way, the page is always there, ready to hold whatever the day brings.

And that simple ritual of pen meeting paper continues to be one of my favorite quiet moments.

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A Day at Chateau Lill | Quiet Moments, Golden Light, and the Beauty of Presence

Some wedding days feel loud with excitement. Others feel soft, unfolding gently, moment by moment, like a story you’re meant to experience slowly.

This day at Chateau Lill felt like the latter.

From the beginning, there was a quiet intimacy woven into every part of the day. Inside the bridal suite, sunlight poured through the windows while the bride stood still, surrounded by the people who love her most. Hands carefully buttoned lace, adjusted delicate details, and moved with the kind of tenderness that doesn’t need words. It was one of those moments that reminds me why I love photographing the getting-ready hours. Not because of the dress itself, but because of what it represents: support, anticipation, and the quiet calm before everything begins.

As the day moved outside, the energy shifted into something more romantic and cinematic. The gardens and natural textures of Chateau Lill created the perfect backdrop. Soft greens, filtered light, and a sense of stillness that allowed the couple to simply be together. Watching them embrace felt effortless, like they had forgotten the camera entirely. Those are always my favorite moments. When love feels less like a pose and more like a conversation happening quietly between two people.

One of the most unforgettable moments came just before the evening settled in. Guests moved around them in a blur of motion while the couple stood completely grounded in the center of it all. Still, connected, and fully present. Time seemed to slow down. The world kept moving, but for a brief moment, it felt like only the two of them existed.

That’s what I’ll remember most about this day at Chateau Lill: the contrast between movement and stillness. The laughter and celebration surrounding moments of deep calm. The way light softened everything, turning ordinary seconds into something timeless.

Wedding days pass quickly, but photographs allow us to return to the feeling. The quiet breaths, the gentle touches, the moments that might otherwise slip away. And this day was full of them.

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Chateau Lill | Where Light, Celebration, and Stillness Meet

There are some places that feel less like a venue and more like a pause – a breath between moments. Chateau Lill has always felt that way to me.

Nestled quietly among the vines, the day unfolded slowly, the way meaningful days often do. The air carried that soft stillness that only vineyards seem to hold, where time feels unhurried and conversations linger a little longer. The kind of place where light doesn’t just exist, it wraps around everything gently.

From the moment I arrived, there was a quiet energy in the space. Not rushed. Not loud. Just present. Guests moved between laughter and conversation while the landscape held everything together. Rows of vines stretching toward the horizon, soft textures, and warm tones that seemed to glow as the day progressed.

As a photographer, I find myself constantly observing the in-between moments. The way someone reaches for another’s hand without thinking. The soft smiles exchanged when no one else is looking. The quiet anticipation that exists before the bigger moments unfold. Chateau Lill has a way of making those moments feel even more visible.

The light shifted beautifully throughout the day. Early afternoon felt bright and airy, while evening settled into a golden calm that wrapped the entire property in warmth. It reminded me why I love photographing here. The environment doesn’t compete with the story; it enhances it.

What stood out most, though, was the feeling. A sense of ease. A reminder that celebrations don’t always need to be loud to be meaningful. Sometimes the most powerful moments happen in the quieter spaces. Shared glances, deep breaths, and the simple joy of being together.

As the day came to a close, I found myself lingering for a moment longer, watching the light fade over the vines. Days like this always leave me grateful, not just for the beauty of the place, but for the chance to witness stories unfolding in real time.

Chateau Lill isn’t just a location. It’s a feeling. And every time I leave, I carry a little bit of that calm with me.

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Osaka Nights: Neon Lights, Nintendo Dreams, and the Energy of Dotonbori

Osaka felt like stepping into a living, breathing movie. It was loud, colorful, fast-moving, and completely alive. Most of our time was spent in Dotonbori, and honestly, it was the perfect place to experience the city’s personality all at once. Everywhere you look there are glowing signs, giant moving billboards, crowds flowing through the streets, and the constant hum of excitement that makes you want to keep walking just to see what’s around the next corner.

The lights reflecting off the canal at night felt almost unreal. One moment we were stopping to watch street performers, the next we were laughing our way through narrow side streets filled with food stalls and restaurants calling out to hungry travelers. Osaka has this playful energy. It doesn’t feel rushed, but it never slows down either. Every few steps felt like a new memory waiting to happen.

