The Post I'd Write if I Wasn't Afraid of Big Bad Wolves
Little Red Riding Hood – Stay on the Path? Nah.
They told her not to stray.
She strayed.
Sometimes wandering is the only way you find yourself.
The First “Stay Small” Moment
In high school, I was told I’d never amount to a “real” artist because I didn’t have a voice of my own.
“Your work is all over the place. No one will ever know your name. You have to choose what you want to do.”
Me: “Why can’t my thing be that I don’t have a thing?”
Teacher: “That will never work.”
College wasn’t any better. My art professor — who ironed disappointment into her slacks — once told the entire class:
“None of you are going to be Van Gogh.”
My heart dropped like a stone.
Who the hell was she to tell me who I could or couldn’t become?
Maybe you’ve been told some version of that too —
that your way isn’t valid, your voice isn’t clear enough, your work doesn’t fit the mold.
The Myth of the Single Style
I knew the script:
Van Gogh had brushstrokes.
Picasso had angles.
Frida had her unflinching self-portraits.
If we can’t be neatly packaged like them, we’re told we don’t count.
But here’s the truth:
Sometimes the voice isn’t one sound.
Sometimes it’s the echo of everything.
Maybe, like me, you’ve been told to pick one thing.
That no one can write, paint, guide, design, and reinvent themselves and still be taken seriously.
That your CV — or your life — is “too much.”
But the greats didn’t pick one thing either.
Einstein juggled relativity, quantum theory, and statistical mechanics.
Darwin studied barnacles, orchids, worms, emotions, and evolution.
Leonardo painted, engineered, dissected, staged plays, and sketched helicopters.
Maya Angelou danced, sang, wrote, directed, narrated, and thundered truth.
David Bowie turned reinvention into a sport.
The greats didn’t shrink.
They expanded.
They cross-pollinated.
They said, “Watch me.”
Navigation for the Multi-Hyphenate
People who demand you “pick one thing” are people who have only ever taken ferries — boats someone else steered for them.
But you?
You move by stars.
By instinct.
By wind.
Your compass is internal.
What It Cost Me
Let’s be honest: expansion has a price.
I’ve been turned down for so many things I could make a scrapbook of rejection letters.
Residencies.
Movie jobs.
Design gigs.
Grants.
Schools.
Friendships.
Relationships.
Half the time the reason was some version of:
“You don’t fit the box.”
And half the time I never even saw the box.
I lost opportunities because I was too big, too visionary, too nonlinear, too much.
But here’s the part I’ve never said publicly:
I didn’t want fame.
I wanted proof that I existed.
That’s all it ever was.
And I survived those no’s because somewhere along the line, I decided to treat my detours like recalibrations, not failures.
Because I don’t know how to stop.
Because I don’t know how to quit people or ideas.
Because I was built to follow the thread — even when it tangles.
Claim Every IST
So yeah, I’m an IST.
ArtIST.
AlchemIST.
Exist-IST.
One of the many, messy, unstoppable kinds.
And you are too, if you’ve ever felt pulled in ten directions and dared to follow any of them.
Maybe we will never be known for one thing.
But we will be known for living it all:
The artistry.
The alchemy.
The inspiration.
The maps.
The mess.
We are not here to shrink into a single sentence.
We are here to expand into entire galaxies.
If we lived on a planet, it would be Jupiter —
the planet of expansion.
We’re here to push the boundaries of what it means to be human.
So don’t let them tell you to choose.
Don’t shrink.
Claim your ISTs.
Claim them all.
Expand.
Choose the crazy idea.
Follow the instinct.
Take action — and pause long enough for the universe to catch up.
If it doesn’t, wage loving war for your idea.
If you’re exhausted, rest.
If you’re bored, reinvent your thoughts.
Just don’t give up on yourself — or the idea that you’re here for more.
For Those Standing at the Edge of Reinvention
Here’s what I wish someone had told me when I stood at every cliff-edge of change, asking the questions you might be asking right now:
1. Your “Too Muchness” Is Your North Star
Every place you’ve been told you’re too loud, too emotional, too sensitive, too creative, too scattered, too intense…
That’s exactly where your compass is pointing.
Your edges are the coordinates.
Your bigness is the map.
Take five minutes and write this down:
Where have you been told to shrink?
Where have you been told to pick one thing?
Where have you been told to tone it down?
Those are your expansion points.
2. The Path Will Not Be Linear
Navigation is not a straight line.
Some days you lead.
Some days you drag yourself forward. For me it’s usually done kicking and screaming.
Some days the wind is at your back.
But the path is always revealing itself —
one instinct at a time.
You’re not lost.
You’re recalibrating.
3. A 30-Day Mini-Ritual for Multi-Hyphenates
If you’re overwhelmed or creatively stuck, try this:
Write down three things that keep calling you.
Circle the one that scares you the most.
That’s the one you follow for the next 30 days.
Make something small every day — a sketch, sentence, note, snapshot.
That becomes your breadcrumb trail.
Your instinct is your GPS.
Your desire is the engine.
Your courage is the ignition.