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AWARENOW

THE WORLD'S OFFICIAL MAGAZINE FOR CAUSES

THE EDGE EDITION

WHERE GRIT MEETS GREATNESS

‘THE POWER OF CONNECTION’

RYAN GUZMAN

THE EDGE EDITION

ON THE COVER: RYAN GUZMAN PHOTO BY: FREYA RAY

AwareNow Magazine is a monthly publication produced by AwareNow Media™, a storytelling platform dedicated to creating and sustaining positive social change with content that inspires and informs, while raising awareness for causes one story at a time.

REST

MICHELLE WEGER

BEYOND THE SCOREBOARD

PAUL S. ROGERS

THE

RYAN GUZMAN

EDGES

SIMA

ONCE

DR. TODD BROWN

ALLIÉ MCGUIRE

FROM

TO HIGHER ED DR. VICTOR RIOS, SONJA MONTIEL

NITYA LOHIYA, TANITH HARDING

THE ARCHITECTURE OF PEACE

IRFAN PULLANI, ALEXANDER TAYLOR

KEVIN HINES, ERIN MACAULEY

edge: (n.) an advantage or a critical position from which change is possible

When it comes to causes, the edge is more than a place—it’s a proving ground. It’s where the human spirit is tested, where we stand at the brink of despair yet dare to step forward into possibility. The edge is where humans and the Human Cause meet, where we refuse to let defeat deﬁne us and instead carve new victories from struggle.

In today’s global arena, this edge is sharper than ever. It demands grit, courage, and the resolve to transform pain into progress. But it also asks for more: for science that seeks truth, for compassion that binds us together, and for love that lights the way forward.

This month’s cover story with 9-1-1 star Ryan Guzman reminds us of the power of heritage—how his story, rooted in culture and craft, connects to our shared story as humans. His heritage, like all of ours, is not just history—it’s the foundation for where we go next.

At the edge, we don’t retreat. We rise. We redeﬁne what it means to endure, to innovate, to unite. And it is here, at this very edge, where grit meets greatness.

AwareNow More Than Ever.

ALLIÉ McGUIRE

CEO & Co-Founder of AwareNow Media

Allié McGuire began her career as a performance poet, transitioned into digital storytelling as a wine personality, and later produced the Hollywood Film Festival. Now, as co-founder of AwareNow Media, she uses her platform to elevate voices and champion causes, connecting audiences to stories that inspire change.

JACK McGUIRE

President & Co-Founder of AwareNow Media

Jack McGuire’s career spans the Navy, hospitality, and producing the Hollywood Film Festival. Now, he co-leads AwareNow Media with Allié, focusing on powerful storytelling for worthy causes. His commitment to service fuels AwareNow’s mission to connect and inspire audiences.

The views and opinions expressed in AwareNow are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official Any content provided by our columnists or interviewees is of their opinion and not intended to malign any religion, ethnic group, political group, organization, company, or individual. Stories shared are not intended to vilify anyone or anything. Their intent is to make you think.

* Please note that you may find a spelling or punctuation error here or there, as our Editor-In-Chief has MS and lost vision in her right eye. That said, she still has perfect vision in her left and rocks it as best as she can.

MICHELLE WEGER ENTREPRENEUR, SPEAKER & AUTHOR

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH MICHELLE WEGER

REST ASSURED NAVIGATING

NARCOLEPSY WITH COURAGE AND CREATIVITY

Narcolepsy is often misunderstood, reduced to punchlines about “falling asleep anywhere.” For Michelle Weger, it reshaped her life completely, rerouting her from the dream of becoming a neurosurgeon to building a multi-million-dollar business engineered around rest, resilience, and radical systems thinking. Alongside her Great Dane service dog, Quinn, Michelle is redeﬁning what it means to live—and thrive—with an invisible disability.

ALLIÉ: For someone who's never really understood what narcolepsy is or actually feels like—including me—how would you describe a sleep attack in real life? What's happening in your body and your mind at that moment?

MICHELLE: That's the best way to describe it. You know when your phone starts to get maybe two-and-a-half, three years old, the warranty’s worn off, and all of a sudden the battery seems to drop from like 60% to 20% just like that? Yeah, it's very similar to that—except instead of 20%, it's more like 5%. So you're in a serious panic. You've got to ﬁnd a charger—in my case, a place that I can safely sleep. Anywhere and everywhere in public? Not exactly the safest,

At the time my symptoms started, I was 17.

MICHELLE WEGER

ENTREPRENEUR, SPEAKER & AUTHOR OF ‘DON'T SNOOZE YOUR DREAMS: LESSONS FROM LIFE WITH NARCOLEPSY’

“What’s wild about the ﬁve-year timeline is that my diagnosis was fast. The average right now is 10 to 15 years from onset to diagnosis.”

ALLIÉ: And so when that happens and you just go into sleep mode without granting permission—without warning— how long do these episodes last? When do you wake, and how do you wake?

MICHELLE: Everyone's narcolepsy is different in terms of the length. For me, as short as ﬁve minutes, as long as half an hour. I'm very fortunate, though, that I have a service dog. For those who saw the video version, you saw her giving me a kiss a second ago. She actually alerts to oncoming sleep episodes before they happen, which means I can take medication to stop them. Since I’ve had her, I have not fallen asleep in public even once.

ALLIÉ: That's wild. OK, so—game changer. I want to get more into Quinn, but I want to stick with you for a moment. I'd like to go back, because you once dreamed of becoming a neurosurgeon and a pilot—you were flexible with your big dreams. But narcolepsy rerouted that path. Could you take me back to that time? What did letting go of those dreams feel like, look like, and how did you find the resilience to find a new dream?

MICHELLE: At the time my symptoms started, I was 17. I was in university in a super prestigious program that only accepted 10 people a year, and we were already down to only seven people at this point around Thanksgiving. I started falling asleep in class. The moment that happened, it was impossible to sustain my grades in this particular program, which was diagnostic psychology—the study of cells. Meaning microscopes. In the dark. All day, every day. Game over for a narcoleptic.

So in that moment, it was a quick pivot to ensure I didn’t fail. It was a panic response. I had to switch to something more hands-on and physical, so I didn’t fail my first year of university. I changed to environmental science and ecology because you got to go on boats, study fish, collect specimens in nature—all things that kept my body moving. I had no idea what was going on. I wouldn’t be diagnosed for five years after that point. So at that point it was all symptom management and fast decisions. Otherwise, I would’ve failed out, lost the money, and been in a much worse spot.

ALLIÉ: Yeah. So it’s crazy to me that the diagnosis didn’t come until ﬁve years later, after symptoms started presenting. What did you think in between? Did you think you were just vitamin deﬁcient or something?

MICHELLE: They’ll do iron tests, thyroid tests, depression quizzes, and when all those come back normal, they go back through that same list again and again. I get it—I was young, I was very ﬁt at the time from having done provincial-level gymnastics as a teenager. So I looked very “normal.” And when a university student says, “I’m really tired, I’m sleepy all the time,” it’s like—yeah, it’s hard when you’re away from home for the ﬁrst time.

Narcolepsy is very rare—one in 2,000 people is the stat. Most doctors I’ve met hadn’t met one before me. But what’s wild about the ﬁve-year timeline is that my diagnosis was fast. The average right now is 10 to 15 years from onset to diagnosis. That’s why platforms like yours are so vital and why I appreciate this opportunity so much.

With a 130-pound sidekick, it’s a lot of work.

WEGER ENTREPRENEUR, SPEAKER & AUTHOR OF ‘DON'T SNOOZE YOUR DREAMS: LESSONS FROM LIFE WITH NARCOLEPSY’

MICHELLE

“If there’s something dogs can smell, then there’s something that could be measured. What that something is— it’s their secret for now.”

ALLIÉ: Absolutely. So what’s the thing then? How can we change this? Is there a test that can be done? Or do people just need to be clued in to say, “Maybe we should test for it”? How does it get diagnosed?

MICHELLE: It gets diagnosed by an overnight sleep study followed by a daytime study. When I went, it was me and a bunch of older men there for sleep apnea tests. You get into the bed and go to sleep, and pretty quickly after I fell asleep, the techs woke me up again and added a whole bunch more wires and leads because it was very clear this wasn’t sleep apnea. They needed even more data. In the morning, everybody else got to go home except me. I had to stay for the daytime test where you get ﬁve opportunities to nap in a dark room. They count not only how many times you sleep, but also how many times you dream. With narcolepsy, you’re so sleep-deprived that we actually have early-onset REM—we start to dream in less than ﬁve minutes versus the normal 90. That’s a very clear diagnosis once that test is performed.

ALLIÉ: That’s wild to me. OK, so let’s go back to Quinn here for a minute. Enter Quinn, the Great Dane with a job description most of us can’t quite imagine. How does Quinn sense a sleep episode before you do? And what does she do that makes the difference between danger and safety for you?

MICHELLE: We don’t know what exactly she’s sensing. That’s something very exciting to me as well. She’s the second narcolepsy service dog I’ve had, and she learned from the ﬁrst one, Max. The fact that there is something they are reliably sensing is really exciting, because I hope that could lead to greater research and potentially even better treatment or a cure. If there’s something dogs can smell, then there’s something that could be measured. What that something is—it’s their secret for now.

ALLIÉ: Mind blown right now. So walk me through all of this—what happens? What does she do when she smells whatever she smells?

MICHELLE: She’ll start by nudging my elbow until I acknowledge her. I always carry medicine with me, and I’ll take one. As long as she sees it, she’ll then stay very close. Until the medicine starts to kick in, she’s watching me like a hawk. At that point, my heart beats very quickly from the medicine, which makes it nearly impossible to fall asleep.

ALLIÉ: Wow… So what is it like to have this gentle giant of yours, Quinn? It’s not like a little dog you put in a bag and carry around cutely in an airport. What is life like with Quinn?

MICHELLE: With a 130-pound sidekick, it’s a lot of work. It takes a lot of management, pre-planning, and thinking. Of course, you get a lot of comments, many of them not kind. But the alternative is that I wouldn’t necessarily be safe to go in public by myself. That would be such a major hit to independence that all of the work and hassle—when I look at the equation, it’s a no-brainer. I can’t imagine not having a service dog, because I want to be able to be part of society, contribute, and do all the things everyone else can. This makes that possible.

Thankfully, my parents raised a very determined person.

MICHELLE WEGER ENTREPRENEUR, SPEAKER & AUTHOR OF

‘DON'T SNOOZE YOUR DREAMS: LESSONS FROM LIFE WITH NARCOLEPSY’

REST ASSURED

Exclusive Interview with Michelle Weger https://awarenow.us/podcast/rest-assured

ALLIÉ: Absolutely. Beyond your own story, you’ve become an advocate for how schools and workplaces can better support people with invisible disabilities like yours. If you could give teachers or managers one quick ﬁx to put into practice tomorrow, what would it be?

MICHELLE: The one thing I suggest everyone does is not make assumptions about what could help someone, and instead ask them directly. Don’t say “Can I help you?” Say “What can I do to help you?” Then let them tell you.

The person with the invisible disability lives with it every day. They know what could be helpful. But when someone offers supports you don’t need, it’s awkward, because many of us are used to being rejected by so many people over so many years. You don’t want to say, “No, that won’t help me,” because the fact that someone is trying is such a beautiful thing. By simply saying, “What can we offer to help?” you give the same gesture while opening the ﬂoor for that individual to express their needs.

ALLIÉ: One more question for you today. If there’s one message you want people to carry with them about living with narcolepsy and about seeing possibility instead of limitation, what would it be?

MICHELLE: When I read the stats about narcolepsy—how it affects marriages, income, employment, health outcomes—it was awful. Very depressing. To my 21-year-old mind, when I was diagnosed and read it, it felt like a blueprint that said: “You have no chance. You probably shouldn’t bother.” Thankfully, my parents raised a very determined person. We moved a lot when I was a child and teenager—every two years. I was forced to restart again and again. As much as I hated that growing up, I think it was the beginning of my resiliency. When life I’d planned for was no longer available, I had to pivot.

What I always encourage people to do when they’re looking at a situation is ask: if you do nothing, what’s the most likely outcome? For me at diagnosis, I didn’t have a job yet. I was living in my parents’ house. So if I did nothing, worst-case and best-case was still living in my parents’ house with no job. If I tried and failed—same situation. Anything other than the very worst outcome of trying was better.

At that point, the math was clear: 99 out of 100 situations, I’d be better off by trying. I like laying out that logic when I’m making decisions. Trying is scary, but’s it’s only scary because I don’t want to fail. But if I didn’t try, well, I’d already failed. If you fail after trying, you’re no worse off. ∎

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Results freeze a single moment in time, but grit stretches across the long arc of life.

PAUL S. ROGERS

‘RELEASE THE GENIE’ EXCLUSIVE COLUMN BY PAUL S. ROGERS

BEYOND THE SCOREBOARD

WHY RESULTS DON’T ALWAYS SHOW GRIT

Release The Genie Fact:

The Genie once ran a marathon backwards to see what 2nd place looked like.

We live in a world that is obsessed with metrics, with outcomes taking center stage. Corporate slogans such as “what gets measured gets managed” have taken over. Results need to be visible such as scores, awards, promotions, or profits. However, beneath the surface of results, lies a deeper story, one that numbers cannot always capture. That story is grit. Grit is the perseverance and passion someone brings to their journey. While grit often plays a role in success, results alone don’t always reflect it. Sometimes, grit hides behind the quiet struggles, unseen sacrifices, and unfinished efforts that are no less courageous than the achievements we celebrate.

At ﬁrst glance, it would seem entirely logical to equate grit with results. After all, perseverance should lead to progress. But life is far more complex. Results depend on a host of factors, circumstances, opportunities, timings, and not mention an element of luck. Someone may work tirelessly for years and still fall short of their goal. Another person may achieve impressive results quickly, not because of deep grit but because of favorable conditions or a lucky break. This started me thinking; what is grit? And how is it made? I have a playful theory on this. You will recall hearing the following phrases or similar… “knock the corners off someone who is new”, “a chip off the old block, being part of the grind”, “working at the coal face,” or “don’t let the b@*$ards grind you down.” All of those sayings generate some tangible material waste from the process. That waste is real and is your grit. It is what you use as a source of friction to gain traction. Think of the difference in winter between a gritted and un gritted road. I know which one I prefer.

Like most people, I haven’t purposefully gone looking for grit or those types of “Character Building” experiences. I have found that life is very happy to provide all the tools and lessons needed. Failure and losing is just as part of our existence, as are success and winning. The secret is seeing the lessons these experiences provide.

Grit has also become lumped into the same camp as resilience. I think this is in error. Resilience does not create grit. Grit is the engine room below resilience and provides the traction that the process of resilience relies on to get back up. Grit is usually an internal, invisible process but occasionally, it can be spotted if you are lucky. It is often most visible in those who continue despite failure. Grit isn’t just physical it is also a mental and emotional thing. Think of Michael J Fox struck down with Parkinson’s at an early age. Since then he has raised awareness and monies for ﬁghting the disease. Showing his grit he joined Coldplay on their tour in 2024 in front of thousands of people to play guitar on his Back to The Future hit Johnny B Goode.

Maybe we have been asking the wrong questions. Perhaps, instead of asking “What did you achieve?” we should ask, “What did you overcome? What did you learn?” Such questions acknowledge the unseen dimension of grit that results cannot capture. To equate grit with outcomes alone is to miss the essence of what grit is, namely a sustained commitment despite hardship.

AwareNow Podcast

BEYOND THE SCOREBOARD

Written and Narrated by Paul S. Rogers https://awarenow.us/podcast/beyond-the-scoreboard

Sometimes the grittiest decision is to let go, to pivot, or to redeﬁne success altogether. Our culture tends to celebrate perseverance when it leads to triumph, but what about instead when it leads to wisdom? Walking away from a pursuit that no longer aligns with your values or well-being can require immense courage. The results of such a choice may look like “failure” to outsiders, but internally it represents the highest form of grit: the willingness to honor one’s limits and redirect energy toward a healthier path.

