I was a quiet kid.

I usually kept to myself. Sure, I had a few friends, but I wasn’t the outgoing, talk-to-everyone type.

When my friends weren’t around, I’d play Legos and build blanket forts. I’d play basketball by myself in the driveway, creating fictional teams with made-up players. (Aristotle Jenovosi was eight feet tall and Mitch Culpit never missed a three.)

At school, I tried my best and put in the effort to get good grades. Sure, there were kids smarter than me, but I was fine with that. Because there were also kids who were better at basketball than me. And who dressed better than me. And who had more friends than me. There was always someone better at something than me.

I was not Michael Jordan. I was not Michael  Jackson. I was not Michael J. Fox. I wasn’t even Anthony Michael Hall. (Man, there were a lot of famous Michaels in the late ’80s.) I was Bryan  Michael Skavnak. (Seriously, that’s my middle  name . . . see how I did that?) And Bryan Michael Skavnak was pretty good at something else . . .

I was good at being nice. Because I was taught that way.

I was taught to respect people and be kind to them. I was taught to use manners. I was taught to smile. I was taught to open doors and lend a hand and stick up for people.

Sure, I was picked on when I was younger. Because I wasn’t cool. Or popular. Or the most outgoing. And yes, the saying may be true sometimes . . . nice guys finish last.

But I was okay with nice guys finishing last. Because I wasn’t keeping score anyway. And I thought that way not because I didn’t want to win or be good. No. It was because my parents also taught me not to compare myself to others.

One of my mom’s favorite phrases is burned into my memory: “If Michael Bolton jumped off a bridge, would you too?” Okay, it wasn’t Michael Bolton. But really, tons of famous Michaels . . . Michael Douglas, Michael Keaton. Back to the story . . .

I went through many answers to my mom’s question, depending on my age and level of sarcasm.

“No, I wouldn’t. Probably not. What’s at the bottom? Do I have a parachute? Why Michael Bolton?”

But mom was right. We don’t need to compare ourselves to other people or follow the crowd. Because we have our gift too. Each of us has something we’re really good at.

I’ve taught golf to kids for twenty-three years. I’ve been around thousands and thousands of kids. Zero of those kids are on the PGA tour. Zero of those kids are on the LPGA tour. But a whole bunch of them are nice kids. They are kind and respectful and friendly.  

They work hard. They take care of people around them. They do what’s right. (And they stay in contact with me, which is the coolest.)

Sure, it would be awesome if someone went to play on the PGA Tour. But I teach kindness first. I teach being a nice kid first. Because at the heart of it all, and after your skills and accomplishments and victories fade away . . . you still have your character.

And character matters most.

For quite some time, I had felt an underlying tug that there was something I should be doing, a path I should be taking, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it. I was looking so hard for what I felt was calling me that only by letting go of the looking and doing what I loved could I discover it was right there all along, waiting patiently for me. 

The Playground Kids developed as part of #The100DayProject, a free global art project that encourages you to explore your creativity and share on Instagram each day for 100 days. In my first post, I stated that I was going to “. . . in some way get creative every day for 100 days. My thought is that I’ll be using paint, but I’m going to treat myself kindly and allow the spirit to move me.” 

The creative piece of my life that had been my joy for so many years was urging me to play. 

In the beginning, I used the challenge as a way to show people a glimpse into what I was working on in my studio—a way to chronicle my progress. 

Things changed on day 34, when I introduced my first little friend. Day 35 brought another friend to the playground, followed by another on day 36. By day 37, I was hooked, and it was at this point that I began asking for help in naming these little sweethearts. 

The response was amazing! 

Day 100 was somewhat bittersweet. 

There was the sense of accomplishment in committing to this project and successfully completing  it, but there was also this longing for it to continue. These little loves were created from a place deep within my heart. Their innocence recalls childhood or the inner child that longs to hear inspiring words in a world that is moving so fast and has become challenging. Nothing can describe the depth of emotion I feel when I look into their eyes. They each carry a story within their little souls, and it has been my honor to bring them to life. The emotions they evoke in people have been heartwarming.

I’m an intuitively inspired artist who loves living a creative life. I have faith that art matters. It’s one way we connect, heart to heart; to feel love, to feel understood, to know we are not alone and that someone else shares our story. 

My hope is that you feel a connection with these little faces as well as the wisdom they share. It is my deepest joy to share my work with you. 

This has been a journey of life and love and freedom of discovery. A learning curve that has proven that a practice is worth every moment invested. A journey that has opened doors and will continue to do so moving forward. I have grown in so many ways as a result . . . all from the decision to be kind to myself.