Reflecting on Seven Years of Storytelling Since “Walk Upon the Water”.

Seven years ago, I worked on a project that still holds a very special place in my journey as a storyteller: the music video for Randy E. Bishop’s “Walk Upon the Water.” At the time, I knew it was something special, but what I didn’t know was how profoundly it would shape my approach to storytelling in the years that followed.

The Beginning: A Story Beneath the Surface

"Walk Upon the Water" was more than just a music video; it was a spiritual and emotional experience. I remember standing on set, knowing we weren’t just filming scenes, but capturing moments that would resonate on a deeper level. At the time, I didn’t fully grasp the power of storytelling—how it can transcend words and visuals and tap into something universal, something that stirs the soul.

What I’ve learned since then is that storytelling, in its purest form, is about connection. It’s about understanding human emotion, experiences, and truth in a way that allows you to share those moments authentically. Back then, I was focused on getting the shots right and making sure we visually portrayed the beauty of the song. Today, I see that there was so much more happening behind the lens.

Embracing Vulnerability as a Storyteller

One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned in the past seven years is the power of vulnerability. In the early days, I often approached storytelling from a place of control—I wanted everything to look polished and perfect. But the more stories I told, the more I realized that perfection isn’t what resonates with people; it's vulnerability.

People connect to flaws, struggles, and the raw emotions that come from lived experiences. In the video for "Walk Upon the Water," I was just beginning to understand this. The imagery of water, a symbol of faith, trust, and surrender, was deeply moving. As I watched the footage come together, I realized we were capturing not just a story of someone enduring profound challenges, but a story of deep belief—both in the divine and in one's inner strength to find a path forward.

Real stories have imperfections. They’re messy. They have moments of doubt, fear, and uncertainty. But in that mess is where the magic happens. And this has been my focus.

Learning to Listen

One of the most important things I’ve learned in the past seven years is that storytelling isn’t just about talking—it’s about listening. When I first started, I thought that being a great storyteller meant crafting the perfect narrative. But now I understand that great storytelling begins with listening to others’ stories.

Whether I’m working with a brand or creating content for myself, listening has become central to my process. Listening allows me to uncover the deeper truths beneath the surface, the ones that aren’t always immediately obvious. When I worked on "Walk Upon the Water," I was still learning to listen to the story that wanted to be told, not just the one I had in my head.

The Shift to Visual Storytelling

Working on "Walk Upon the Water" gave me a front-row seat to the power of visuals in storytelling. The way we framed Randy walking through different settings, with the natural elements as metaphors for faith, strength, and perseverance, taught me that visuals speak volumes. Today, when I create video content, I don’t just think about the story the words are telling—I think about the story the visuals are telling.

Sometimes, a single image can evoke more emotion than a thousand words. I’ve learned that in visual storytelling, the subtleties are where the real power lies. It’s the way light hits a face, or the expression in someone’s eyes that tells the story, not just the dialogue or the voiceover.

The Evolution of My Creative Voice

Seven years is a long time, and naturally, my voice as a storyteller has evolved. I’ve learned to blend creativity with intention, and to trust my instincts. When I worked on "Walk Upon the Water," I was still finding my voice, unsure of how to navigate between what felt right artistically and what I thought others expected of me. But over time, I’ve realized that the strongest stories come from within, from trusting your gut and leaning into what feels authentic to you.

Today, I tell stories with more confidence and a deeper understanding of my creative vision. I no longer worry about fitting into a mold or meeting someone else’s expectations. I create from a place of truth, knowing that authenticity is what draws people in.

The Role of Faith in Storytelling

"Walk Upon the Water" was a story about faith, and in many ways, it marked the beginning of my journey in understanding the role faith plays in storytelling. I’m not just talking about religious faith, but faith in the story itself—faith that the story you are telling matters, faith that it will resonate with someone out there, and faith that you are the right person to tell it.

I’ve learned that every storyteller must have faith. Faith that the imperfect, the raw, the real stories are the ones that will move people. And faith that, even when you’re not sure how the story will be received, it’s worth telling anyway. Every project I’ve taken on since "Walk Upon the Water" has required me to step out in faith—to believe that what I’m creating has purpose and meaning, even if I can’t always see it right away.

Storytelling as a Journey

As I look back on the past seven years, one thing is clear: storytelling is a journey, not a destination. Working on "Walk Upon the Water" was a pivotal moment in that journey, but it was just the beginning. Since then, I’ve told many stories—each one teaching me something new, pushing me to grow, and challenging me to look at the world through different lenses.

The beauty of storytelling is that it never ends. There’s always another story to tell, another lesson to learn, another perspective to consider. As I continue to evolve as a storyteller, I carry the lessons from "Walk Upon the Water" with me, grateful for the ways it shaped me and excited for the stories yet to be told.