Grit is not a one-time deal; it is a pattern of being. Results freeze a single moment in time, but grit stretches across the long arc of life. Someone may have no visible achievements today, yet the persistence they demonstrate could be laying the groundwork for future growth. Their grit is real, even if the results have not materialized…yet. To dismiss their effort because of a temporary lack of outcomes is to overlook the slow, steady work of transformation that deﬁnes resilience.

In the end, results are important, but they are not the whole picture. They can reﬂect grit, but they can also obscure it. True grit resides in the effort, the endurance, and the refusal to quit in the face of hardship. To recognize grit, we must look beyond the scoreboard and into the lived experience of those who persist. Only then do we see the deeper story that numbers cannot measure, but that speaks profoundly to the strength of the human will. ∎

PAUL S. ROGERS

Transformation Expert, Awareness Hellraiser & Public Speaker www.awarenowmedia.com/paul-rogers

PAUL S. ROGERS is a keynote public speaking coach, transformation expert, awareness hellraiser, life coach, Trauma TBI, CPTSD mentor, train crash and cancer survivor, public speaking coach, Podcast host “Release the Genie” & best-selling author. His journey has taken him from corporate leader to kitesurfer to teacher on a ﬁrst nations reserve to today. Paul’s goal is to inspire others to ﬁnd their true purpose and passion.

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RYAN GUZMAN

ACTOR, MODEL & LATINO COMMUNITY ADVOCATE

Photo Credit: Freya Ray

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH RYAN GUZMAN

THE POWER OF CONNECTION

RYAN GUZMAN ON HERITAGE, HOLLYWOOD AND GREATNESS

Connection runs like a thread through Ryan Guzman’s story—whether navigating his Mexican American heritage, building community on and off set, or stepping into the role of Eddie Diaz on ABC’s drama series 9-1-1 with empathy and authenticity. In our conversation, my questions opened the door to re ﬂections on identity, resilience, and legacy, and his responses revealed a man shaped as much by family and culture as by fame. What emerged was not just an interview, but an invitation to see greatness not in spotlight or status, but in the connections we hold and the love we share.

ALLIÉ: Let's ﬂip back to your beginning—for you growing up in Texas and then in Sacramento. What role did your heritage play in shaping your sense of self, and how does it continue to guide you in Hollywood?

RYAN: Oh man, that is a very in-depth question. It entails so much. Yeah. So, I mean, I was born on an Air Force

RYAN GUZMAN ACTOR, MODEL & LATINO COMMUNITY ADVOCATE

Photo Credit: Freya Ray

“It’s very hard ﬁguring out what your identity is—you’re either too white to be Mexican, too Mexican to be white.”

RYAN: (continued) So, I don’t know too much about Texas, but I do know that’s my origin. Sacramento was home for me, though, for the longest time.

And growing up Mexican American, my cultures coincided in a very interesting way. I think a lot of people that are biracial actually can connect to this. It’s very hard ﬁguring out what your identity is. You know, you’re either too white to be Mexican, too Mexican to be white type deal. Especially since I was raised in a family that’s ﬁrst generation in America. So they wanted to assimilate. A lot of my family members would push the narrative that we need to speak English and no Spanish. So a lot of us didn’t learn Spanish. And knowing that in the Chicano culture and the Mexican culture—if you don’t speak Spanish, it’s almost like you’re less Mexican too, which I’m not for, because I feel the culture is the culture.

But I found it very tough navigating for the longest time. I don’t know if I really had a true sense of identity until later in my later years. And this is more recent than not. But one thing I always held true was that I was very, very, very proud to be Mexican American. There’s such a richness in our culture, and it does stem from family—that family dynamic, that big family that we are, like I was raised in. I mean, my cousins were my brothers and sisters as well.

I hold that dear to me because the gatherings that we had—whether it would be a wedding or quinceañera or whatever type of event—I felt just an abundance of love. And I felt like you felt the love through the food, you felt the love through the music, you felt the love through just intermingling and connecting truly. So that’s what I really take with me on my day-to-day basis. And I’ve kind of created that out in LA. My family, whether they’re blood or not—I keep an open-door policy. It’s just like, you know, this is part of my culture. Let me cook for you, let me invite you over. At any point in time, please come over. Let’s enjoy each other. That’s what I’ve resonated with and kept throughout the entirety of my career and adulthood.

ALLIÉ: Yeah. And I love that. It just goes back to family, that connection. And I hear you—being mixed, right? For me it was: wasn’t Black enough, wasn’t white enough. Like, I’m just kind of me. But no less.

RYAN: Right, yes, absolutely. I mean, I feel like there shouldn’t be so much judgment, and I feel like a lot of it is put on by our own cultures, to be honest, which is sad to see. But at the same time, I think there is a new element for biracial individuals to step into and claim as their own—that we are signiﬁcantly part of both.

And I love representing that. I love being a kind of hodgepodge of humanity and allowing that to be an invite for those that are maybe having a tough time ﬁguring out who they are—to just accept themselves for everything. Not what they’re not, but everything they are.

ALLIÉ: I love that so much. So let’s talk more about you and who you are. Because you’ve been in the Octagon, you’ve been on the mound, and now on the screen. Each path, I would imagine, required grit in very different forms. So, Ryan, question now is: how did those earlier chapters of you—as an athlete, as a ﬁghter—prepare you for the resilience that’s demanded in acting? I’d love to hear a couple of stories, a couple of examples.

RYAN GUZMAN ACTOR, MODEL & LATINO COMMUNITY ADVOCATE

Photo Credit: Freya Ray

“Our overall goal is not just to win a game, but to create the most authentic thing we can, or create the most provocative thing we can, to really capture the audience’s attention.”

RYAN: Oh man, thank you for that question. Baseball was my life for the longest time—as well as soccer was—but baseball really hit because I was a left-hand pitcher, and that just happens to be where. And I had been doing really, really good. I was recently reminded by my father of how good I had done coming out of high school.

What it gave me was, yeah, a sense of grit, and also a sense of being a teammate—knowing that there’s a goal beyond the individual. Working as such allowed me to really want that in my day-to-day life. And being an actor, that’s not really present—but when you’re on set, it is. So you’re with the crew and you’re with the cast, and now you become the team again. Our overall goal is not just to win a game, but to create the most authentic thing we can, or create the most provocative thing we can, to really capture the audience’s attention. And I love that about baseball.

And also, since I was a pitcher, it was: you’re out there on your own. You’re literally on that island. Everything is dictated by what you throw or what you don’t throw. It’s really up to you how the game goes. You’re giving the opportunity now to the batter to hit it to all your inﬁelders, outﬁelders, and hopefully we’ve all done our job. But the amount of pressure with that spotlight on me, I think also trained me to be in front of the camera.

Now, when it comes to ﬁghting in MMA—that is something that is… I mean, I’ve taken Bruce Lee’s words with me throughout the entirety of my life. His teachings, his philosophy. I’ve always found ﬁghting to be more philosophical than it is actually a violent practice.

It is understanding oneself in the most extreme conditions and ﬁnding calm within chaotic moments. And that to me has helped me throughout my acting, and as well as these types of interactions where it can be very overwhelming to share your thoughts and your feelings with a person, let alone hundreds of thousands of people that might see you.

There is a level of chaos that goes on in your own head and heart. You have to calm that down, understand it, and sit with it. And I learned that through ﬁghting.

ALLIÉ: So many lessons in so many different ways. Let’s talk about roles—one speciﬁcally. Your role as Eddie Diaz resonated so deeply with so many, especially with Latino audiences who see themselves represented on screen. Question for you here: what has playing Eddie taught you, not just as an actor, but as a father, a son, as a man?

RYAN GUZMAN ACTOR, MODEL & LATINO COMMUNITY ADVOCATE

Photo Credit: Freya Ray

“Being a father on screen months prior to being an actual father was kind of the ultimate training.”

RYAN: I’ve been on a parallel with Eddie, I mean, for eight seasons straight. It’s been so strange. I’ve had so many moments with Eddie that I later on have as Ryan, and I don’t know how that works. I don’t know if it’s just divine intervention or because all of this kind of felt like some kind of gift from God. Even receiving the call and saying, “Hey, you got a straight offer for 9-1-1,” which never happens in our industry. So it’s always been kind of a blessing.

Being a father on screen months prior to being an actual father was kind of the ultimate training. It was an opportunity to really see and really dive into empathetically what it could feel like to be a father and the responsibilities that come with it.

I had this moment—and I can still remember it to this day—where I’m walking Christopher, or Eddie’s walking Christopher, to school. And I just had such a grandiose feeling of, like, one day this is going to be me with my own son. And it just felt so warm. All the worries and fear of not knowing even how to be a father—because I don’t know how to take care of myself yet, really, I feel. Like, what is life? Who am I? All that kind of went away.

And it was just like—again, God kind of came, grabbed my shoulder, and said, “You got this. This is going to be good for you.” And that’s what I felt. So in so many ways, Eddie has shown me, or given me opportunities to really try new things out and understand more things about myself. Even being, you know, now a single father—it’s just like, how does that work prior to knowing?

I’ve had moments, you know, with Eddie dating and trying to ﬁgure out where he’s trying to go with his life. I’ve had moments where it’s just like, this came straight from set. I remember speciﬁcally right after my divorce, I wanted to take time for myself to really understand. And I was in a very hurt place, but I had women trying to talk to me. And at that moment, I literally said a line from 9-1-1. And I didn’t mean to!

And it was just like, “Hey, you know, right now I don’t think I’m for you. I need to tap into me right now. Thank you, I’m very ﬂattered.” But I stepped back and I was like, did that really just happen? Wait a second. This is so odd—art imitating life and vice versa. So yes, Eddie has been such a great conduit to life for me. And I’ve been able to just maneuver life a little bit easier with knowing that I have Eddie at my beck and call every season.

ALLIÉ: Amazing. Yes. Life and art and art and life and what? So, I know for me, there have been moments where the work I’m doing suddenly feels bigger than me. Have you had a moment like that in your career, when you realized that it wasn’t just about you anymore?

RYAN: I think this role is that. I think there’s something much greater at play. And that actually takes—well, I’ll be the ﬁrst to admit it. When I was a young actor, I feel like I had an ego, where I put myself in a place of importance towards the role, as if it was all me. I’ve come with age to realize that it’s so much grander than that, so much bigger than that.

What this role, speciﬁcally Eddie, has offered—to my family, my kids, myself, to those that watch the show that have come up to me and told me their feelings and their thoughts about the character—it’s so much greater than I could have imagined.

RYAN GUZMAN ACTOR, MODEL & LATINO COMMUNITY ADVOCATE

Photo Credit: Freya Ray

THE POWER OF CONNECTION

Exclusive Interview with Ryan Guzman https://awarenow.us/podcast/the-power-of-connection

“Inclusivity to me is everything.”

RYAN: (continued) And again, I think it really comes back down to connectivity. That’s what I’m really inspired about. I really think that in this day and age, there’s so much polarization. And I’m not against polarizing ideas, because they can stimulate great conversation. But I think it’s also putting everybody in certain boxes and not allowing individuals to really have healthy conversations.

Inclusivity to me is everything. But we can’t get to inclusivity until we really empathize for each other and allow each other to see we’re all just human beings trying to ﬁgure it out. And I think that’s what Eddie is. Eddie has come from a depressive state. Now he’s in a moment of self-love. And I love seeing the dichotomy of his arc and really allowing others to follow that and join him. It’s almost encouraging in a way.

So I’m, you know, I’m like the audience itself. I’m like, “OK, Eddie, here we go.”

ALLIÉ: I love that—the actor and the audience at the same time. To be able to live vicariously through this character while living your own truths at the same time. So one last thing for you, my friend. When I think about greatness, I don’t see it as fame or spotlight. It’s more about the legacy that we leave behind. So for you, Ryan, what does greatness look like to you?

RYAN: I think greatness is connected to community. I think that the interconnectivity between individuals to make the community a whole community—you know, because I feel like it doesn’t take too much. It doesn’t take 100,000 people. I think if we could just have communities interconnecting in a very healthy and loving connection, then that instills greatness.

But I think the idea of greatness being tied to one individual—other than, you know, God—but one individual human being, I think that needs to be dispelled. Greatness should come from all. And I don’t think we get there without, again, empathizing for each other and creating a deeper sense of connection and a non-judgmental viewpoint on each other.

So greatness, to me, is tied to openness and love. ∎

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Photo Courtesy: Sima Familant

EDGES OF RESILIENCE

ART, MS, AND FINDING MEANING IN THE SPACES BETWEEN

Art often lives at the edge—between what’s seen and unseen, past and present, concept and emotion. For Sima and me, that edge is also personal. We both share a love of art and the reality of living with multiple sclerosis. MS doesn’t deﬁne us, but it does sharpen our perspective—on patience, on resilience, and on the value of spaces that hold more than meets the eye. This is Sima’s story: where it began, how it shifted, and how she continues to curate both collections and meaning at the edge of art and life.

ALLIÉ: Let’s start out this way, Sima. What’s your earliest memory—the earliest moment that you remember realizing art wasn’t just something to look at, not just something to view, but something to experience, something to live with? Do you remember what that moment was?

SIMA: Well, I talk often about this because I sort of riffed off of it when I was in 4th grade. We had this thing called Art

Photo Courtesy: Sima Familant

“I’m not interested in how to create it. I want to know why somebody else did.”

SIMA: (continued) The ﬁrst one I remember was Art in a Suitcase and she was talking to us about Van Gogh. I remember thinking, This is the coolest thing—I love learning. Later, I used that title, Art in a Suitcase, when I ﬁrst started my company and was traveling to different cities. I wrote a column called Art in a Suitcase, where I’d share what I saw on my trips. I’ve always gone back to that moment. I thought it was amazing to learn about these artists— their lives and what they created.

Also, my parents were very good about taking us to Washington, DC. We lived in southern Virginia, and DC was the closest big city. They’d take us to the Smithsonian. They didn’t know anything about art—they weren’t art connoisseurs—but they still brought us.

I remember one painting in the National Gallery. I don’t even know what it was, but it was of a woman. I thought, “I really like this painting, but I don’t know why. And I don’t know why it’s here. But it must be important because it’s in this huge museum.” That moment made me want to understand why we live with art, why certain pieces resonate, and why they’re chosen to become part of our lives.

ALLIÉ: I love how you just said ‘why’. Not “What is this piece of art?” but, “Why is this piece of art?”

SIMA: It’s always been about the why for me. People often ask, “Why don’t you make art? You could do this.” But that’s not my jam. I’m not interested in how to create. I want to know why somebody else did. Why they chose certain colors, why they made those decisions.

Even the piece behind me—why did the artist decide to throw three balls in the air and see what happens? For me, it’s always about why and how—how can someone take an image from their head and bring it onto paper?

ALLIÉ: And with that ‘why’, you suddenly get this level of depth. It’s not just what you’re seeing—it’s the intention behind it. That weight is really powerful.

SIMA: Yes. That’s been the fun part for me. It’s kept my curiosity alive and helped me choose artists who really capture the pulse of their time. That’s why their work gets pulled out of the pack and ends up in museums.

When I work with clients, I try to help them create homes ﬁlled with art, books, and things that have meaning—spaces they love being in. My husband and I always say, “I never want to leave home. I love what I have here.” That’s what I want for my clients too—to live with things that make them feel at home, make them think, or make them happy.

ALLIÉ: That’s awesome. And in your work, curating for collectors and exhibitions, there’s so much depth. Let’s switch gears and talk about something else we share in common: multiple sclerosis. When MS entered your story, how did it change your relationship with art—or even with yourself?

SIMA: When I studied at Christie’s in London, one of the biggest lessons was that you need to see art—lots of art. To feel it. To notice how it affects you. That’s always stayed with me.

