Having lived in New York City for 15 years, I’ve somehow never been to the Met. Lincoln Center? Sure, countless times.
But that changed Sunday night when I went to see Jon Batiste.
Within 10 minutes of stepping onstage, he had me laughing, crying, and belting out This Little Light of Mine with nearly four thousand strangers.
Total goosebumps.
I nudged my bestie to tell her that one song did more for my nervous system than the 90-minute somatic breathwork class we took last weekend. (No offense to breathwork. Just… facts.)
Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for healing modalities. But joy?
Joy is its own medicine.
And Batiste? He’s a master of it.
He doesn’t fit a mold — he reshapes it completely.
His music bends genres.
His presence bends time.
He invents and reinvents in a way that’s electric, soul-soaked, and entirely his own.
He’s the definition of an outlier.
And standing there, clapping my hands off with the rest of the crowd, I thought:
This is what my clients do.
They re/invent.
They remix.
They take what’s worked — and are brave enough to reimagine it.
(With a little help from me.)
Because there’s that whisper (sometimes a roar) inside that says,
“This isn’t the whole story yet. There’s more.”
More truth.
More resonance.
More you.
But let’s be real: re/invention isn’t always sexy.
It’s exciting, yes.
But also terrifying.
Because you’ve built something that works.
And stepping into something new — even if it feels more aligned — can feel risky.
So we don’t bulldoze.
We build on.
You let your “little light shine” — not to put a match to your business —
but to light the path forward — toward a re/imagining.
One that better serves you — and your clients..
So here’s your reminder — from one outlier to another, with a little help from Jon Batiste:
Like Batiste, you were never meant to follow the sheet music note for note.
You’re here to write your own music.
And me?
I’m here to help you tune, arrange and remix it for maximum joy.
Because when you do?
Oh, people feel it.
They always do.
