A smiling middle-aged man with gray hair and beard, wearing a gray shirt and a black necklace with a pendant, standing outdoors in a garden with trees and flowering bushes.

I’m a native Texan, a singer-songwriter, a piano player, a storyteller, and a lifelong seeker who has spent a lot of years trying to make sense of being human through music.

I started playing piano by ear when I was four, and in one way or another, I’ve been at those same 88 keys ever since. The music has taken a lot of different forms along the way—gospel, jazz, country, pop, soul, theatre, kirtan, chant—but the thread running through it has remained remarkably simple: connection.

I’ve sometimes called myself a spiritual sponge. I’ve never been particularly interested in finding one box and staying inside it. I’m drawn to the places where traditions meet, to teachings rooted in love and depth, and to the possibility that underneath all the different names and languages we use, we may be talking about something much more connected than we realize.

Over the years, I’ve recorded fourteen albums, including The Gospel of Zen, which received three OUT Music Award nominations. My song Unbound was selected as the theme song for the Global Women’s Empowerment Network, I was featured on The CW Network’s Troubadour TX alongside fellow Texas singer-songwriters, and I’ve received multiple Posi Awards from emPower Music & Arts.

But music has never stayed neatly inside the recording studio.

I’ve worked as an actor on stage and screen, created and performed my one-man show When Gary Met Harry: The Music of Harry Warren, and spent the past decade traveling the country as an artist in the New Thought music community. Whether I’m performing for hundreds of people, leading a room in song, or sitting behind a piano with a handful of folks gathered around it, I’m interested in the same thing: what happens when we stop performing at one another and actually meet.

These days, I serve as Artist-in-Residence at the Center for Spiritual Living in Reno, Nevada. I’m still writing, recording, traveling, teaching, asking questions, and figuring things out.

And I’m still sitting down at the piano.

Same 88 keys. Same two hands.

Still listening for what wants to come through.