SIMA FAMILANT PRIVATE CURATOR & ART ADVISOR

Photo Courtesy: Sima Familant

“It reﬂects the chaos of MS, but also the human attempt to ﬁnd some sense of control or logic within it.”

SIMA: (continued) But when I was diagnosed with MS, my big fear was, “Oh my God, I’ll never be able to travel again. I’ll be stuck in my house, in a chair.” That thought made me cry. I love the chase—the ﬁnding, the ﬁguring out. Art gave me puzzles to solve, and I didn’t want to lose that.

I had just come back from a big trip to Europe, and that’s when I started noticing weird symptoms. By the time I got home, I had to see doctors. My biggest fear was, Was that my last trip? Art had always expanded my world. The diagnosis suddenly made it feel like my world was getting smaller. That was my biggest hurdle—ﬁguring out how to overcome that.

ALLIÉ: Has there ever been a piece of art where you saw your diagnosis reﬂected back at you? Something that seemed to hold MS within it?

SIMA: Yes. The piece behind me, by John Baldessari, is about chance. He threw three balls in the air, and if they landed in a line, his wife photographed them. It’s about chaos, chance, and trying to create order. MS is like that—you don’t know why things happen. Even doctors can’t always explain it. You can have a perfect MRI and still have symptoms, or the opposite. You keep asking “Why?” and the answer is often, “We don’t know.”

That’s why this piece resonates with me. It reﬂects the chaos of MS, but also the human attempt to ﬁnd some sense of control or logic within it.

ALLIÉ: What a beautiful metaphor for MS—ﬁnding controlled understanding within chaos and chance.

SIMA: Exactly.

ALLIÉ: Let’s talk about curation. It’s more than building collections—it’s about balancing expression and connection. How has MS shaped the way you build relationships with artists, collectors, and yourself?

SIMA: Because of my fear of things getting small, I’ve made sure that doesn’t happen. I’ve traveled to India, Russia, across Europe, and throughout the U.S. I’ve built connections across ages, cultures, and nationalities.

When I curate, I look for connections between artworks you wouldn’t expect. Maybe it’s color, form, or concept—but when they’re installed perfectly, they sing. And when an exhibition sings together, it’s magic. I don’t have children, so in many ways, these artworks are my kids. I love watching how they “talk” to each other when displayed together.

ALLIÉ: It’s almost like your curating invites people to be curious—not just, “Here’s what you like,” but, “Let’s get curious about what else might resonate.”

Photo Courtesy: Sima Familant

EDGES OF RESILIENCE

Exclusive interview with Sima Familant https://awarenow.us/podcast/edges-of-resilience

“Life is short—we need to make sure it’s what we want it to be.”

SIMA: Yes, exactly.

ALLIÉ: One last question. Today, when you think about who you are—beyond the titles, the career, the diagnosis— how do you deﬁne yourself? And what edge are you most excited to step into next?

SIMA: Big question! My birthday is this Sunday, and birthdays always feel like a new chapter. I’m turning 53. My MS is under control. I feel lucky, I feel stable, and yes, very middle-aged.

Being in the middle is funny—I’m a middle child, I’ve always been in “threes,” and now I’m in midlife. That place makes me reﬂect a lot: where am I in life, in my career, in my relationships, with aging parents and friends facing illness?

I’ve realized that what matters most is authenticity, connection, and joy. Life is short—we need to make sure it’s what we want it to be. For me, art feeds my soul. that’s how I deﬁne myself—someone who seeks and creates meaning, joy, and connection. ∎

Every one is a part of everyone.

Miles to go before we sleep…

Don’t

JENNY OLSON

Photo Courtesy: Jenny Olson

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH JENNY OLSON

RIDICULOUSLY BRAVE

LOVE, LOSS, AND THE COURAGE TO KEEP GOING

When you sit down with Jenny Olson, you don’t just hear a story—you feel it. A mother who’s walked through the unthinkable, she’s turned heartbreak into hope through her words, her book, and her voice on countless stages. Today, we speak not just about pediatric cancer, but about courage, love, and the ﬁerce strength that comes only from being a mom.

ALLIÉ: Jenny, when you ﬁrst heard the words that no mother ever wants to hear—that your little boy had cancer— what was the very ﬁrst thought that crossed your mind?

JENNY: You know, the very ﬁrst thought that crossed my mind was that my family has not had a good history with cancer. And my immediate thought was: this is a death sentence, because no one in my family who had been diagnosed had ever survived.

JENNY

Photo Courtesy: Jenny Olson

“We’re in this for the long haul. It’s going to be brutal, it’s going to be hard, but we’re not going to give up.”

ALLIÉ: So much of motherhood—mom to mom—we can feel this in our bones. It’s all about protecting our children from pain. And here you were, facing something you couldn’t ﬁx with a kiss on the forehead. How did you ﬁnd your way through that helplessness? And what did it teach you about yourself?

JENNY: Oh, that’s such a great question. So, you know, we just actually had the anniversary of his diagnosis back on August 17th. And it’s really a strange space to be in now, because I remember when I got the call, I remembered exactly where I was. I remember my husband looking toward me across the room and knowing something was wrong.

In that space, I just remember thinking to myself, “I don’t think I can do this,” because just two years prior we had spent two months in the NICU with our son. And so I thought, I can’t do this again. I’m not made for this.

And then it just kind of shifted. It brought out what I always knew was inside but had never come to the surface before. I found my voice. I stopped being afraid. And I realized I had the opportunity to be an advocate and to really ﬁght for my son. Because with pediatric cancer, it’s not just one patient. You have three patients—mom, dad, and the child.

ALLIÉ: No, absolutely. Let’s talk about your book—Ridiculously Brave. It’s become a beacon for families walking through the same storm you went through. But before it was a book, it was your lived reality. Can you share a moment from that journey that still, to this day, sits with you? A memory that reshaped the way you saw life and motherhood?

JENNY: You know, I’ll never forget Labor Day weekend. Of course, our plan was to be on vacation, but that didn’t happen. We were sitting in the hospital waiting—frustrated, wanting to go home—but what even was home anymore?

My son had just had a biopsy of his liver. There was an incision, and—this will be shocking—but his incision literally burst open while we were there. His intestine started to come out. That was the moment I knew we were walking through something unpredictable. It wasn’t just cancer or chemo—it was all the things.

I remember running as fast as I could. The resident froze. The nurse stepped up. And I thought: We’re in this for the long haul. It’s going to be brutal, it’s going to be hard, but we’re not going to give up.

And, oddly, everything aligned that day. The perfect surgeon was unexpectedly on call. Moments like that change your perspective—you realize you have to take control, even in chaos.

ALLIÉ: Yeah, I hear you. I had a similar situation with my son, who had a tracheotomy at three months old. Suddenly he was breathing out of a tube through his neck. I remember thinking, “Oh, we’ll only be in the hospital every now and then.” But no—it was constant.

There was a time he coughed out his trach. A nurse said she hadn’t done it before and looked around for help. I moved them out of the way and said, “Watch. I’ll show you.” I did what needed to be done. And then I stepped out and cried for so long.

JENNY OLSON

Photo Courtesy: Jenny Olson

“Six weeks later, when life was supposed to go back to ‘normal’, it hit me hard. Nothing would ever be normal again.”

ALLIÉ: (continued) Did you have similar experiences—where you had to be strong in the moment, but then broke down afterward? Were you able to give yourself that grace?

JENNY: Oh, yes. I’ll never forget when he had a port put in. The rule is if you attempt to access that port and you’re unsuccessful, you cannot use that needle again. After his liver resection, I saw a nurse attempt not once, not twice, but three times. I spun around and said, “Step away. Step away now and get your manager.”

He was still under sedation, but clearly uncomfortable. I called in the head of port training and said, “I don’t know what just happened, but it will never happen again.”

Afterward, I sobbed to my husband. We didn’t need another complication on top of cancer and liver surgery. There are moments you take that adrenaline and use it—but then the human side comes out, and you cry. And then you pick yourself back up.

ALLIÉ: Yes, that’s just it. Sometimes the bravest thing is simply waking up the next morning and doing it all again.

Question for you now, Jenny: in your hardest days, what did courage actually look like for you? Not the big gestures— the quiet, everyday ones.

JENNY: Honestly, it became more evident after treatment was done, when he was declared in remission. I was warned about PTSD, but I thought I’d be ﬁne. Six weeks later, when life was supposed to go back to “normal,” it hit me hard. Nothing would ever be normal again.

There were days I begged my husband to stay home because I was so afraid. A cough or sneeze sent me spiraling. But I made myself get up every day. Sometimes that was all I could do. I sought counseling. I let myself feel what I felt —but I never stopped getting up.

ALLIÉ: I love that you bring up PTSD—it’s so overlooked. The bigger issue is our child and their needs, so we forget our own.

Now that your story is one you’ve shared on stages and in pages, how do you balance being an encourager for others while still honoring the tender parts of your heart that are still healing?

JENNY: For me, healing has come through telling our story. Even 15 years later, when I speak, the tears come—it all feels real again. But it’s therapeutic.

Little things still trigger me. For example, the beeping of cash registers at Target reminded me of hospital pumps. My husband joked that maybe that was a good thing—less money spent at Target. Humor helps.

Podcast

RIDICULOUSLY BRAVE

Exclusive Interview with Jenny Olson https://awarenow.us/podcast/ridiculously-brave

JENNY: (continued) But I know how devastating this journey is, how scary it is. And I know that after remission, support often disappears. That’s why I keep sharing: so families know they’re not alone. Because they aren’t.

ALLIÉ: Absolutely. And that no one ever ﬁghts alone—or has to.

One more thing, my friend: what message do you most hope another mom, sitting in that doctor’s ofﬁce hearing the unthinkable, would take away from you right now?

JENNY: Don’t go it alone. Reach out. Relationships change—some people can’t handle it. But ﬁnd someone, anyone, to connect with. Even just one other mom who understands. It makes all the difference. ∎

Learn more about Jenny and her story here: www.jennylinnolson.com Find & follow her on Instagram: @jennylinnolson

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YRMIS BARROETA ENTREPRENEUR, CREATIVE EXECUTIVE & SPEAKER

Photo Courtesy: Yrmis Barroeta

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH YRMIS BARROETA

SPEAKING IN SHADES THE PALETTE

OF COMMUNICATION AND THE WHOLENESS OF SELF

Words are more than sounds strung together—they’re colors painted across the canvas of our conversations. For Yrmis Barroeta, language is both a palette and a mirror, revealing not just how we communicate, but who we are becoming. In this dialogue, we explore the artistry of expression, the shades of selfhood, and the power of speaking with impact.

ALLIÉ: Let’s go back to the beginning of you and me. You and I ﬁrst met in New York at the Creativity Conference. We were both featured speakers, and now here we are, about to do some speaking about speaking. So, ﬁrst question for you: what is it about speaking itself—the act of sharing voice in a room—that speaks to you the most?

YRMIS: This is a very interesting question. Speaking is my favorite delivery system because when you’re speaking, you’re giving. It’s an act of giving. It can be about you, it can be about selling, but ultimately it has to be about putting your trajectory at the service of others. The biggest reward is when one person comes to you and says, “Wow, I really needed to hear that.” When you see that it clicked inside them, you know you’ve made a positive impact. If I’ve

YRMIS BARROETA ENTREPRENEUR, CREATIVE EXECUTIVE & SPEAKER

Photo Courtesy: Yrmis Barroeta

“My whole color box was reduced to the primary wheel.”

ALLIÉ: I love that—and I love how you talk about speaking as an act of service, as a gift that you’re giving. Before we dive into the deep end of words and colors, I’d love for readers who may not know you yet to hear who you are, in your own voice. And I’m not talking about the résumé version, but the human one. Who is Yrmis?

YRMIS: I’m a Venezuelan who came to the U.S. young enough that now I’ve lived here longer than I lived there. So, I feel I’m not from there, not from here, but a mix of both. I’m a mom. I’m a problem-solver. Everything I do comes from the angle of, “If there’s a problem, how do we solve it?” I’m an eternal optimist, almost to a fault, and a lifelong learner. I believe we can learn anything we want. I care less about status and more about how I feel the next morning. That’s what has driven my life and my decisions.

ALLIÉ: I love everything you just shared. You once told me something that stopped me in my tracks. You said that when you speak English, you can only use primary colors, but in Spanish you have access to all these tones, hues, and secondary and tertiary shades. Can you take us deeper into that metaphor? What does it feel like inside you to speak in shades—or to be limited to primary colors?

YRMIS: For me, communication is everything. If you ask my eight-year-old what Mommy repeats all the time, it’s “communicate, communicate, communicate.” Communication is the foundation for absolutely everything in life because everything in life comes down to people, and people come with relationships—and relationships are about communication.

I lived my ﬁrst 24 years in Venezuela. I loved creativity, I loved painting, and my most important school supply was always the box of colors. I always wanted the one with hundreds of shades. Each came with a name, and I wanted them all.

When we communicate, it’s the same. The undertones—the irony, the warmth, the mischief—they change everything in communication. But when I learned English, red was just red, blue was just blue, green was just green, regardless of the shade. My whole color box was reduced to the primary wheel.

When I came to the U.S., I realized how limited I felt. Later, in fashion school, I discovered that English also has all these shades. I just didn’t know the names. I didn’t know what “teal” was, or “slate blue.” I still don’t know them very well. That’s how I feel when I speak—I have to put so much thought into what I’m going to say.

This becomes especially important when you have to deliver a hard truth. When you’re saying something good, everyone’s ready to receive it, but when you need to communicate something difﬁcult—in leadership, as a teacher, or as an employer—you have to be very careful. That’s where my “primary colors” limitation shows up most.

ALLIÉ: I hear you. Especially in leadership, nuance is everything. When you describe it, it feels like a canvas, where your words are brushstrokes. What have you discovered about the art of communication—about how it can move people—when you paint with your words?

YRMIS BARROETA ENTREPRENEUR, CREATIVE EXECUTIVE & SPEAKER

Photo Courtesy: Yrmis Barroeta

“When words move you, you don’t just hear them—you feel them.”

YRMIS: When you’re a poet, like you are, you go beyond the ears and reach the heart. When words move you, you don’t just hear them—you feel them. Goosebumps, chills—that’s the weight of words. Like colors, words have values, from light to dark. Communication carries emotional weight. Choosing the right words creates connection. It’s the difference between hearing and truly listening. Communication is a canvas, and words are our brushstrokes.

ALLIÉ: You’ve had multiple career tracks—health and wellness, fashion, food, education. From the outside, it looks like you’ve reinvented yourself each time. But you’ve shared with me that it’s not reinvention so much as expansion. Would you speak to that?

YRMIS: Yes. Most of us are taught to follow a linear career path—you’re an engineer, a doctor, a designer, and that’s it for life. But I’ve never approached my life that way. I’ve followed problems I care about, and when I put my head into solving them, I become passionate. Because I’m a lifelong learner, I’m not afraid to learn what I need to learn. And I surround myself with people who know more than I do.

People often tell me, “You’re so good at reinventing yourself.” But that concept overwhelms me. Reinventing implies creating a new version of yourself. To me, it’s not reinvention—it’s expansion. It’s always been me, bringing new lenses from one industry into another. Like a bee going from ﬂower to ﬂower. The bee doesn’t reinvent itself. It crosspollinates. That’s how I see myself.

ALLIÉ: So, you’re industry-agnostic. It’s not about the ﬁeld—it’s about the problem. Almost like you’re a seeker of problems.

YRMIS: Totally. Right now, I see fear around technological change. The headlines scream that AI will take our jobs, that we’ll all be jobless. But I see it differently. We need to adapt, innovate, and create new opportunities. It’s a challenge, not a catastrophe. We’re more than ever in a moment where we must create our next version. It’s our job to embrace change and innovate around it.

