There is a rhythm to becoming—one that does not rush, one that cannot be forced. It moves through shadow, glimmers, thresholds, and light, carrying us deeper into ourselves with every step.

This is what I call The Soulful Journey.

The Soulful Journey wasn’t something I dreamed up at a desk—it was something that rose up to meet me when I needed it most.

I was standing in a season of questions. A season of shadow, of uncertainty, of searching for words that didn’t yet exist. I longed for a way to make sense of the silence, to find meaning in the waiting, to see beauty even in the ache.

If I’m being honest, when The Soulful Journey first came to me, I thought my art and my guiding work were two separate parts of my life — one playful and personal, the other purposeful and meant to serve.

But the more morning pages I wrote and art journal pages I filled, the more I began to see it: they were never separate.

Every brushstroke, every torn scrap of paper, every mark made in my journals has been part of the same unfolding. The art I make and the truths I share are simply two ways of telling the same story — my Soulful Journey, lived in color and in words.

This morning, I sat in my studio with an empty page staring back at me. For a moment, I wasn’t sure where to begin. Then I remembered—I’d just created all this juicy goodness for the launch of The Soulful Journey.

I reached for my own copy of The Soulful Journey Begins, the little mini-journal I made to help hold tender beginnings. Settling into the comfy chair with a view out the window, I pulled this prompt:

What new stories might I be ready to begin shaping now?

Then, I began to write…

I have to tell you something.
This launch… it feels different.
Tender. Wide‑eyed. Brave.
A little like stepping out onto a stage in a room where the lights are just bright enough to see the faces in the crowd — and my knees are a little wobbly.

I didn’t set out to build a body of work.
I followed a whisper.
A quiet longing I could barely name —
to feel connected again
to something true,
to honor my story instead of hiding it,
to create not just for show,
but for soul.

In every season of your life, there’s a quiet guide walking beside you.
They know your story, your struggles, your dreams.
They hold the wisdom you’ve been gathering layer by layer, brushstroke by brushstroke.

I call them the Story Keepers—soulful archetypes who help you navigate your creative journey and keep the truth of who you are alive and well.

Whether you’re standing in the shadows, gathering glimmers of light, or fully stepping into your creative radiance, there is a Story Keeper for you.
And now, you can meet yours.

There wasn’t a single moment of revelation.

No lightning bolt. No sky-splitting “aha.” Just a slow, quiet unfolding—a soft rhythm of noticing, creating, retreating, returning.

I used to think my path had to make sense in hindsight. That all the creative experiments, the shifting seasons of my life, the pauses and pivots, would eventually lead to a singular destination. A place where I could say, “Here I am. This is what I do. This is who I am.”

But the truth? That place never quite arrived.

There’s a certain kind of beauty that doesn’t shout.
It gathers slowly. Softly.
It doesn’t demand attention—it invites presence.

Lately, I’ve found myself drawn to that kind of beauty.

Not everything begins with a bang.
Sometimes, the beginning is a whisper.

A rustle in the leaves.
A half-formed sentence in the dark.
A longing that arrives before you have words for it.

If you’ve been feeling it too—the pull to slow down, to gather what’s been scattered, to return to something ancient and quietly yours—you’re not alone.