Pokémon, Nintendo, and a Little Bit of Childhood Joy

One of the highlights for me was visiting the Pokémon Center and the Nintendo store. Walking in felt like reconnecting with a piece of childhood. There were colorful displays, familiar characters everywhere, and people of all ages equally excited to be there. It wasn’t just shopping; it felt like stepping into a shared nostalgia that everyone around us understood without needing words.

There’s something special about experiencing places like this while traveling. You realize how global these stories are…how they connect people across languages and backgrounds. It made the whole trip feel playful and light, like Osaka was inviting us to lean into curiosity and fun.

Exploring Grand Front Osaka

We also spent time at Grand Front Osaka, which felt like a completely different side of the city. Modern, sleek, and full of energy. This was a contrast to the neon chaos of Dotonbori. It was the perfect place to slow down for a bit, browse, eat, and just observe everyday life moving around us.

I loved that balance: one moment surrounded by futuristic city architecture, the next back in Dotonbori under flashing signs and endless food options.

The Heart of It All: Dotonbori

If I had to describe Dotonbori in one word, it would be sensory. The smell of food drifting through the streets. The sounds of laughter and conversation. The giant signs competing for attention overhead. The constant feeling that something exciting is happening just nearby.

There were so many places to eat, so many lights and sights to take in, and honestly, no real pressure to have a plan. Osaka felt best when we just wandered and let the city lead us.

And maybe that’s what I’ll remember most: not a single moment, but the feeling of being fully present in a place that never stops glowing.

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A Different Side of Osaka: Osaka Castle & TeamLab Botanical Gardens

After the bright chaos and neon energy of Dotonbori, our visit to Osaka Castle and the TeamLab Botanical Gardens felt like stepping into a completely different rhythm of the city. It was slower, quieter, and deeply immersive in a way that invited reflection instead of excitement.

It reminded me that Osaka isn’t just lights and late-night energy. There’s history here. Stillness. Space to breathe.

Walking Through History at Osaka Castle

Visiting Osaka Castle felt like stepping into a story that has lived for centuries. Surrounded by wide open grounds, stone walls, and peaceful walking paths, the atmosphere was calm, almost grounding, compared to the busy streets we had been exploring earlier in the trip.

Standing there, looking up at the castle against the sky, I couldn’t help but think about how much history lives within its walls. The contrast between old and new felt especially powerful. In one direction, you see a symbol of Japan’s past; in another, the modern skyline quietly reminds you how the city has continued to evolve.

We took our time walking through the park, watching people picnic, stroll, and simply enjoy the space. It felt less like sightseeing and more like participating in everyday life. It was a small but meaningful way to experience Japanese culture beyond the tourist highlights.

TeamLab Botanical Gardens: Where Nature Meets Light

As the evening arrived, we headed to the TeamLab Botanical Gardens, and the experience felt almost dreamlike.

Unlike traditional museums or galleries, this was art that moved with nature. Light installations flowed through trees, pathways, and gardens, responding to movement and creating moments that felt alive. The slower pace encouraged you to wander, pause, and notice small details. The glow of lights against leaves, reflections shifting as people walked by, the quiet awe shared by everyone around us.

It felt meditative.

There was something beautiful about experiencing technology and nature together in such harmony. Instead of overwhelming the environment, the art seemed to enhance it, making you more aware of your surroundings and more present in the moment.

Seeing Osaka Through a Different Lens

This day showed me a softer side of Osaka. One rooted in history, art, and intention rather than speed and spectacle.

From the timeless presence of Osaka Castle to the immersive calm of TeamLab, I felt like I was seeing layers of the city that you could easily miss if you only focused on the neon lights and busy streets. It reminded me that travel isn’t just about checking off famous places. It’s about slowing down enough to feel the culture, to observe, and to let a place reveal itself to you.

And in that slower pace, Osaka felt just as vibrant. Just in a quieter, more meaningful way.

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A Rehearsal Dinner Above the City | The Charlotte, Seattle

There is something quietly special about the night before a wedding.

It’s softer.
More intimate.
Less structured.

When this couple told me they were flying in from out of town and wanted to add rehearsal dinner coverage, I immediately loved the idea. I typically photograph engagement sessions for my wedding clients. Those are always meaningful and full of anticipation, but this felt different in the best way.

This wasn’t posed anticipation.
This was presence.

The dinner was held at The Charlotte in downtown Seattle, perched high above the city on the 16th floor. It was a warm September evening…one of those rare Pacific Northwest days that feels like summer holding on just a little longer.

