Wednesday, February 5, 2020, I had the honor of having a hand in carrying my grandfather’s casket to his grave. It was a brisk day just outside of Gang Mills, New York. It had been snowing on and off that week. I wore his overcoat, cufflinks, and a pair of driving gloves he would wear when driving his Corvette in the winter. During his funeral, all I could think about were our conversations, and I attempted to identify their purpose. By the end of the day, I still had no answers. For a month and a half, I was confused and holding onto my friendship with my grandfather, and I knew one day I would need to let go.

Once COVID consumed the world and what seemed like the earth stood still, I realized I could forgive myself for every mistake I made during my lifetime. It was a moment of clarity and an ability to refresh my life. All the hours of conversations he and I had were words of wisdom and a blueprint to redefine my future. Appreciating and understanding his success and boldness would be paramount to achieving growth. I woke up every morning with the drive to be a better version of myself. I accepted that my life’s progress was not pre-defined and was at the distal ends of my hands.

Living alone made embracing this side of myself easier. It allowed me to practice spiritual reform and meditate, listen to my intuition, learn about my surroundings, and tap into the creative collection within myself. It gave me the confidence to achieve more in my life. I attacked my days mentally and physically in what felt like an 8x10 space. My thoughts became my only friend, and sometimes silence became my enemy.

The more I ventured out of my house, the more I found solace in the silence of nature. I hung up a hammock in the park to relax while indulging in a novel, took long walks through an abandoned Johns Hopkins University campus, and rode my bike down apocalyptic city streets. There was no one to be found, just my thoughts and me. As time elapsed, I felt more confident in my ability to dominate everything mentally.

By June 2020, I had a new objective: to see how many places I could travel to in twenty days. I recalled conversations with my grandfather about his time in the western United States and how it made him feel. Initially, I wanted to reconnect with him or connect with the things he understood. I was unsure what I was looking for, but I was certain I would find the answer.

On August 26, 2020, I would embark on something I had never done before. It was time to put everything I had learned about myself into action. What transcended over the next twenty days became the foundation that I stand on today. My biggest takeaway from that entire experience was acknowledging how fragile life is. From the earth we walk on to the emotions we feel when reconnecting with nature, the vastness of our world that carries so many perspectives, the values of individuals based on their environment, and understanding the varying landscapes of our country are merely a fabric intertwined by the roots of everything pure; where on the surface they seem dissimilar but are of the same DNA. Most importantly, understanding all of that can be erased at any moment.

This process has allowed me to reach the depths of my memories and convey the precious moments in my life. My passion for art, photography, and writing has given me an outlet to change my course and, in turn, apply what I have learned to inspire individuals to reach for more than the bare minimum. The things we can think and do by tapping into the innards of our minds are limitless. Project Prohairesis is a simple idea that can manifest into what you make of it. It is a work designed for your interpretation, and how you apply it to your life solely depends on how far you are willing to test yourself. Ideas are powerful, thoughts are provoking, and action lasts forever. Where do you stand?