ALLIÉ: Going back to your bee metaphor—can I just call you Queen Bee from now on?

YRMIS: (laughs) I grew up in the wild, always thought of myself as the black sheep. But now, with your Queen Bee title, I see the beauty in it. Bees are tiny, yet they’re the foundation of everything. We need to protect them. I might even use this metaphor in a keynote.

ALLIÉ: I love it. So, let’s close this way: if someone is hearing all of this and feels muted—stuck speaking in primary shades when they long for the full spectrum—what would you tell them? What’s the ﬁrst stroke they can take toward fuller expression?

YRMIS BARROETA ENTREPRENEUR, CREATIVE EXECUTIVE & SPEAKER

Photo Courtesy: Yrmis Barroeta

Exclusive Interview with Yrmis Barroeta https://awarenow.us/podcast/speaking-in-shades

YRMIS: They need to tap into their three-year-old self. When you see a three-year-old struggling with words, you don’t doubt they have it all inside them. They just need patience, safe space, and encouragement. I’ve been blessed with people in my life who loved me enough to gently correct me, to help me practice. That’s what we all need: love, safe space, practice. We already have the full toolkit inside us—we just need to learn how to use it.

ALLIÉ: That’s beautiful. My inner three-year-old thanks your inner three-year-old. You’ve reminded me that sometimes we don’t need to force understanding—we just need to be. We’re human beings, not just human doings. Sometimes just allowing space is enough.

YRMIS: Exactly. We’re born with everything we need. ∎

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Photo Credit: Amy Schwartz

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH GREYISHERE

THE RISK FACTOR

REDEFINING VULNERABILITY IN MUSIC AND MENTAL HEALTH

From the shadows of his bedroom studio in Milwaukee to the vibrant music scene of Chicago, GREYISHERE has been building more than just a sound—he’s been building a movement. With original production, fearless vulnerability, and a genreblurring approach, GREYISHERE is pushing the boundaries as a music artist. At the heart of it all is his unshakable message: music is a lifeline for mental health and a rallying cry for those navigating the storm.

ALLIÉ: For those who are just meeting you for the very ﬁrst time, if you had to introduce yourself not as an artist but as the person behind the music—who are you, besides GREYISHERE?

GREYISHERE: Man, I don’t know—I’m just me. It’s kind of hard to explain. I feel like I’m very all over the place sometimes. Sometimes I still feel like I’m 10 years old—into one thing one week and another the next. That’s why I try to show people who I am instead of just telling them. Whether it’s through music, graphic design, video editing, or how I present myself in general—I want my work to do the talking. If I just walk up to someone and say, “Hey, this is me, A,

Photo Credit: Elizabeth Rosales

“That’s why I love conversation—it leads into a collage of ideas and perspectives. You learn about someone before they even tell you who they are.”

ALLIÉ: I like that your work speaks for you, and that to understand you is to experience you through your art.

GREYISHERE: And it’s not an ego thing—I’m not trying to be “Mr. Different.” It’s just hard to know where to start when someone asks who I am. That’s why I love conversation—it leads into a collage of ideas and perspectives. You learn about someone before they even tell you who they are.

ALLIÉ: That’s a great answer, my friend. Let’s move to the next one. You started making music in your bedroom closet back in Milwaukee, long before anybody knew your name. When you think back to those early days, what was driving you to create then—and how is that different from what fuels your ﬁre now?

GREYISHERE: As a 14 or 15-year-old kid, I was rebelling against everything—angry, mischievous, just being a kid. I was going through a lot mentally, which is why bands like Twenty One Pilots meant so much to me. Their music made me feel less alone, and I wanted to do that for others.

When I ﬁrst started, it was an outlet. I’d literally put pen to paper, and a lot of what I wrote was like poetry—just spilling thoughts. Looking back, I realize how vulnerable it was. Music became my way of working through things I didn’t feel I could talk about.

As I grew older, it became more of a community thing. I made an Instagram, started sharing, and friends from high school began listening. Suddenly it wasn’t just me being sad—it was me being sad with other people. I started making music that reﬂected what we were all going through, but in a way that was fun or cool to listen to.

Now, it’s a mix of both—still deeply personal but also fun. I push myself more, experiment more, and look at it with some business sense. I love marketing—ﬁguring out how to get my music out there—but without losing the authenticity. The message always comes ﬁrst.

ALLIÉ: Listening to your music, it doesn’t just sound raw—it feels raw. You’ve also been clear about using your voice to push mental health awareness. When you sit down to create, how much of it is therapy for you, and how much is advocacy for others?

GREYISHERE: It’s both. My last full-length albums, Dragon Scale Tea and Brother Tide, are very personal to me. A lot of times when I was making those, I’d talk about things that no one else would get except me—or maybe the person it was about.

For me, making music has always been about having indirect conversations when I couldn’t say things directly. That’s how it started—as my way to process and communicate.

Photo Credit: Amy Schwartz

GREYISHERE: (continued) Even though the songs are about me, the message has always been that nobody is truly alone in what they’re going through. There are similarities, overlaps, and connections—even if someone can’t fully understand your exact situation, they can relate and support you.

I’ve struggled with imposter syndrome, and I even have a song on my upcoming album about that—about struggling to accept the good parts of myself and slowing down enough to recognize that I’m okay. I also have friends who don’t want to talk openly about their struggles, and music becomes that indirect way of starting the conversation. They can hear a song and think, I get this. I feel this. And that’s powerful.

No paycheck, no Grammy, no external recognition could replace the moments I’ve had with people who’ve reached out—whether through a message, or after a show—telling me how much something I wrote meant to them. Those moments make everything worth it.

ALLIÉ: That’s beautiful. Giving authentically of yourself is such a gift—not only to yourself but to others as well.

I want to talk about a speciﬁc song—one of my favorites: Risk. That track really opened doors for you and connected you with the Shadow Crew community, which has grown into its own movement. How do you process the weight of that—not just people listening, but leaning on your music?

GREYISHERE: Honestly, I’m still processing it. And I hope I always do, because I never want to get too comfortable. Imposter syndrome plays in my head all the time. While I feel incredibly grateful and spoiled by the support, I also keep thinking there’s more to do—more people to reach, more music to make, more boundaries to push. So, yes, I’m forever thankful, but I’m also always looking forward to what’s next.

ALLIÉ: Let’s go deeper: you were going through some heavy stuff when you wrote Risk. That song means so much to so many—but what does it mean to you, personally?

GREYISHERE: I haven’t really talked about this much in interviews. When I wrote Risk, I was having a really rough couple of weeks. Things were changing inside me, and at the same time, nothing was changing around me. I was fed up. The song is raw and uncut—just my thoughts and feelings about myself and what was going on in my head. When I ﬁnished recording it, I cried in my closet studio. That’s when I knew I had to release it.

Funny enough, I was supposed to release a completely different track that day. But instead, I thought, You know what? I’m going to take a risk. That’s literally how it got its name. I uploaded it to SoundCloud and YouTube—no crazy mixing or mastering—and it blew up. Later, with encouragement from friends, I put it on Spotify. Now it’s been streamed tens of millions of times, which still feels unreal. If you told middle-school me that this would happen, he’d laugh in your face. Honestly, it still blows my mind.

ALLIÉ: For those discovering your music now, Risk is a great place to start. Your music really is like a journal—raw and real. But I want to ask about the “E” for explicit. Some people might be surprised by the language. What do you say to that?

GREYISHERE: To me, explicit lyrics aren’t about shock value. They’re about emotion. Sometimes cursing is just the most honest way to express what I’m feeling.

I’ll share a story—my aunt on my dad’s side, who doesn’t listen to rap at all, once asked to hear my music. I showed her my second album, If I Died That Night, Part 1. She read the title out loud in front of everyone and said, “That doesn’t sound like something that should be coming out of your mouth.” It freaked her out.

Photo Credit: Elizabeth Rosales

Exclusive Interview with GREYISHERE https://awarenow.us/podcast/the-risk-factor

GREYISHERE: (continued) Moments like that remind me how differently people perceive my work. Around friends and fans, it feels normal. Around family, it can feel intense. I actually like that duality—it keeps me grounded and aware of outside perspectives.

ALLIÉ: And that duality is part of what makes your work layered. People can approach it from different entry points— lyrics, production, emotion—and take from it what they need. I also love that you give yourself permission to create outside of the rules.

One more question. When people strip away the artistic production, the genre-bending, the shadowy pirate energy in your music—what is the one truth you hope they carry away with them after listening?

GREYISHERE: That they’re not alone. That sense of community, of someone else “getting it,” is powerful.

Feeling understood—even if it’s just through a lyric or a vibe—can be euphoric. It’s addictive in a good way. That’s why I’m such a consumer of art myself. Every day I ﬁnd a song or project that makes me think, Yes, that’s exactly how I feel. That connection is beautiful.

I want people to look at me less like a “rapper” or a “genre” and more like a friend. I’m just someone making things I think are cool, and I’m lucky enough that others connect with it.

At the end of the day, life starts and life ends. In between, I want to make something that lives in people’s hearts—so it doesn’t end too soon, so it carries forward. We all have that potential. ∎

TAP/SCAN TO LISTEN

BELLA ZOE MARTINEZ

ACTOR & WRITER

Photo Credit: Michael Roud Photography

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH BELLA ZOE MARTINEZ

ONCE MORE LIKE RAIN MAN

FROM AUTISM STEREOTYPES TO SELF-REPRESENTATION IN FILM & BEYOND

When a story about autism is told without autistic voices, it often falls ﬂat or feeds stereotypes. Once More Like Rain Man changes that, with Bella Zoe Martinez not only writing the script but also bringing it to life on screen. In this conversation, Bella and I sit down for real talk about what it means to rewrite the narrative on autism, inclusion, and authenticity.

ALLIÉ: Before this ﬁlm, Bella, there were probably countless times when you felt like the world tried to tell your story for you. So, what was it like to ﬁnally step into a role where you got to tell your story your way—through your own voice and your own lens?

BELLA: I really love this question because my honest answer is that it was absolutely amazing. I’ve always been interested in storytelling. Ever since I got my hands on this little camera, my siblings and I would go around our old apartment recording stuff. Some of the videos weren’t great, but that wasn’t the point. What mattered was that we

BELLA ZOE MARTINEZ ACTOR & WRITER

Photo Credit: Michael Roud Photography

“Without Rain Man, services for autistic people like me, my brother, and my sister might not have existed—because people care about what they see. But the problem was that people never went beyond it.”

BELLA: (continued) I’d take my toys and we’d go on the wildest adventures. As my mom put it, my dolls had a very active social life. That imagination that never shut off made me think, maybe I could do this all the time—because I loved telling stories.

So to actually step into a role where I could tell a story through the eyes of someone autistic, and a female on the spectrum like me—that was absolutely crazy. Growing up, I never really saw that. Even when I got auditions, I wondered why that wasn’t there.

ALLIÉ: The ﬁlm’s title nods to one of the most infamous portrayals of autism, but the story itself ﬂips that narrative. How did it feel to be part of a project that challenged outdated stereotypes and showed something more real, more layered, and more you?

BELLA: Honestly, it felt liberating. Yes, Rain Man showed one side of the spectrum, and that mattered because it opened doors. Without Rain Man, services for autistic people like me, my brother, and my sister might not have existed—because people care about what they see. But the problem was that people never went beyond it.

Photo Credit: Michael Roud Photography

I’m not just one thing.

Photo Courtesy: Once More Like Rain Man

BELLA ZOE MARTINEZ ACTOR & WRITER

“For me—I’m chaotic, I’m a gamer, I’m terrible at math, I’m an artist and a writer… We can be more than a stereotype.”

BELLA: (continued) In improv, there’s “Yes, and…” So yes, there’s Rain Man. But the “and” is every other part of the spectrum that’s normally not shown. For me—I’m chaotic, I’m a gamer, I’m terrible at math, I’m an artist and a writer. I’m not just one thing. I wish I saw more moments in ﬁlm where autistic people are just doing silly, casual things with friends. That’d be nice. That’s what I wanted this ﬁlm to capture: We can be more than a stereotype, more than just the quirky side character.

ALLIÉ: We hear the words representation and inclusion all the time, but they’re not the same. From your perspective, Bella, what’s the difference? And what did Once More Like Rain Man get right that Hollywood so often misses?

BELLA: Forty percent of the cast and crew—on camera and off—were on the spectrum or otherwise neurodivergent. That was crucial. It meant accommodations were built in, without fear or stigma.

On our set, breaks were normal. The vibe was chill, fun, collaborative. People even stayed after their roles were done just to hang out. We had an unofﬁcial mascot—Camera Rat, a plastic rat from my brother’s old ice-skating routine— that became part of the set culture. And we ended early every day. It was the chillest set I’ve ever been on.

Tal Anderson (left), Bella Zoe Martinez (right)

Photo Courtesy: Once More Like Rain Man

I wish I saw more moments in ﬁlm where autistic people are just doing silly, casual things with friends. That’d be nice.

BELLA ZOE MARTINEZ ACTOR & WRITER

Photo Courtesy: Once More Like Rain Man

“For me—I’m chaotic. I’m a gamer.

I’m terrible at math. I’m an artist and a writer… We can be more than a stereotype.”

BELLA: (continued) In improv, there’s “Yes, and…” So yes, there’s Rain Man. But the “and” is every other part of the spectrum that’s normally not shown. For me—I’m chaotic. I’m a gamer. I’m terrible at math. I’m an artist and a writer. I’m not just one thing. I wish I saw more moments in ﬁlm where autistic people are just doing silly, casual things with friends. That’d be nice. That’s what I wanted this ﬁlm to capture: We can be more than a stereotype, more than just the quirky side character.

BELLA: Forty percent of the cast and crew—on camera and off—were on the spectrum or otherwise neurodivergent. That was crucial. It meant accommodations were built in, without fear or stigma.

BELLA ZOE MARTINEZ ACTOR & WRITER

Photo Credit: Michael Roud Photography

ONCE MORE LIKE RAIN MAIN

Exclusive Interview with Bella Zoe Martinez https://awarenow.us/podcast/once-more-like-rain-man

BELLA: (continued) I think I accidentally broke Hollywood. I thought, “Wait, normal sets aren’t like this?” And I thought, why not? They should be.”

ALLIÉ: When people hear “autism,” a lot still think in clichés—math genius, no eye contact, social awkwardness. As someone living it, what stereotype frustrates you the most? What do you wish people understood?

BELLA: That we’re all different people. We’re not the same person. Just because we’re on the spectrum doesn’t mean we’ll automatically get along or that we’re deﬁned by one trait.

For me, noise and ﬂuorescent lights can be overwhelming. For others, it’s different. Some of us are extroverts, some introverts. Some love math, some don’t. We want to be understood. We desire connection. We just communicate differently. But there’s always common ground. That’s what I wanted this ﬁlm to show—connection, and the desire to be seen.

ALLIÉ: Your ﬁlm does exactly that. Watching it, I felt full-length emotions in a short amount of time. It’s human. These are all human emotions and experiences. Different circumstances, yes—but the same humanity.

BELLA: Exactly. Even as a kid, I understood this is my normal. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just Bella. There’s a Bella-likeness that can’t be replicated anywhere else.

ALLIÉ: Final question, Bella: If you could leave audiences with one rewritten, properly written sentence—one line to replace the old script society has for autistic people—what would it be?

BELLA: It’s up to you to make a future that has you in it. And yes, you can. Even if it’s difﬁcult, even if the journey is hard—you can do it. ∎

TAP/SCAN TO LISTEN

Rights mean little at 140 feet above winter water. Let them mean a bed, a plan, and people who hold on, not jump off.

