I’ve known since I was a shy sixth-grade kid that music was all I’ve ever wanted to do. Since I was a young teenager, music has been my passion, my escape, my therapy, my means of self-expression, and my way of reaching out and connecting with others.

Throughout my musical training, I’ve continuously pursued as much knowledge as I could about the different musical disciplines and how they are connected. Even as a young student, I resisted being restricted to one category of music, like “trumpet player,” and instead wanted to exist without those invisible boundaries and the assumptions that come with them. Even on my first day as a college student studying music, I was asked by a professor what discipline I would focus most on, I responded that I wanted it all and did not intend to choose just one.

Eventually, I realized that by allowing myself to learn more about and experience different musical fields, without fear of not belonging to a single group, my overall understanding of how music works together across disciplines has deepened and has led to far more meaningful professional development, collaborations, and personal growth. After years of reflection, I’ve come to accept that my career doesn’t have a well-defined musical category that it fits into, but that’s just fine by me!

But, as much as I wish to have come to this place much earlier, a potentially catastrophic event sped up that process.

In March of 2021, I suffered a sudden injury that required facial reconstruction surgery on most of the left side of my face. There were five separate fractures that needed to be repaired with titanium, including the entire floor below my left eye. There was also significant nerve damage that left everything below my eye numb, parts of which I still struggle with today.

The recovery and aftermath from this ordeal completely changed my approach to music making, but also created a renewed appreciation for my life as a musician. Early in my recovery, I wasn’t sure if I could play the trumpet again, but I began to embrace my different ways of music-making in ways I had never done before. I shifted my focus my conducting, composing, and even taking voice lessons. I started to play the melodica and practiced piano every day. Eventually, as I slowly re-learned to play the trumpet, I felt strangely as if I was closer to the path I was looking for than I was before the injury.

Of course, I wouldn’t recommend anyone else take this difficult off a road, but I do believe that difficult times in life lead to a profound depth that is hard to describe. My own experience has made me more grateful for my life in music and the way in which it helps me to keep moving forward.

No matter where I go or what I do, the titanium in my face will always be part of me, and I choose to be grateful for the lessons I’ve learned from the ordeal and the depth it has brought to my life.