The sky was overcast, as it so often is in Washington, but somehow that made the evening even more beautiful. From above, the gray clouds softened everything. The views stretched wide through floor-to-ceiling windows with Elliott Bay shimmering in the distance, Smith Tower standing timeless, Lumen Field anchoring the skyline.

There’s a life happening down at street level.
Cars moving. People rushing. City noise. Momentum.

And then there’s another life up high in the sky.

Up there, everything slows. The city feels quieter. More intentional. Almost cinematic.

A Different Kind of Engagement Session

Between welcoming guests and hosting dinner, we carved out time for a few engagement-style portraits. Just the two of them, stepping away for a moment.

No timeline pressure.
No production.
Just a pause.

The skyline behind them felt surreal, as if the city itself were celebrating with them. The warmth of the evening light reflecting against the glass, the soft gray sky, the hum of downtown far below.

It was such a beautiful shift from the traditional engagement session format. Instead of meeting somewhere separate and curated, these portraits were woven into their story…the night before they promised forever, surrounded by the people who love them most.

Modern Elegance & Meaningful Details

Inside, The Charlotte’s modern interior created an elegant contrast to the soft skies outside. Clean lines. Artistic touches. And a striking “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” artwork anchoring the space.

Classic, iconic, a nod to timeless romance.

The décor felt intentional without being overwhelming. It allowed the focus to stay where it belonged: on conversation, laughter, toasts, and the quiet glances exchanged between two people about to step into marriage.

There’s something incredibly grounding about rehearsal dinners. It’s where stories are told. Where parents hold back tears. Where friends remember who you were before you met, and celebrate who you’ve become together.

It was a relaxed evening. A warm September sky. The city stretching endlessly below.

And the gift of witnessing a couple fully present, not just as bride and groom, but as hosts, friends, children, and partners, the night before everything officially begins.

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Photographing Paris: A Core Memory, On Film

Three years ago, I photographed two pre-wedding portrait sessions in Paris.
The Ritz. The Louvre. Pont Alexandre III.

Even typing those names still feels surreal.

I remember standing in the early morning light, camera in hand, feeling like I was holding two realities at once:
I was living inside a core memory… and I was there to do a job.

There’s a strange tension in that.
The desire to fully be somewhere…to feel the air, the architecture, the hum of the city…while also carrying the quiet responsibility of creating something beautiful and lasting for someone else.

It felt cinematic. Almost unreal.

When I was in elementary, I watched the Olsen twins in their Paris movie and imagined what that city must feel like. The fashion, the romance, the bridges at sunset. Paris felt like a dream reserved for grown-up versions of myself; a future self I wasn’t yet sure I’d become.

And then suddenly, I was there.
Not just as a tourist. Not just as a dreamer.
But as a photographer.

An artist.
Working.

There is something deeply grounding about doing what you love in a place you once only saw through a screen. It collapses time. The younger version of me and the present version of me felt very close in those moments.

Why I Chose Film

For those sessions, I made it intentional to shoot both digital and film, but I prioritized film just as much.

Film has taught me to slow down.

Every frame costs something.
Each click is literal money.

Film demands intention.

It asks: Are you sure?
It asks: Did you really see that moment?

It forces me to trust my eye. To compose carefully. To wait. To feel.

What’s funny, and maybe even more poetic, is that I didn’t get around to developing the film until recently. Life happened. Work happened. Time passed.

And then one day, years later, I finally saw those images come to life.

It felt like stepping back into Paris all over again.

The light at the Louvre.
The quiet grandeur of the Ritz.
The golden glow stretching across Pont Alexandre III.

I experienced those memories once in real time…
and then again, newly, through the softness and depth only film can give.

There is something sacred about that delay. Film doesn’t rush you. It lets the memory age before revealing it back to you.

How Film Has Shaped My Digital Work

There is nothing quite like photographing on film.

And even when I’m shooting digital now, I carry that same discipline with me.

I don’t rely on rapid-fire bursts hoping one frame will be “the one.”
I move with intention.
I look longer.
I wait.

Film changed the way I see in both my professional work as well as in my personal everyday.

It taught me that photography isn’t about volume, it’s about presence. It’s about the art of noticing. It’s about honoring the moment as it unfolds instead of trying to overpower it.

Every time I get behind a lens, I feel like I’m photographing a movie.

But Paris felt like stepping inside one.

And the most beautiful part?
Three years later, I can still see it clearly.

That younger girl who once watched a Paris movie and dreamed?
She would not believe where we’ve stood.