DR. TODD BROWN FOUNDER OF THE INSPIRE PROJECT & CO-FOUNDER OF OPERATION OUTBREAK

DR. TODD BROWN

THE BRIDGE BETWEEN CRISES

TURNING UNDERSTANDING INTO CARE

On a January day in 2017, Calvin Clark stood on the interstate bridge over the Columbia River, 140 feet above winter water. He was not more than a headline or a case number. He was a son, a friend, a young man trying to survive an illness that made survival feel impossible. Days earlier, police had found him wandering in traffic— scared, disoriented, talking about setting himself on fire or letting a car end it. There were no psychiatric beds. A five-day hold came and went. He was discharged to an Uber, dropped off at a shelter, and soon walked to that bridge. He jumped—and then he swam, because in a brief, stubborn flash his body remembered how to live. He was rescued. Two years later, after short stabilizations and breaks in medication, Calvin died after another jump, this time from a hotel roof. He was 21.

If you’ve read Robert Kolker’s Hidden Valley Road, you recognize the shape of this story even if the details differ. The Galvin family’s twelve children included six sons who developed schizophrenia, an illness that arrived not as a neat diagnosis but as confusion, fear, and pain. Their parents lived through eras when psychiatry blamed mothers, when treatments were scarce or punishing, and when even the best help meant years of vigilance, relapse, and repair. Kolker’s book isn’t a “gotcha” on the past. It records what happens when an illness that many cannot see is treated as a moral failing, a phase, or a private tragedy. The lesson is simple but difﬁcult. People do not suffer alone. Families do not ﬁght alone. Communities do not avoid the bill.

One word binds Calvin’s story to the Galvins’ and to thousands of families today: anosognosia. It isn’t denial in the pop-psych sense. It is a neurologic inability to perceive one’s own illness. When insight is absent, “choose treatment” is not a plan, it’s a slogan. That’s why so many loved ones describe the same revolving door:

street → brief hospital stay → discharge → jail → street

We can honor liberty, but we also need to admit that the absence of care is not freedom. Psychiatrist Darold Treffert captured the cruelty of our rules as “dying with their rights on.” People are left to deteriorate until they meet a catastrophic threshold of “imminent danger.” No one wins in that system, least of all the person who is ill.

Policy choices built this maze. Over the last half-century, we closed large state hospitals (often for good reasons) and promised robust community care that never arrived at scale. The result: fewer long-term beds, narrow commitment standards, and outpatient systems that depend on insight many people can’t muster when they most need it. Families are told to “come back if it gets worse,” which too often means “come back after a knife, a bridge, or a ﬁre is involved.”

Clinicians do courageous work inside rules that force them to stabilize and release. Advocates push to widen civilcommitment criteria or create court-ordered care pathways. In New York’s assisted outpatient treatment program, hospital admissions decreased by about 25% during the ﬁrst six months following a court order compared with the pre-order period (Swartz et al., 2010). Critics remind us that without step-down housing, case management, and continuity, more commitment only means more discharges into nothing. Everyone is right, and people are still falling.

And yet there is real progress through science—refusing the old blame and locating illness in biology, not character. In large genetic studies, researchers have identiﬁed rare, high-impact variants that increase schizophrenia risk, including genes involved in chromatin organization and inhibitory signaling (for example, SLC6A1, which affects GABA transmission). The point isn’t a single “schizophrenia gene.” It’s the accumulating map. We must understand that this is the brain, not willpower. It is synaptic, not sin. Hidden Valley Road also shows how the Galvins’ participation in research helped drive that turn away from parents-as-pathology and toward neurodevelopmental pathways we can measure, model, and—given enough persistence—treat more precisely.

So, what does understanding and helping look like in practice?

Earlier, steadier intervention. We should stop mistaking short holds for care. When insight is absent, help must be measured in continuity: weeks to months of treatment that include medication, therapy, peer support, and rehabilitation, followed by warm handoffs and persistent follow-up. Assertive Community Treatment can be lifesaving, but it only works when teams are resourced and, crucially, when there is somewhere safe to sleep.

A true “middle space.” Not jail. Not a 72-hour stopover. Not an unlocked clinic visit a month from now. We need digniﬁed, longer-term residential options—small, therapeutic homes where people can live, work part-time, learn skills, rebuild trust, and step down gradually. This is where outcomes improve. This is where families can exhale.

Families as partners. When anosognosia is present, loved ones are often the only historians, the only safety net. With consent and safeguards, systems should default to including families—teaching what to watch for, whom to call, how to navigate beneﬁts, and how to endure. Families should not have to choose between privacy and safety, or between love and boundaries.

Policy that follows the person. Debates about commitment standards and federal funding rules matter, but they must be linked to beds, staff, and housing. If we expand authority to treat, we must also expand the places and people who can provide that treatment, which makes recovery sustainable. States can combine ﬂexible Medicaid dollars with federal support for community mental-health clinics and housing vouchers to build the stepdown “middle space” that keeps care continuous. Parity is not poetry. It is budgets, training slots, mobile teams, respite beds, and leases.

Language that refuses stigma. We don’t say a person “is cancer.” We say they “have cancer.” The same dignity should be automatic for schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, and severe depression. Words will change budgets, votes, and whether a neighbor calls 911 to punish or to protect. Person-ﬁrst language is not cosmetic. It is the difference between an open door and a locked one.

“People

Calvin was not a set of symptoms. He surfed. He debated. He noticed when others needed encouragement. The Galvin children in Hidden Valley Road were not case studies. They were brothers and sisters whose lives were shaped (and sometimes shattered) by an illness the world struggled to admit was real. People living with serious mental illness deserve what anyone with a life-threatening condition deserves: timely care, a safe place to recover, continuity, and respect.

The importance of understanding and helping is not abstract. It is whether a mother is told, “Come back when he’s dangerous,” or “We have a plan and a bed.” It is whether science continues to march toward treatments that fit the brain in front of us. It is whether we can say, with a straight face, that the richest nation on earth offers something more than a bridge between crises.

Rights mean little at 140 feet above winter water. Let them mean a bed, a plan, and people who hold on, not jump off. ∎

DR. TODD BROWN

Awareness Ties Columnist www.awarenowmedia.com/todd-brown

Brown is a winner of multiple education awards, including the U.S. Congressional Teacher of the Year Award, U.S. Henry Ford Innovator Award, Education Foundation Innovator of the Year, and Air Force Association STEM Teacher of the Year. Dr. Brown is the creator and founder of the Inspire Project and cocreator of Operation Outbreak, which was named the Reimagine Education Award for Best Hybrid Program in the world. He is also an Education Ambassador for the United Nations and an Educational Ambassador of the Center for Disease Control (CDC). www.IamAwareNow.com

I rise from the fracture, because I can.

ALLIÉ MCGUIRE CO-FOUNDER OF AWARENOW & OFFICIAL AMBASSADOR FOR MS AWARENESS

ORIGINAL POEM BY ALLIÉ

MCGUIRE

ON THE EDGE WITH MS

Some days with MS feel like standing at the very edge—fragile, uncertain, but still unbroken. This poem is my reminder, my rebellion, and my reason: I keep moving forward, not because it’s easy, but because I can.

I smile on the edge where the shadows fall, When louder than sirens, I hear the call. MS may shout, it may demand, But I move forward, because I can.

The edge is a place both fragile and true, A balance of fear and the faith I pursue. It dares me to stumble, it dares me to stand, I rise from the fracture, because I can.

Each mile I take, each breath, each stride, Turns pain into power I carry inside. Though storms may surround and steal what they can, They cannot defeat me, because I can.

The edge is the border of breaking and bend, A line I walk daily that never will end. But living is leaning, and leaning is ﬂight, I shine through the darkness, I carry the light.

For every night heavy, there comes a new dawn, A chorus of courage that carries me on. Though body may falter, my spirit will stand, I ﬁght every battle, because I can.

The edge holds a truth that is sharper than steel: It cuts, yet it shows me the depth of what’s real. It carves me, reﬁnes me, it shapes who I am, It sculpts me in ﬁre, because I can.

The weight of this illness is heavy to bear, It steals without warning, it strips and it tears. But still in the silence, I craft my own plan, To rise from the ashes, because I can.

THE EDGE WITH MS

Written and Narrated by

Allié McGuire

https://awarenow.us/podcast/on-the-edge-with-ms

The edge is my teacher, it sharpens my view, It tells me the story of breaking in two. But broken is beauty, imperfect is grand, I build from the pieces, because I can.

When fear tries to bind me, I loosen the chain, When weakness surrounds me, my will shall remain. The edge is not ﬁnal, it’s where I began, I live on this threshold, because I can.

So hear me, my sister, my brother, my friend, This journey’s not easy, the climb doesn’t end. But still we keep going, still we outrun the span, We live, love, and sustain, because we can. ∎

TAP/SCAN TO LISTEN

DR. VICTOR RIOS MACARTHUR FOUNDATION CHAIR & PROFESSOR OF SOCIOLOGY AT

‘PEQ

PERFORMANCE’ EXCLUSIVE COLUMN BY SONJA MONTIEL

FROM HEAD START TO HIGHER ED

THE JOURNEY OF RESILIENCE & EDUCATIONAL TRANSFORMATION

It began under a tree in a public park. Dr. Victor Rios, then a toddler, was playing with his brother when he noticed how dark it was getting. He asked his mother, “¿Cuándo nos vamos a casa?”(“When are we going home?”) Her response: “We’re going to sleep right here.” That moment was the beginning of Dr. Victor Rios’ journey shaped by housing insecurity, trauma, and the transformative power of education.

Just steps away from that park was a community center offering a Head Start program. “Despite all the hopelessness,” Victor recalls, “those teachers instilled hope in me.” They told him he was a good reader, and at the time, he didn’t know how to read. However, that belief stayed with him through graduate school at UC Berkeley, where he would hear their voices during long nights of study: You’re a good reader.

But Victor’s path was far from linear. He describes an eight-year learning loss, disengaging from school in third grade and dropping out in ninth and tenth. For the days he attended school, his hoodie would cover his face with conviction that he was not a learner. It wasn’t until eleventh grade, after the death of his best friend, that he returned to school. There was a teacher, Ms. Russ, that remained consistent and persistent during his on and off time during high school. “She gave me wings,” he says. “She taught me to ﬂy, even when I didn’t believe I had wings.”

By eleventh grade, Victor wanted to learn. Ms. Russ helped Victor catch up on credits through zero periods, lunchtime tutoring, night school, and dual enrollment. He graduated on time and went on to Cal State East Bay, where programs like Educational Opportunity Program (EOP) and Summer Bridge helped him recover academically. By his second year, he was thriving. Soon after, he was accepted into graduate school at UC Berkeley.

Victor’s success sparked a deep level of curiosity. He knows that his story shouldn’t be an outlier, and yet, many people say he is. Victor warns against the “outlier” narrative. “It implies most people from our communities aren’t meant to make it. But opportunity matters, and knowing how to seize it is key for students.”

Diving deeper into inquiry, Victor reﬂected:

What allows “at-promise” students to thrive?

What educational experiences create obstacles for students to move from survival to thriving human beings? How can I help change these systems?

After publishing Punished: Policing the Lives of Black and Latino Boys, Victor became a leading sociologist and voice on the school-to-prison pipeline. Authoring a total of 8 books, he grew tired of reporting bad news. “I wanted to prevent these bad things from happening,” he says. “Schools are the best place to invest in, where people with good hearts already work.”

DR. VICTOR RIOS

FOUNDATION CHAIR & PROFESSOR

MACARTHUR

OF SOCIOLOGY AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, SANTA BARBARA

“It’s called co-vitality. These trees support each other. If one tree is in a dry spot, another sends nourishment through the root highway.”

He envisioned schools as community-serving institutions, offering resources and connection. But he also saw a gap. Being invited to speak at annual conferences and summits, “Teachers were inspired by my keynotes, but the spark faded. They needed tools and systems to apply that spark year-round.”

That vision became the Scholar System, a framework built on the practices of the most experienced educators like Ms. Russ. One tool, Praise and Projection, afﬁrms a student’s effort and projects a powerful future. “You’re a strong writer,” Ms. Russ would say. “I know you’ll be a great attorney.” At ﬁrst, it felt far-fetched. But it planted a seed of what could be possible.

Overall, Victor compiled 150 tools into a handbook and built a team of 21 educators, including former foster youth, licensed therapists, and classroom veterans. Among them is Mr. Regis Inge, Kendrick Lamar’s middle school teacher. Before Kendrick credited him in Rolling Stone, Victor and Mr. Inge were friends. “He’s still in the classroom, 30 years in Compton, saving lives,” Victor says. “And he always says, ‘Kendrick’s just one of them. I’ve got hundreds more.’” Also included is Demonte Thompson, a former foster youth from Compton now completing his PhD at UCLA. Demonte studies how classroom environments impact foster youth, both positively and negatively, and brings lived experience to the Scholar System’s mission. They are currently working with 25 school districts.

This collective wisdom honors not just what educators know, but how they show up. During our interview, I shared how there is emphasis creating belonging-culture for students, and I have always wondered where the emphasis was for belonging-culture for the adults, the educators. Victor agrees. “Educators need to know that they are being seen, valued, and afﬁrmed not just in isolation, but also in unity. Scholar Systems helps to build this community.”

He introduces a framework that applied to both students and educators:

Victim → Survivor → Thriver

Many people, young and old, who have traumatic experiences might remain stuck in the Victim mindset. Survivors rise above their experiences and grit through it. However, it is the Thrivers that use their experiences to fuel action and transformation. “Teachers told me, ‘I’m not just going to teach my students to thrive, I’m going to teach myself to thrive.’”

When asked about the educational eco-system, Victor uses the metaphor of the Redwoods. Individually, each tree has a towering presence, representing their individual roots strongly anchored to their environment. What makes Redwoods even more powerful is their networked root system. “It’s called co-vitality,” he explains. “These trees support each other. If one tree is in a dry spot, another sends nourishment through the root highway. They thrive together.” This metaphor is how Victor imagines a thriving educational eco-system in the near future.

DR. VICTOR RIOS

HEAD START

TO HIGHER ED

Written and Narrated by Sonja Montiel

https://awarenow.us/podcast/from-head-start-to-higher-ed

This vision seems far from the contrasting reality that our society is experiencing today. The dehumanization seen in society from immigrant bashing and racial profiling to systemic neglect and avoidance, Victor offers small steps from each of us to create a thriving environment. Victor shares a story of a young girl selling flowers at a restaurant, likely protecting her undocumented mother. “My wife and I bought all her flowers and told her to keep them,” he says. “She cried. We cried. And in that moment, we saw the answer: our children are already protecting their families. They are the future where they will create ways to avoid social impacts like the one we currently have.”

The change doesn’t have to start with grand gestures. It begins with a simple act: Seeing someone. Offering kindness. Afﬁrming dignity.

“People struggling are everywhere,” Victor says. “You don’t have to look hard. You just have to stop ignoring them.” When we nurture the roots of those who nurture others, we are indeed creating a network of co-vitality. ∎

Learn More About Dr. Victor Rios & Scholar Systems

Dr. Victor Rios: drvictorrios.com

Scholar System: www.scholarsystem.org

About Dr. Victor Rios

Dr. Victor Rios is MacArthur Foundation Chair and Professor of Sociology at the University of California, Santa Barbara. He received his Ph.D. at the University of California Berkeley in 2005. Professor Rios has worked with local school districts to develop programs and curricula aimed at improving the quality of interactions between authority ﬁgures and youths. Using his personal experience of living on the streets, dropping out of school, and being incarcerated as a juvenile—along with his research ﬁndings—he has developed interventions for marginalized students aimed at promoting personal transformation and civic engagement.

