Haleakalā

In 2022, I stood at the summit of Haleakalā in Maui, 10,000 feet above the clouds.

The pandemic had paused my career, but it gave me something rare: Silence. Stillness. A chance to ask myself why my career mattered—really mattered—and what I was meant to do with it.

I looked out from the overlook and saw the sun drop below the horizon second by second, turning the sky to fire, and then fading into the deepest black I’d ever seen.

Suddenly the environment was near pitch black unencumbered by the lack of city lights, or noise. Just wind, cold air, and a vault of stars above us.

And then it happened. I heard something…

Not a thought. Not an idea.

Clear. Certain. Undeniable.

I’ll never find the words for what it felt like. But I remember exactly what He said:

And it hit like lightning. Everything I’d ever learned or gained from experience in the industry collapsed into one instant, one vision: A concert under the stars.

But not the way the world had done it. Not in a crowded park with streetlights bleeding in, or on a pop-up stage in the middle of Piedmont Park.

It had to feel like this moment. Here at the summit of Haleakalā with millions of stars like you’ve never seen before. The wonder of the universe. And then: music.

Music and the cosmos have a secret handshake. Forged by God. Written in silence and played in resonance.

They both speak without asking permission, through rhythm, design, and wonder. They remind us how small we are…and how infinite we might be.

We look up and ask:

But maybe that’s never been the real question.

Maybe what we’re really asking is:

In 1977, NASA launched Voyager 1.

A machine of science? Yes. But for humanity, it was much more. It was art. It was communication. A cosmic message in a bottle.

It was us, sharing something we created from nothing, just to say:

Hoping that one day, someone, or something might…answer.

So, what else did we send with it?

Two gold-plated, 12-inch LPs. Filled with a collection of “The Sounds of Earth and Our Music.”

Our first care package to the stars came with a free mixtape.

Why would we do that?

Because even in our most advanced moments of science and engineering, we led with beauty. We felt compelled enough to share our emotional voice and vulnerability. Without even flinching. Without even trying. We can’t help ourselves.

The part of us that wants to figure out the scientific mysteries of the universe simultaneously wants to run, dance, paint, and be creatively expressive.

That’s who this is for.

That’s who this is from.