The Zodiac Series

It was Christmas when I first started writing this. Like many times before, I was spending the holiday alone. The difference was that this time, I was not sad. My life felt full.

When I look back, the first half of the year almost feels insignificant compared to the second. For years, I talked about wanting to host gatherings in my apartment, but it took time to get to a place where that was even possible. The months leading up to summer were quiet but necessary. I spent the first half of the year decluttering my apartment, organizing, and letting go of years of accumulation. At one point, my living room felt more like a storage unit than a place to gather. I donated bags of clothes and sneakers, including dozens of pairs to the Atlantic City Rescue Mission, slowly making space both physically and mentally.

By the time July arrived, the apartment had shifted. It was no longer just somewhere I lived. It was somewhere that could hold people. When my birthday landed on a Friday, everything finally aligned. In true Cancer fashion, I did not want a party just for me. I wanted to celebrate my Cancer friends. I have a lot of them. That intention became the starting point.

That is when the Zodiac series was born.

The first person I shared the idea with was Katie, someone who had already expressed a shared interest in hosting and curating experiences. It felt like the right partnership from the start. Once she was on board, the idea expanded. What if we did not stop at one party? What if we committed to celebrating every zodiac sign? What if we challenged ourselves to curate twelve gatherings, one for each zodiac sign, so everyone had a moment in the year where they were centered and celebrated?

At first, I did not think it was possible without the support of a traditional venue. No bar. No kitchen staff. But somehow, we let our delusions turn into reality.

We started with Cancer. We gave it a name, a theme, and a color palette for the dress code. I transformed the space. Katie curated a signature drink. DJ Lik provided the soundtrack to our dance sessions. And we danced.

There have been doubts. There have been tears. We have poured ourselves into these gatherings. It has not been easy figuring out how to make them work with little to no budget. Every month, I question whether I can pull it off, not alone, but in my role within this shared effort. Can I execute to my standards with what we have? Somehow, we always do.

From the outside, it might look like just another party. Drinks, music, people dancing. But that is not what this is. These nights are not about getting blackout drunk or escaping life. They are about connection. About dancing, laughing, sharing food, and having real conversations about our passions, our families, and our futures.

This is a space for disruptors. For people with the courage to live outside the box. People who protest in the afternoon and show up ready to celebrate life at night. Parents, artists, event planners, veterans, students, and future leaders on the side of the people. Many of them only drink at these gatherings, if at all. They return to their lives grounded, not reckless. We come together once a month with updates, with depth, and with a shared desire to stay connected.

What continues to move me most is how the community itself has shown up. There was one party where I was not able to clean the backyard in time. While I was at work that day, a group of friends came over and cleaned it together. I remember coming home on my break and standing there, watching them, feeling emotionally overwhelmed in the best way. That moment said everything. While the core of this work may be small, the foundation is communal, and it always has been.

I think I have been so present in the planning, the execution, and the joy of these gatherings that I am only now beginning to understand the impact they are having. The gratitude people express. The connections being made. A mentor once told me that what we are doing is historical. I do not know if that is true. What I do know is that I cannot stop.

I spent my twenties in a long term relationship, and for years I neglected friendships. When I found myself single five years ago, I also found myself alone with very few people around me. Just as I was ready to put myself back out into the world, COVID hit, extending that isolation even further. For a long time, my life was work, home, studio, repeat. I spent years in my living room isolated, craving community more than romance.

Eventually, I had to ask myself what kind of life I wanted. A living room made for one, or an open space meant to hold others.

Six months later, I have a new friend group. One that expands and contracts. Artists meeting collaborators. Younger students finding guidance from older millennials. Relationships forming naturally. It feels like a tipping point, like my life will never return to what it once was.

Sometimes, all it takes is community. The way this one has shown up for me, in such a short period of time, has been nothing short of transformative.

As we move into the next six gatherings, what matters most to me is protecting this space. A space created for the communities I am a part of. A space where people feel comfortable, seen, and welcomed without explanation. I am committed to finishing this year of Zodiac Seasons with care, intention, and integrity. What comes next will reveal itself in time, but the heart of this will remain the same.

This started as a birthday. It became a rhythm. Now, it is a shared commitment to each other.