I've been thinking about connection lately. About what happens when artists become successful and somehow, somewhere along the way, the criteria for who gets access to them shifts from "does this resonate with me?" to "what's the ROI?"

I'm not calling anyone out. This isn't about a single person. It's about a pattern I keep seeing, and honestly, it's breaking my heart.

Here's the thing: our brains are literally designed for connection. Social neuroscience research has shown that the need to belong is a fundamental human motivation, so fundamental that our brains process social acceptance the same way they process other rewards. The ventral striatum (the brain's reward center) lights up when we experience genuine connection with other people. We're hardwired for this. It's not optional.

And yet...

Somewhere along the line, we decided that success means building walls. That "making it" means insulating yourself from the very people whose support got you there in the first place. The bigger the audience, the higher the barriers. The more people who want to connect with you, the more gatekeepers you install to keep them out.

I get it. I do. You can't respond to millions of emails. You can't show up to every event. There are only so many hours in a day, and fame (or even modest success) brings demands that would crush anyone who tried to meet them all. That's real, and I'm not pretending it isn't.

But here's what I keep coming back to: when did the filter change?

It used to be that artists, writers, creators... we showed up for the things that moved us. We responded to the messages that tugged at our heartstrings. We made time for the connections that felt meaningful, regardless of whether there was a check attached.

Now? The filter seems to be: will this make me money? Will this grow my brand? Will this fill seats at my own event, my own convention, my own monetized ecosystem?

Art is not a fucking dollar sign.

The research backs this up, by the way. Matthew Lieberman, a social neuroscientist at UCLA, wrote an entire book called Social: Why Our Brains Are Wired to Connect. His conclusion after years of studying the brain? Our neural architecture evolved specifically for reaching out to and interacting with others. These social adaptations are central to what makes us human. When we cut ourselves off from genuine connection, we're literally working against our own biology.

Loneliness (even the kind that comes from being surrounded by people who only want something from you) triggers the same brain regions as physical pain. The anterior cingulate cortex, which processes emotional distress, goes into overdrive. The amygdala becomes hypersensitive to social threats. The long-term effects include increased risks of depression, anxiety, and cognitive decline.

In other words: isolating yourself from real human connection doesn't just make you a worse artist. It makes you a less healthy human being.

So here's my commitment, written down so I can't take it back:

If my work ever reaches a wider audience (and that's a big if, but stay with me), I refuse to let success change what matters to me. Connection is the point. It's always been the point. If someone from my home state, from my hometown, from some tiny corner of the world reaches out and invites me to show up... and it tugs at my heartstrings... I will find a way to show up.

Not because it makes me money. Not because it grows my brand. Because that's why I make art in the first place. To connect. To make people feel less alone. To build bridges between hearts that might otherwise never find each other.

I've written about this before, about the Wounded Healer archetype. About how our scars become our superpowers. About Found Family and Radical Resilience and all the messy, beautiful ways we save each other. But here's the thing I haven't said explicitly enough:

My brand IS my humanity. And I don't ever want to let that go.

I know I'm a small fish in a big ocean. I know that talking about what I'd do with success I haven't achieved yet might sound naive or presumptuous. But I think it matters to declare your values before you're tested. It's easy to say you'd stay grounded when no one's offering you the chance to float away.

So I'm planting this flag now, while I'm still nobody special. While I still answer every email myself. While I still show up to small-town events and book clubs and coffee shops because those connections feed my soul.

If the world ever picks me up as a writer, as someone who can make a difference... I promise I will keep operating from the place I'm at right now. Gratitude, not superiority. Connection, not distance. Humanity, not brand management.

Because here's what I believe down to my bones: we don't make art to get famous. We don't build audiences to monetize them. We create because something inside us needs to reach across the impossible distance between one human consciousness and another and say, "Hey. You're not alone. I see you."

The moment that becomes about money instead of connection, you've already lost the thing that made your art matter in the first place.

I refuse to lose it. Even if the world tries to take it from me someday.