Trees pointing direction 

Nourishing profoundly 

from deep deep roots



The Mystic 


Honor the untold stories

The failures the wounds

seedlings sprout from those places

Pointing west instead of east

To the oceans go 

Alive again 


I awoke this morning thinking about the last week with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Our first “art circle” in the new space. The beautiful people that came and shared a few hours with me going deeper, being brave, sharing their heart on the pages through color and images. Pages that will develop deeply over time and journal sessions. 

As I think about what I want most for this new community art space, the word connection seems to be at the top of my mind. A place to connect with our art, our heart and each other. I feel it profoundly already after just a few short weeks, and can not wait to watch it grow. 

And then my books 


my language 

my heart translator 

my healer

they began to tell the stories

 i didn’t have the courage

to put into words

they carried me to a place of quietness

where I listened to what I needed to hear 

they are part my strength

and part my weakness 

they are me 

Getting ready to host a Journal Circle with a group of amazing artists next week in the new studio space. I’m in bliss mode anticipating the work and words that will come from this beautiful journey. Working feverishly in my books the words and lessons coming swiftly out of these hands of mine. My heart is full and on fire and in love with every little thing.