I’ve been thinking about how to begin.
What to name it.
How, sometimes, the truest things ask to be built slowly - like it’s waiting for you to grow into them.
That’s what Moonpine feels like.
A name I whispered to myself for months before I told anyone.
A rhythm I couldn’t quite explain, but couldn’t let go of either.
A studio, maybe. A journal. A philosophy, if I’m being bold.
A quiet place to share what I notice when I actually slow down enough to pay attention.
And wow - what a scary place to be.
To say, “This matters to me.”
To create something not for virality or validation, but because I believe in a softer way to build.
Because I want to offer something that feels like truth, even if it’s quiet.
Even if no one claps for it.
Moonpine is that for me.
It’s a space to write slowly, to build intentionally, to resist urgency and return to presence.
It’s rooted in my lived tension - between cultures, between ambition and stillness, between the systems we’re given and the ones I want to make.
I don’t know exactly what it’s going to become.
And that scares me.
It just feels honest.
So I’m starting here:
With a page. A note. A moment.
And I’ll keep writing. Slowly. Softly. From wherever I’m standing.
If you’re building something beautiful and a little uncertain - I hope this feels like company.
Welcome to The Moonpine.
xx Jen