I have a theory.

No matter where you come from in the world, your language, your history, your age, your struggles, bubbles unite us all.

Children chase them. Adults pause for them. Animals watch and play with them, just as curious as we are. Bubbles make everyone feel joy, no matter what is going on in the world or where you came from, bubbles provide a simple moment in time of happiness.

A bubble asks nothing of you except presence. For a moment, you are not your story, your past, or your to-do list. You are simply here… watching wonder float.

I’ve been sitting with that truth for a long time.

As I’ve reached new milestones in my life, I’ve found myself reflecting not just on where I’ve been, but why I do what I do. I’ve always loved being a showman, bringing impossibility to life, offering joy, laughter, and awe. But as I step into this next chapter, I feel a deeper calling.

I want to create something that lasts beyond the applause. Something that ripples outward.

One of the greatest gifts of my career is learning. Learning from my mentors. Learning from new teachers from family, loved ones, fellow performers, audience members, and this extraordinary community that surrounds me.

Magic is a curious profession.

By design, you’re never meant to see the work behind the curtain.

You don’t see the countless hours of rehearsal. The failures. The repetition. The quiet frustration of perfecting a single movement, a breath, a beat. The audience sees only a few seconds, the moment when everything finally works, and my job is to make that moment look effortless. But that invisibility of effort can be heavy.

When your work is hidden, it’s easy to forget how much you’ve grown, or how much courage it took to get there. Many performers carry this weight silently. I’ve carried it too.

And it brought me back to my younger self.