SONJA MONTIEL

Co-Founder of PEQ Performance Consulting www.awarenowmedia.com/sonja-montiel

SONJA MONTIEL (MA Education) is a cofounder of PEQ Performance Consulting LLC and cohost of “The DH Effect” podcast. She and her partner, Hilary Bilbrey, guide individuals, families, and teams to consistently reach successful outcomes through positive and emotional intelligence strategies. During Sonja’s 23 years working with thousands of teens and young adults worldwide, she began to witness many societies creating an unhealthy hyper-achieving culture that misguides our young people in their pursuit of living a life of fulﬁllment. Sonja is changing that narrative highlighting educators around the world who dare to think differently about education. (www.peq-performance.com)

www.IamAwareNow.com

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DARWIN DEL FABRO ACTOR, MODEL & SINGER

Photo Credit: Oliver Miguel

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH DARWIN DEL FABRO

THE BEAUTIFUL IN-BETWEEN

AN UNAPOLOGETIC CONVERSATION ON IDENTITY, POWER, & PRESENCE

There are some stories that aren’t just told—they’re lived, rewritten, and embodied. Sitting down with Darwin Del Fabro felt less like an interview and more like a shared moment of reﬂection between two people who’ve spent time on the margins, now meeting in the middle with open hearts. In this conversation, Darwin speaks not only as an artist but as a trans woman who is still becoming—truthfully, powerfully, and unapologetically.

ALLIÉ: Let’s start by talking about growing up. Growing up, I always felt like I was orbiting around the edges of things but never quite landing. I’ve learned to see that as a kind of gift, but it took time. So my ﬁrst question for you is this: was there a moment when what made you feel different started to feel like a power instead of isolation?

DARWIN: Interesting. I think the power and the isolation are all together. Sometimes isolation gives you power. Since I was young, I started to have feelings and thoughts. I began singing when I was three. I always had the support of my family, but as I used to say, some journeys require solitude. Those are the moments you start to ﬁnd yourself. When you stop listening to others’ voices and others’ constructions or ideas of who you will be, and instead ask yourself, Who do I want to be?—that’s where strength appears. For me, that came early on. It took a process, a

FABRO ACTOR, MODEL & SINGER

Photo Credit: Mari Eimas-Dietrich

DARWIN DEL

“Putting myself there as a writer and owning the narrative of my own story, there’s nothing more powerful than that.”

ALLIÉ: I love you saying that sometimes this journey requires moments of solitude, giving you the space to listen to yourself rather than to those outside of you. You know, there are roles we take on in life—roles I’ve taken on not on a stage, but in real life—that felt less like choices and more like truths ﬁnally allowed to breathe. So I’m curious, has there ever been a character or performance where you thought: This is a piece of me that I’ve never been able to show until now?

DARWIN: Right now, Lily—the play I’m doing. Putting myself there as a writer and owning the narrative of my own story, there’s nothing more powerful than that.

I was just talking with a friend yesterday about how privileged I am to be in New York, living with the arts I adore and sustaining myself with them. That’s not the reality for most trans women in the world. The average life expectancy for a trans woman is 35 years old. Many of us leave school early, afraid of the world, and often our only option is sex work. So there is a risk, an urgency, that I fortunately don’t experience in the same way. With the privilege I have, and the time that privilege gives, I started writing this play—trying to tell our story, at least my story, as a version of what I hope inspires others.

Looking back, most of the works I’ve done were on different journeys, but I was always defending the same thing. There was always queerness involved.

When I did They/Them, it was the ﬁrst time a non-binary kid was the protagonist of a slasher movie. I was so proud to be part of that. Before that, in Brazil—the place with the highest murder rate of trans women—I performed Lili Elbe: Transformations when I was just 14. I ﬁrst got Lili’s diaries at 13. That story inspired me to educate and tell her truth. For me, art and life are always mixed together. Each character becomes part of me. And as an actor, even when the script isn’t there, I try to bring myself to the role.

Here in America, they’re not writing Brazilian roles for trans women—it’s so speciﬁc. So you have to invent, or exchange with writers and directors, to see if they’ll open the door to a little more diversity.

ALLIÉ: Yes. I love how you put that—it made me think about how often it is art imitating life, life imitating art. That space between them feels so real and so true.

DARWIN: Yes, but it’s also a challenge. Since I was young, I created excuses not to see problems. I was always working, grateful to be working in Brazil. Then, when I moved to America, I had to learn English—I couldn’t speak a word nine years ago. There were challenges, barriers, and goals. But I also realized strength can be tricky. You can bury yourself in work. I lived at the beach in Brazil and Panama but never went, saying I didn’t like the sun. That wasn’t true—I was just hiding.

I never dated for ten years. Why? Because I was always working. Sometimes strength masks vulnerability. But vulnerability is powerful and beautiful. That’s what theater brings us—it’s life, not perfect. Mistakes happen on stage. That is the magic. I don’t want perfection; I want sincerity and truth.

DARWIN DEL FABRO ACTOR, MODEL & SINGER

Photo Credit: Oliver Miguel

“Transitioning meant choosing a life full of problems—with business, friendships, healthcare. But we keep ﬁghting because we want to be the truest version of ourselves.”

ALLIÉ: That’s beautiful. And I love how you share that realization: Here I am on the beach, but I don’t go to the beach because I’m working. Sometimes work becomes the safe place we hide in.

DARWIN: Exactly. And there is strength in that, too. But the reality is, Brazil has been the most dangerous country for trans women for 13 consecutive years. Transitioning meant choosing a life full of problems—with business, friendships, healthcare. But we keep ﬁghting because we want to be the truest version of ourselves. There’s nothing more empowering.

I used to be private, but now I think—2025 is here, elections happened, gender questions are everywhere—I want to look back in 5 or 10 years and say: I did my part. I showed beauty on the stage, truthfully.

ALLIÉ: Yes—showing up in truth, authentically you. That takes strength.

DARWIN: And we need to demystify things. If you’re not trans, don’t be afraid to touch the subject. Don’t be afraid to make mistakes. I’m Darwin—I believe in evolution. I will keep trying to become a better version of myself. I’ll make mistakes. Let’s connect, let’s make mistakes together, and have sympathy—for ourselves and for others.

ALLIÉ: Yes. But let’s talk about labels. They almost make me itch. I’ve always found more truth in the in-betweens— not this, not that, but something else. You move through those spaces with so much grace. How have you found peace—and maybe even power—in that in-between space?

DARWIN: I think we’re always in between if we’re vulnerable and open. That’s the magic. Part of me is still the boy from Rio who gave me strength. And part of me is the woman I’ve become. I’m a mix of all my experiences.

I had the support of my dad—my best friend—who told me, Go, I’m here. Share everything with me. That gave me the courage to plan my transition: two years, seven surgeries. I had to prepare, to feel safe and supported.

Labels? Sometimes they’re important, but they depend on each person’s journey. Same with stereotypes—there’s always some truth, but how do we build from there? Cinema and theater inﬂuenced me deeply, but I had to deconstruct and rebuild myself.

I’m still searching, still writing roles that inspire people. We need more diversity—because the world is diverse. That’s why I live in New York. It’s a small place where everyone interacts, where cultures collide. I hope to see that diversity reﬂected more in movies, series, and theater.

ALLIÉ: Yes. The beauty of cinema and theater is stepping out of yourself and into someone else’s reality. Then, when you come back to yourself, you bring something new with you—strength, perspective, insight.

Photo Credit: Mari Eimas-Dietrich

DARWIN DEL FABRO ACTOR, MODEL & SINGER

Podcast

THE BEAUTIFUL IN-BETWEEN

Exclusive Interview with Darwin Del Fabro https://awarenow.us/podcast/the-beautiful-in-between

DARWIN: Exactly. That’s what Lili gave me. When I ﬁrst read her diary at 13, I didn’t know who I would become, but I knew I wasn’t alone. There’s a passage where she writes:

Dear future self,

I wonder who you’ll be when you read this.

Will you be happy?

Will you be at peace?

Will you have found the courage to embrace everything you are? I hope so.

I hope you’ll look back at this moment and see it for what it is— a beginning, a declaration, a promise never to give up on yourself.

When I read that, I was moved to tears. Even if she lived in Denmark in 1933, her words gave me strength.

ALLIÉ: Thank you for sharing that passage. I don’t know if you can see, but I actually have goosebumps on my arm. One more thing before we go. Sometimes I meet people who are still waiting for permission to be themselves. If one of them is sitting with us here right now, what would you tell them—not as Darwin, but as you?

DARWIN: I don’t like the word permission. We don’t need permission to be ourselves.

We just need to remove the layers. It’s a challenging journey, and everyone’s reality is different. But the one thing I would say is this: You are beautiful.

It took me so long to ﬁnd beauty in myself. When I ﬁnally did, I started seeing a much more beautiful world. Find beauty in yourself, and then embrace the world with that beauty.

Yes, there is hate, yes, people will challenge you—but keep searching for happiness, for beauty in yourself and in others. And protect yourself, because the world isn’t always kind. But conversations like this? They’re beautiful. ∎

Find & follow Darwin on Instagram: @darwindelfabro

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The ultimate horror is something that shouldn’t be happening—but is.

TODD BROWN AUTHOR, SPEAKER & SOCIAL SCIENTIST

WHEN SHADOWS BURN

UNCOVERING THE DARKNESS WE CARRY &THE LIGHT WE CHOOSE TO CREATE

Some houses whisper, but in Todd Brown’s debut novel When Shadows Burn, the past doesn’t whisper — it screams. Set in a small Southern town with secrets as heavy as its history, this Southern Gothic thriller explores identity, silence, and the cost of truth. Today, we step into the shadows of Raven’s Cross with the author himself, to uncover the artistry and intention behind a story that feels hauntingly real.

ALLIÉ: Well, let’s get started. In your debut novel When Shadows Burn, Raven’s Cross and The Scott House are more than settings. They feel alive—almost like characters themselves. What inspired you to give place such a degree of presence? And second, how does that reﬂect the truths that communities carry, not only in their walls but in their histories?

TODD: The reality is that when people read, especially Southern Gothics, there is so little inclusion of neurodivergent and queer people. It may be unintentional, but it’s a form of erasure. When you never include certain groups— especially marginalized groups—in these stories, it’s as though they don’t exist. And that makes it easier to ignore

“A story can catch ﬁre and persist with zero basis in fact, simply because it’s historical. But that doesn’t make it true.”

TODD: (continued) Ultimately, I wanted to write a reﬂection of so many towns in America that probably are doing this. They may use the excuse of heritage, or lean into clique bias—deciding who gets forgiven when something goes wrong. If you have historical roots in the area, you’re forgiven more quickly than the outsider—whether that’s someone who moved in or someone who is marginalized.

So I wanted to give the town itself, and the house, the feel of being characters. Neurodivergent and queer people do exist, even in rural America. They’re just not seeing themselves portrayed that way, and that’s a real issue.

ALLIÉ: Absolutely. And you do it so brilliantly. Let’s talk about how your novel opens—a quiet tragedy in the past that sets the tone for everything that follows.

Why was it important for you to begin the story with history, and what does that say about the way communities handle—or fail to handle—their own scars?

TODD: I think you just hit it on the head. If something has historical roots, people tend to say, “That’s just the way it is.” I hear this a lot with marginalized communities.

When you apply today’s morality and ethics to history, you see enormous wrongs. But people often reclassify it and excuse it: “Those were just the times.” That doesn’t excuse the behaviors or the language. We’ve moved on, and we need to call a fault a fault. That’s how we progress—by unveiling and addressing these things through the lens of today. That’s why I started the book the way I did—to create that “whisper down the lane” effect, like the game Operator. A story can catch ﬁre and persist with zero basis in fact, simply because it’s historical. But that doesn’t make it true.

ALLIÉ: Yes—and to that point, if we can’t see it, we can’t learn from it. If it’s buried, we don’t have the chance to grow. It’s bound to repeat itself because we never learned the lesson.

One of your central characters arrives in Raven’s Cross chasing a story, only to uncover something much deeper than expected. What were you hoping to explore about truth-seekers and the risks and rewards of asking questions that others might be afraid to ask?

TODD: First, I wanted to write the best book I’d ever read—that didn’t exist. There are things missing in this genre, and I wanted to ﬁll that gap.

On the surface, the main character’s intention is one thing, but they get swept away into something else entirely. They’re just trying to stay aﬂoat in the tidal wave of garbage they suddenly have to deal with. That mirrors real life. We set out to do one thing, and suddenly we’re caught up in something else. Social media ampliﬁes this—one comment can bring judgment from millions of strangers who don’t know your context.

What is the cost of telling a story?

TODD BROWN AUTHOR, SPEAKER & SOCIAL SCIENTIST

“I know I have to be armed with information and ready to snap back at ignorance every time we leave the house.”

TODD: (continued) In fact, the sequel, What the Raven Saw, really interrogates this. It asks: What is the cost of telling a story? We consume true crime all the time, but what about the people involved—those who don’t want the story retold? Not for malicious reasons, but because they don’t want to relive it. What happens when the world commodiﬁes tragedy, turning someone’s trauma into a tourist attraction? That’s what I wanted to explore.

ALLIÉ: And you do it so profoundly—showing the risks, the rewards, and the weight of truth.

Let’s talk about another character. Their journey is rooted in identity and the courage to live authentically, even in the face of fear and resistance. What does that arc reveal about resilience?

TODD: Without giving spoilers—the reality is people shouldn’t have to reach the point where bravery overshadows terror. That shouldn’t be necessary.

The root of this story, to me, is that the ultimate horror is something that shouldn’t be happening but is.

I’m a father of a trans son. I can’t imagine what it’s like to wake up every day knowing people hate you for no reason. I’ll never have to face that. But my son does—for absolutely no reason. His bravery to live authentically, in the face of unfounded hate, is profound. And it’s disgusting that it even has to happen. That’s the true horror.

ALLIÉ: And what that must be like for your son, but also for you as a parent—knowing you can’t protect him from that.

TODD: Yeah, it’s horrifying. Fortunately, we live in a supportive area, but we do leave that bubble. I know I have to be armed with information and ready to snap back at ignorance every time we leave the house.

I also know what I’ve written will be controversial. My publicist and I are already discussing what happens when the book gets banned. Honestly, I’ll wear that as a badge of honor. But it’s absurd that we’re even here.

ALLIÉ: Yes—and we should be so much further along.

You develop your characters with such depth that I hurt with them, and I healed with them. Which character do you see yourself in most, and why?

TODD: Probably Tim, the podcaster. There’s also Bob, a teacher, who has a little of me in him. And Amanda, the female lead—that’s my wife. A lot of our banter is just straight from our house.

But Tim is the one I most identify with. He’s trying to do his best, tell stories, do his job—then gets swept into something bigger than he imagined. Once he realizes the truth, he decides to ﬁght for what’s right.

That’s how I wrote it: write what you know, create good characters, and the story will follow. Stephen King said it best —“Write good characters and then the story will take care of itself.”

WHEN SHADOWS BURN

Exclusive Interview with Todd Brown https://awarenow.us/podcast/when-shadows-burn

“I want readers to reﬂect on their actions and words—because everything carries weight.”

ALLIÉ: Without giving anything away, your novel ends with a mix of loss and hope, darkness and light. What message do you most want readers to carry with them about truth, healing, and the possibility of redemption?

TODD: Life isn’t cut and dry. It’s full of plot twists, changes, and people who surprise us.

I want readers to reﬂect on their actions and words—because everything carries weight. Especially kids—they’re always watching how we react. I’d rather pass on love than hate.

Horror, at its best, holds up a mirror. It shows us parts of ourselves we might not like. That’s the real scary part—not the gore, but the recognition. If we can face that with humility and change, then we can ﬁnd redemption. ∎

Learn more about When Shadows Burn online: www.toddbrownwrites.net Get your copy here: www.awarenow.us/book/when-shadows-burn

ELIZABETH BLAKE-THOMAS STORYTELLER, PHILANTHROPIST & OFFICIAL AMBASSADOR FOR HUMAN TRAFFICKING AWARENESS

‘MEDICINE WITH WORDS’ EXCLUSIVE COLUMN BY ELIZABETH BLAKE-THOMAS

THROUGH DARKNESS FINDING LIGHT IN THE SHADOWS OF GRIEF

I lost my four-legged daughter, soulmate, best friend, partner, and plus one eight weeks ago. She passed unexpectedly at 13 of a heart attack. My previous article explains the initial shock; the following is the next stage.

