Singer-songwriter. Author. Spiritual companion. Community-builder.
I have spent much of my life listening for what is true beneath the noise—through music, through stories, through prayer, and through the ordinary moments that ask us to see ourselves and one another differently.
I was raised in Hawaiʻi with the spirit of mālama i kekahi i kekahi: to care for one another. That understanding has shapes the way I write, the way I make music, and the kinds of spaces I hope to create—places where people can arrive as they are, feel welcomed, and remember that they belong.
The story behind the book
Steady or Not, Here We Come grew from moments in my life that continued to speak long after they had passed.
Some were tender. Some were painful. Some were funny, awkward, or wonderfully ordinary. A painted line across a driveway, a green door, a song waiting to be written, a relationship asking to be seen more clearly—each became an opening into a deeper question:
What remains true when life does not feel steady?
As I gathered these stories, I began to recognize a movement running through them. We may spend years searching for belonging, healing, peace, and wholeness as though they are somewhere outside us. Yet sometimes what we are seeking has been with us all along, waiting to be remembered.
This book is not a set of instructions for becoming a better or more spiritual person. It is a personal offering from one imperfect human being to another. Through stories, musings, and guided meditations, I invite you to pause with me, question some of the stories you have carried, and notice the Presence that has remained with you through every unfinished part of your life.
A life shaped by music
Long before I began writing this book, songs were helping me make sense of the world.
I am an award-winning singer-songwriter with eighteen albums and a musical journey that has carried me from intimate rooms to festival stages. Music has remained one of the ways I listen, remember, and offer what I have discovered to others.
The songs gathered in The Remembering Room continue the experience of the book. They explore breath, stillness, journey, blessing, justice, and the steady presence of Love. I think of them not as performances directed at an audience, but as companions—songs that can sit beside you for a while.
Creating spaces of welcome
For nearly two decades, I have served as Music Director at Unity in Naperville, Illinois. I am also co-founder and Spiritual Director of Mālama Kekahi, a Community of Co-Creators grounded in connection, care, and the belief that we can help create a more loving world together.
Whether I am leading music, hosting a gathering, writing a meditation, or welcoming someone into a room for the first time, I return to the same intention: to make space.
Space to breathe.
Space to be honest.
Space to listen.
Space to recognize the Sacred Spark within ourselves and one another.
An invitation
I do not always feel steady. I do not have every answer, and I have learned not to wait for certainty before taking the next step.
What I can offer is what I have lived: stories from the road, songs from the heart, practices that have helped me return to center, and the reminder that Love remains present even when life feels unfinished.
You are welcome to bring your questions, your joy, your grief, your doubts, and the parts of your story that are still unfolding.
We may not always feel steady.
Love is.
Steady or not, here we come.