It’s eight weeks into my grief journey. What have I learned so far? Grief is lonely, yet it connects people. Grief is painful, yet it feels like a release. Grief is unique, yet universal. Grief sneaks up on you when you’re least expecting it. I’ll be honest—last night I went for a walk with Chai in her bag (I carry her ashes with me everywhere), and I started to think about her passing. Unfortunately, I began a bit of a rollercoaster and started downward spiraling. Normally, a walk clears my head, but for some reason I began crying more and more until I had to take myself home and cry some more—painful, releasing, moaning, groaning crying.

I had a day of pretending I was ﬁne. Not in a bad way, just consciously trying to be in public and “carry on.” It had obviously been too much for me, and so my body needed to release when I got home. I let it. I let myself groan, cry, spiral, and then gradually, after two hours, I began to bring myself out of it.

Why is letting it out so important? Because otherwise all of that emotion would be stored somewhere in my body, and I know that will physically cause me problems. So I’ve done something I haven’t done since I was a child, when I was called “emotional” or “angry” or “attention seeking.” I have recognized how important it is to feel and let our emotions out! I’ve given my emotions the space to feel safe and have a voice.

It’s a cathartic experience which, believe me, in one way I wish I wasn’t experiencing and instead was home hugging Chai just like I used to. But in another, I am awakening something I didn’t know I had on such a deep level in me: an open vulnerability, increased awareness of self, space to let myself grow to a new level, and an empathy and understanding of others I thought I already had but is now super heightened.

My body was exhausted after my crying release. I just lay and slept—my body telling me what it needs. This will happen often, I’m sure, and when I least expect it. But I have to trust the process. I have to respect what my brain and body need to do whilst on this grief journey.

I’ve noted down a few things that are not making it better but assist me when I’m having a difﬁcult time or moment. This is by no means a list of certain ﬁxes, merely a way to feel and be with the grief and then do whatever you feel is right for the stage you’re at.

1. It’s 2:20 AM and I’m writing this article, so the ﬁrst thought for you is: do whatever feels right. If you can’t sleep and want to get up, do. If you want to just sleep lots, do. If you need to turn on a TV series or go on TikTok in the middle of the night to distract yourself, do. For now, do whatever you need to do.

2. Create from your grief. Whether that’s writing, painting, drawing, singing, gardening—this could literally be anything. Find an outlet somewhere. You don’t have to be any good; this isn’t about perfection. It’s about an artistic release. I have my canvases on my easel and paints next to it so I can just go and paint. No thinking necessary. My books and pens sit on the side so I can just grab and draw. Having everything easily accessible allows me to just do.

ELIZABETH BLAKE-THOMAS STORYTELLER, PHILANTHROPIST & OFFICIAL AMBASSADOR FOR HUMAN TRAFFICKING AWARENESS

“I grew in some way.”

The biggest thing I’ve learned is that time is not a healer. My cavern has got bigger and darker, the dark tunnel is longer, and there is still no light at the end of it. Each day I am more aware of the fact that Chai isn’t coming back and that life is different. But even being more aware of the tunnel and cavern means I’m seeing more in the darkness. This is even more powerful than seeing a light given by someone else. I’m having to create my own light here, inside the darkness—feeling, ﬁnding my way without outside intervention. Feeling safe in this darkness and allowing myself to get used to it.

I watched Love on the Spectrum the other night, and there was a psychologist who explained something to one of the girls (she drew three circles). The ﬁrst circle is our comfort zone. The second larger encasing circle was the panic zone. But if you draw a thin circle on the outskirts of the comfort zone and in the panic zone, that is the secret space called the learning zone.

This really resonated with me. Not only because I enjoy visual diagrams to help understand emotions, but because it felt like an “aha” moment! At home, hidden from the world, safe with my emotions, I’m in my comfort zone. Out in the big world all day, trying to fake it till you make it, is the panic zone—the masking and feeling exhausted at the end of the day zone. BUT having taken that little step out there meant I learned something. I grew in some way. I could recognize I was in my learning zone. The things we learn may not be immediately obvious, but 24 hours later, or maybe a week or even longer, that learning zone will enable you to exist in this new way.

So have I worked out what my learning zone looks like? Not yet. But after the breakdown, I understood myself more. I was proud of myself. I reached out to a couple of dear friends I could trust to speak to (left messages for). I got through it. That’s the key—if we can “get through,” that’s a big win. For now, be kind to yourself. Take those wins, whatever they look like. Be unafraid to be you and feel. It really is better out than in.

Thank you for listening. All my love, Chai and I. ∎

ELIZABETH BLAKE-THOMAS

Storyteller, Philanthropist & Ofﬁcial Ambassador for Human Trafﬁcking Awareness www.awarenowmedia.com/elizabethblakethomas

Elizabeth Blake-Thomas is a British award-winning storyteller and philanthropist based in Los Angeles. She is the founder and resident director of entertainment company Mother & Daughter Entertainment, whose motto is “Making Content That Matters”, putting focus on each project starting a conversation amongst viewers. She is also the creator of the healing methodology Medicine with Words which is designed to help “spring clean” your mind and help free yourself from unnecessary noise so that you can live a more purposeful, peaceful life. She is the author of Filmmaking Without Fear which is a multi-medium resource curated for indie ﬁlmmakers. Her FWF podcast is available on all streaming platforms, and the book of the same name is available on Amazon. She is a regular on panels at Sundance, Cannes and Toronto International Film Festival, Elizabeth mentors wherever possible, ensuring she sends the elevator back down to all other female storytellers.

NICK HARAUZ CREATIVE TECHNOLOGIST, EDUCATOR & STORYTELLER

Photo Courtesy: Nick Harauz

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH NICK HARAUZ

THE CREATIVE CURRENT

RIDING THE WAVES OF ADHD TO TURN DISTRACTION INTO DIRECTION

Creativity isn’t always a straight line — sometimes it’s a storm, sometimes it’s a spark, and sometimes it’s both at once. Today I’m joined by someone who knows that tension well: Nick Harauz, a creative technologist, educator, and storyteller who has spent over two decades shaping the way we see and share ideas.

ALLIÉ: Before we dive into the mess and the magic of creativity, can you take us back a bit? Who is Nick? Not just the titles and the work you do, but the story of how you became the creative voice that you are today.

NICK: Wow. I like to consider myself an accidental creative. There were a few different ﬂashpoints that led me on my creative journey. One was most notable after university. I was studying sociology and ﬁlm studies and really didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. At that point, I thought, You know what? I’m just going to apply for this internship in Canada.

There was an organization called the CFTPA where I could get a stipend to work with a company in Vancouver and

NICK HARAUZ CREATIVE TECHNOLOGIST, EDUCATOR & STORYTELLER

Photo Courtesy: Nick Harauz

NICK: (continued) During that time, I was primarily helping with both pre-production and post-production. On the preproduction side, I was reading scripts, analyzing them, and then advising the executive producer on whether or not to pass them along. On the post side, I was cutting together a few projects in terms of video editing. And I just… I fell in love with it. I fell in love with video editing—cutting and putting things together. After the internship, I moved back home and continued along that journey.

ALLIÉ: So let’s dive in a little deeper. Many people see ADHD as a hurdle. But for you, how has it been both the challenge and the spark that’s shaped your creativity?

NICK: That’s such a great question. I think the superpower when it comes to creativity is hyperfocus. It’s the ability to just get into something. No matter how many distractions are around you, you can dive in and create something beautiful.

But in some ways, that’s also the disadvantage, because your concept of time doesn’t necessarily translate like it does for other people. Everyone struggles with time management, but ADHD especially so. It can be a struggle to implement systems that allow you to succeed, and to augment production, post work, and all types of content you want to put into the world.

ALLIÉ: So, both sides of it—the pros and the cons. Which is often the case with many things in life. But when your mind is racing in a dozen different directions, what helps you slow it down enough to turn scattered thoughts into something intentional and meaningful?

NICK: Such a great question. I’ll bring you back to a time where I felt overwhelmed, about seven or eight years ago. I was getting more seasoned in my career, taking on more projects, and saying yes to more than I should have. I felt overwhelmed.

I remember a doctor telling me, “Your cup is completely full. You need to bring that down to give yourself space and room to take things on.” But my brain didn’t know how to manage that. I wasn’t diagnosed with ADHD at the time, but I suspected I had it. I saw a productivity coach to help me. The number one thing I learned then was to break things down into small steps.

Looking at projects from a bird’s-eye view can be overwhelming. You see all the small steps that need to be done, and if you see it as one giant whole, you get stuck in a procrastination loop. You think, I’ll never achieve this, so you don’t even start. And it just sits there in the background, burning up mental space.

You don’t need to tackle the entire project today. That mindset—I should already be further along—isn’t true. What’s true is that at any point in time, even just ﬁve or ten minutes of action can move something forward. Usually, there’s resistance to starting. But by tricking yourself into starting for a small period of time, you often do more and make more progress than expected.

ALLIÉ: Yes. And I think that’s true for so many of us. It’s so easy to give other people grace, but to give ourselves that grace—to say you don’t have to do it all right now, just do this one thing right now—that’s so hard.

NICK: Exactly. Breaking things down into smaller steps helps. On days when procrastination is strongest, it becomes a game of getting close to the work. Just committing 10 or 15 minutes. Moving yourself into the environment where you usually execute. Then setting a timer. And often, you surprise yourself by doing more.

Another practice that helps: I write down everything I need to do the day prior. Just two or three minutes at night clears my head. I use Notion, and I’ll prioritize a couple things, then list others I’d like to get to. If I can’t, I move them to the next day.

NICK HARAUZ CREATIVE TECHNOLOGIST, EDUCATOR & STORYTELLER

Photo Courtesy: Nick Harauz

“The trick with distraction is to notice it.

Awareness practices help you see where your mind is going.”

ALLIÉ: I love that. There’s comfort in getting things out of your head and onto a page, where you can look at them objectively instead of trying to juggle them internally.

So, as someone who bridges story and technology, are there other tools or practices that help you give your ADHDdriven creativity rhythm instead of chaos?

NICK: Oh, rhythm instead of chaos—that’s a great phrase.

For me, it’s meditation. I don’t do it daily, but two or three times a week. I use Headspace. Even three to ﬁve minutes makes a difference.

It calms me… especially in stressful times. I discovered something from Andrew Huberman’s podcast that really resonated. Instead of guided focus meditation, there’s a practice called “open-minded meditation,” where for about 17 minutes you don’t focus on anything—you just notice where your thoughts go. For people with ADHD, it’s powerful.

Instead of ﬁghting your mind to focus, you give it permission to wander. And that permission itself becomes relaxing and productive.

ALLIÉ: That’s fascinating. Allowing yourself to just be, instead of trying to strap down your thoughts.

NICK: Exactly.

ALLIÉ: For those listening who feel ADHD is holding them back, what’s one personal truth you could share about turning distraction into direction?

NICK: The trick with distraction is to notice it. Awareness practices help you see where your mind is going. And sometimes your brain actually needs distraction—it’s a creative playground.

So, I say: give yourself dedicated times to be fully distracted. Then, balance it with noticing when distraction is taking you away from your goals. Things live better in action than in stillness. Stillness often makes ADHD symptoms worse. Action—any movement—helps.

ALLIÉ: Yes. And I relate to that. Yesterday, I had way too much to do and was so behind. So I went for a run. Moving my body was the only way to process everything and come back to center.

NICK: That’s such a good example. There are really two creative states: one is focus and action, where you’re producing; the other is the wandering state—running, showering, staring out the window—where your brain forms connections. Both are essential.

THE CREATIVE CURRENT

Exclusive Interview with Nick Harauz https://awarenow.us/podcast/the-creative-current

ALLIÉ: Yes! I always joke that I need a whiteboard in the shower, because that’s where the best ideas happen. But maybe that would defeat the purpose.

NICK: (laughs) Exactly. That nothing state—that’s where the magic happens.

ALLIÉ: I love this. It makes me want to reschedule my days and give myself more space for that balance. So, one last question: with everything you’ve learned and with your course Finding Creativity in Uncertain Times, what do you hope people take away about the link between struggle and creativity?

NICK: I think uncertainty, while uncomfortable, can actually be a strength. Some of the best art, films, and music have been born out of uncertainty. You can’t prevent it, but you can embrace it.

When you do, it not only fuels your creative work but also helps you connect more honestly with others. Because honesty is at the heart of uncertainty. Saying, I don’t know what comes next, is one of the most real things you can admit.

ALLIÉ: Yes. Honesty. Acknowledging uncertainty is honest. And when we can embrace uncertainty with honesty, that’s where creativity flourishes.

NICK: Exactly. Things can be uncertain and still be safe. Just because you can’t control it doesn’t mean it’s not okay. ∎

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TANITH HARDING DIRECTOR OF INTERNATIONAL DEVELOPMENT, THE LEGACY PROJECT, ROUNDTABLE GLOBAL

‘GLOBAL GOOD’ EXCLUSIVE COLUMN BY TANITH

HARDING

THE SPARK IN HER SERVE A

CATALYST FOR CHARACTER & CHANGE WITH NITYA LOHIYA

Nitya Lohiya is a 14 year old youth advocate, author, and founder of That Teen, empowering teens to become their best selves. She works across diplomacy, international initiatives, and leadership programs to give young people a voice in decision-making. In her third book, ‘13 Lessons I Wish Everyone Knew at 13’, Nitya shares her journey of resilience and growth, inspiring teens worldwide to embrace their potential and lead confidently.

TANITH: How did your early experiences in tennis shape how you approach challenges and personal growth today?

NITYA: I come from a community where gender inequality is everywhere — in conversations, in opportunities, even in the way people look at you. But I was raised by a grandmother and a mother who refused to let me believe that a girl’s dreams should be smaller than a boy’s. I still remember my mom walking me through a busy road full of cars to take me to the tennis academy, believing I could go beyond the box the world had built for women. That moment became a symbol for me — no matter how crowded or risky the road, if you keep walking, you’ll reach your court.

NITYA: (continued) I have been through the worst and still made it out, and that’s why I say tennis didn’t just shape me — it gave me life. It gave me the ﬁre to believe that women can do absolutely anything they set their minds to, and when they decide to, they are unstoppable. It taught me to think bigger, to speak with conviction, and to stand tall even when the world tries to shrink you. And tennis didn’t just make me stronger physically — it transformed my personality. The greatest gift it gave me was adaptability. In tennis, nothing stays the same — one moment you’re in control, the next the opponent changes their game, the wind shifts, the ball bounces differently. You can’t stop and complain; you have to accept what’s in front of you and adjust instantly. That ability to accept and adapt has become the foundation of who I am. It’s what allows me to walk into any room, face any challenge, and still ﬁnd my way forward. No matter how unpredictable the game or life gets, I carry the same mindset — that every situation can be turned into an advantage if you’re willing to see it as an opportunity instead of an obstacle.

TANITH: Stepping away from tennis due to health issues must have been difﬁcult. What helped you stay resilient and ﬁnd a new path?

NITYA: Hope. The very reason why I’m always working towards a better future. Because no matter what I lose, I refuse to lose my belief that something brighter is coming. I’ve learned that faith isn’t just about trusting—it’s about holding on when everything tells you to let go. Every time life has knocked me down, I’ve chosen to rise—not because it was easy, but because my heart knew I could. I believe that even the hardest moments are shaping me for something bigger. It’s not just about moving forward—it’s about growing forward. I’ve turned my pain into purpose, my challenges into chapters of strength. I know storms don’t last forever, but they teach you how to dance in the rain. My mindset is my greatest asset—it adapts, it accepts, it transforms. When you have hope, you stop seeing endings— you start seeing beginnings. Faith has been my compass, even when the road was invisible. I carry the belief that the best days are always ahead, never behind. Every setback I’ve faced has been a setup for a comeback. I don’t wait for light… I choose to be the light. And that’s why I’ll always keep going, no matter what.

TANITH: How do you take the skills and discipline you’ve developed and apply them to mentoring young people?

NITYA: To know your passion — to truly understand what you were made for — is one of the greatest feelings in the world. That’s why I pour every ounce of discipline, every lesson, every drop of energy I’ve gathered from my journey into creating space for young people to discover that for themselves — whether it’s through my book or my initiatives. Because empowering isn’t about telling someone who to be — it’s about giving them the room, the stage, the safety, and the encouragement to explore, to try, to fail, and to rise. When we truly know ourselves, we stop just existing… and we start creating. And there’s nothing like that moment when you see the spark in someone’s eyes — the moment they realize, this is what I was born to do. Because in that instant, you know what you’ve given them isn’t just support — it’s a spark that will ripple out into the world long after today.

TANITH: Through That Teen, you support girls and young women in discovering their potential. What drives your passion for helping others thrive?

NITYA: I love to empower people — deeply, endlessly, unapologetically — because that’s the only way forward to a brighter, braver, more beautiful future. When you lift someone up, you’re not just helping them in that moment — you’re creating a ripple effect that can inspire an entire generation. I truly believe that when you hand someone the tools to believe in themselves, you’ve given them a lifetime of victories.

Through That Teen, we’ve already brought two amazing projects to life. First, our Ambassadorship Program, where we ampliﬁed young voices from around the world and gave them the platform to speak their truth. And then, That Teen: The Movie — a docu-drama created for teens, by teens, to show the power of being someone in your own story. It’s about cherishing the journey of young people who dare to do something, to stand out, to be more. For me, it’s simple — teens don’t just need opportunities, they need the world to watch them shine. And I will keep making sure they do.

“Every challenge I’ve faced has taught me that limits are just fear’s way of drawing lines… and courage?

Courage

is the eraser.”

TANITH: What personal qualities have helped you turn obstacles into opportunities for change?

NITYA: I believe we can do anything — and when I say anything, I mean anything. My aunt always told me, “The only difference between the people you look up to and you… is that they made the work possible.” That’s been in my head forever — a constant reminder that the dreams we admire in others aren’t out of reach, they’re just waiting for us to step up. For me, it’s that mix of never letting go of hope, keeping the ﬁre alive no matter what, and refusing to believe there isn’t a way through — even when every door feels locked and the world is screaming “no.” Every challenge I’ve faced has taught me that limits are just fear’s way of drawing lines… and courage? Courage is the eraser. That’s what I carry into everything I do — knowing that every so-called obstacle is really just the beginning of a whole new stage for change. Because in the end, we just have to dare to step out — to take that ﬁrst bold move — and as my grandma says, that’s when the road appears.

TANITH: How do you hope your journey inspires young people to grow, to lead, and to create positive impact in their own communities?

NITYA: Young people are capable of anything — and I will never stop saying that. My journey is proof that age is not a limit, it’s an advantage. It means you have more years ahead to make change, more time to grow into yourself, and more chances to shape the world in ways only you can. Sometimes I think — imagine the woman I’ll be at 40 compared to the girl I am at 14… and how every choice, every risk, every moment right now is building her. I want every young person to know this: you do not have to wait for permission. You do not have to wait for the “right” time. The time is now. Your voice is powerful enough to move people. Your ideas are strong enough to shift the world. You are enough, exactly as you are, to begin. And here’s what I’ve learned: opportunities are rarely handed to you — sometimes you have to create them. Impact doesn’t start with grand gestures — it starts with one small, brave step. And leadership isn’t about being the loudest — it’s about being the one who refuses to give up. If even one young person hears my story and dares to start today — not tomorrow, not someday — then everything I’ve ever done will have been worth it. Because change doesn’t wait. It begins the moment you decide you’re ready… and the moment you dare to believe that you can. ∎

Find & follow Nitya on Instagram: @nityalohiya.ind

Also follow That Teen: @thatteenhq

TANITH

HARDING

Director of International Development, The Legacy Project, RoundTable Global www.awarenowmedia.com/tanith-harding

Tanith is leading change management through commitment to the RoundTable Global Four Global Goals of: Educational Reform, Environmental Rejuvenation, Empowerment for All & Creativity. She delivers innovative and transformational leadership and development programmes in over 30 different countries and is also lead on the international development of philanthropic programmes and projects. This includes working with a growing team of extraordinary Global Change Ambassadors and putting together the Global Youth Awards which celebrate the amazing things our young people are doing to change the world.

IRFAN PULLANI INTERNATIONAL LAWYER, PEACEBUILDER & SOCIAL IMPACT STRATEGIST

WATER, HEALTH & HUMAN RIGHTS

‘ARTICLES

BY ALEX’ EXCLUSIVE COLUMN BY ALEX TAYLOR

THE ARCHITECTURE OF PEACE

IRFAN PULLANI’S MISSION TO REIMAGINE JUSTICE ACROSS COMMUNITIES

In a world shaped by conﬂict and inequality, Irfan Pullani has chosen to dedicate his career to building bridges where others see barriers. As an international lawyer and peacebuilder, his work spans from documenting the human cost of instability in Kashmir to leading clean water initiatives in Africa and South Asia. In this conversation, he reﬂects on his journey, the projects he has led, and the vision he holds for a more just and peaceful future.

ALEX: To start, could you share about your involvement in peace-building efforts, particularly your studies at the United Nations University for Peace?

IRFAN: Inspired by the 2019 constitutional changes in Kashmir, I launched a two-year peace-building project to document the human impact of the region’s prolonged instability. I interviewed nearly 3,000 families across South Asia to capture the region’s human toll—stories of both trauma and resilience.

To deepen my understanding, I took my ﬁrst formal training in peace-building through the Global Campus of the United States Institute of Peace. After completing my legal education and a brief stint practicing at the Supreme Court of India, I pursued a master’s degree in International Law and the Settlement of Disputes at the UN-mandated University for Peace (UPEACE) in Costa Rica.

At UPEACE, I studied alongside classmates from over 50 countries and learned directly from UN diplomats, former ICJ judges, and globally recognized peace practitioners. It was an immersive, transformative experience that gave structure and vocabulary to what I had begun in Kashmir. Today, I’m working to establish the Irenology Institute—a ﬁrst-of-its-kind center in India focused on experiential peace-building through tourism, religion, and arts, combining academic rigor with community-rooted approaches.

ALEX: In your areas of focus on water, health, and human rights, what projects have you undertaken that have had a signiﬁcant societal impact?

IRFAN: I lead a $1M impact initiative with a Middle East-based health company to expand clean water access in Africa and South Asia. In Ghana and India, our pilot projects serve rural schools and communities through partnerships with NGOs and local governments. We combine infrastructure with community training, health screenings, and hygiene education to build lasting public health resilience. My previous disaster relief work in India reinforced how deeply health justice and peace-building are connected.

ALEX: What inspired you to pursue a career at the intersection of peace-building, health, and human rights?

IRFAN: Growing up in Abu Dhabi, I was raised between cultures, rooted in Kerala, India, and surrounded by global perspectives in the Gulf. This dual identity sparked my early interest in justice, inequality, and the question of “what makes a society peaceful?”

IRFAN PULLANI

INTERNATIONAL LAWYER, PEACEBUILDER & SOCIAL IMPACT STRATEGIST IN WATER, HEALTH & HUMAN RIGHTS

“At the heart of all this is a belief in the capacity of youth networks to reimagine our future, from within the communities they know best.”

IRFAN: (continued) My passion deepened through work in Kashmir and expanded with the Group of Advocates for the Right to Development (GARtD), a global network initiated by UPEACE and supported by the UN Ofﬁce of the High Commissioner for Human Rights. There, I lead efforts linking health equity and development. I also see technology as key to addressing systemic injustice, having spoken at forums like RightsCon Taipei on AI and the Right to Development. For me, peace-building is about transforming systems and how we care for one another within them.

ALEX: Looking ahead, what are your aspirations for expanding your impact in social and societal domains?

IRFAN: Over the next ﬁve years, I’m focused on scaling three core efforts. I aim to institutionalize peace research through the Irenology Institute—a space that blends academic inquiry with on-ground interventions across South Asia. At the same time, I’m expanding water-health nexus projects in more countries, especially in climate-vulnerable regions, to create an integrated public health model that can be replicated globally. I’m also laying the foundation for a South Asian Reparations Commission, inspired by the Caribbean model, to strengthen South-South solidarity and address colonial legacies through development cooperation. At the heart of all this is a belief in the capacity of youth networks to reimagine our future, from within the communities they know best.

ALEX: What advice would you give to individuals looking to make a meaningful impact in their communities?

IRFAN: I always say: “I want to believe that it’s possible.” That belief is where everything starts. Start local. Start humble. Don't wait to be perfect or fully prepared: begin with what you know and let your work grow with you. Listen more than you speak. Build with your community, not just for it. And remember that progress isn't always visible right away, but if your intention is rooted in justice and empathy, your impact will outlive the moment. ∎

ALEXANDER TAYLOR

Social Entrepreneur www.awarenowmedia.com/alexander-taylor

Alexander is a market entry consultant & professional coach currently living in Dubai. He spoke at the United Nations European Headquarters to lead their social entrepreneurship program: 1M2030. For these efforts, he received the McKinsey & Company Achievement Award, a scholarship from a Nobel Prize Family member, as was featured on NBC News. He is certiﬁed by PwC in Business Fundamentals and from the UN in Sustainable Finance. Visit his YouTube at: tinyurl.com/artemnexgen

Find & follow Irfan on Instagram: @ipullani

KEVIN HINES MENTAL HEALTH ADVOCATE, SPEAKER & AUTHOR

EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH KEVIN HINES BY ERIN MACAULEY

WELLNESS IN MOTION WHY MENTAL

HEALTH IS A DAILY PRACTICE, NOT A DESTINATION

In his new book, The Art of Wellness; How to Find, Live and Stay Mentally Fit, Kevin Hines goes deeply into himself to pour out the lessons he has learned along the way of his own mental health journey. Backed by scientific evidence, this is a book you can refer back to again and again after you have read it. The pages are filled with actionable things you can do all in the name of wellness, and he even got me started on my own path to wellness. Here we discuss this incredible book with Kevin and find out more about it.

ERIN: Kevin, thank you so much for talking with me today about your new book, which I absolutely loved. Where did you get the idea to make it a book you could return to again and again to reference and reinforce different wellness strategies?

KEVIN: Thank you, Erin, that means the world. I wanted this book to be more than just a read; I wanted it to be a living, breathing companion. My wellness has never been a “one-and-done” deal. It has been a daily, moment-bymoment practice of trial, error, falling down, and choosing to rise again. So I thought, what if I could give people a toolbox they could carry with them, something they could open up when life felt unbearable, when their brain felt heavy, or even when they just needed a spark to keep going? That is why it is written to be revisited, not shelved. Wellness is never ﬁnished. It is a lifelong journey, and I wanted the book to walk with people through every stage of it.

ERIN: What I loved about the book was how deeply personal it was as you list everything that has helped you remain well. Was it ever confronting being this open?

KEVIN: Absolutely. It was confronting, it was raw, and at times it felt like ripping open old wounds. But I believe vulnerability is our superpower. When we speak the unﬁltered truth about our struggles, we cut through discrimination and we give others permission to do the same. I don’t subscribe to this idea of mental health stigma. I believe people who have brain health issues aka mental illness are discriminated against and we need stronger language to call it what it really is. Yes, it was difﬁcult, but I refuse to live in silence. Silence almost killed me once. Openness saves me every day. If sharing my story makes even one person feel less alone, then every ounce of discomfort was worth it.

ERIN: The practices are so simple to put into your daily life, such as exercise and journaling - what would you say to someone who isn’t in the right headspace to do these things? What steps can they take for their own wellness journey to commence?

Little steps save lives.

HINES MENTAL HEALTH ADVOCATE, SPEAKER & AUTHOR

KEVIN

“I have been in the ﬁre, I have been to the edge, and this is what has helped me come back.”

KEVIN: I would tell them to start with the smallest possible step. You do not have to run a marathon. You do not have to write ten pages. Start with a breath. Start with one glass of water. Start with opening the blinds to let the sunlight in. Those tiny, seemingly insigniﬁcant choices compound over time and become momentum. If you are not in the headspace, honor that and do not shame yourself. But also remember: the smallest action you take in the right direction could be the very thing that helps shift your headspace tomorrow. Little steps save lives. It only takes 1% better a day to get to 100% in 100 days!

ERIN: How important was it for you to share your own journey throughout the pages of this book?

KEVIN: It was essential. If I left my journey out, the book would just be theory. But I wanted to show people what the science looks like when it meets real life, when it collides with crisis, and when it is used to rebuild from the ground up. My story is living proof that these practices are not just abstract ideas, they are lifelines. They kept me here. Sharing my journey was my way of saying, “I have been in the ﬁre, I have been to the edge, and this is what has helped me come back.”

ERIN: When you sent it to me I know we had a little discussion about me starting the self care tips. I started journaling, walking the dog every day and meditating. I didn’t think it was possible for change to occur within a week but it has, as I now cherish those parts of my day. Was that your hope when writing this book that people would take on your selfcare and wellness tips?

KEVIN: Erin, hearing that is everything. That is exactly what I hoped for. My dream was never just to write words on a page, it was to spark action in people’s lives. If someone picks up the book and immediately begins practicing even one wellness tool, of the hundreds featured in the book, then the ripple effect has once again begun. Your story proves that transformation does not have to take years. Sometimes it begins the very moment you choose to try. That is the hope I wanted this book to carry: that change is possible, and it can start today.

ERIN: You’ve been in the mental health space for a long time but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a book like this before. Why was it so important for you to write it?

KEVIN: Because people need practical tools now more than ever. I have spoken to millions of people, and the most common question I get is: “What do I do when I feel like I can’t go on?” This book is my answer. I could not just keep sharing my story without giving people the tangible practices that have sustained me. It was important to write it because mental wellness should not be a mystery. It should be accessible, doable, and empowering. I wanted to make sure people walked away not just inspired, but equipped.

“Do not wait for the perfect mood, the perfect time, or the perfect plan, because those do not exist. Just begin.”

ERIN: All of your wellness tips are backed by scientiﬁc evidence so it’s refreshing to see a book on wellness and all the science that backs it. Why was it so important for you to have all your knowledge backed by science?

KEVIN: Because hope and science together are unstoppable. Lived experience is powerful, but when it is supported by peer-reviewed evidence, it becomes unshakable. I did not want this to be “Kevin’s opinion.” I wanted it to be a resource people could trust, one that merges the heart with the data. Science shows us what works. My life shows you how it works. Together, they form a bridge that people can safely walk across toward their own wellness.

ERIN: Finally, what’s your message to people who are looking to start a mental wellness program?

KEVIN: My message is simple but powerful: start today, and start small. Do not wait for the perfect mood, the perfect time, or the perfect plan, because those do not exist. Just begin. Commit to one practice you can repeat daily. Over time, that one practice will expand into two, then three, and before you know it, you will have built a foundation of wellness that can weather life’s storms. And please remember this: you deserve to be here, you deserve wellness, and you are never alone in this journey. ∎

Follow Kevin on Instagram: @kevinhinesstory Get ‘The Art of Wellness: How to Find, Live, & Stay Mentally Fit’: www.awarenow.us/book/the-art-of-wellness

ERIN MACAULEY

International Director of Advocacy for #SameHere Global www.awarenowmedia.com/erin-macauley

ERIN MACAULEY is passionate about all things mental health and is a compassionate voice for those who are struggling with mental illness. Driven to help those most in need, through her vulnerable and open blogging about her own personal struggles, she lifts up others up and gives them hope.