For years, I have been teaching how to make art journals — how to layer paper and paint, add texture, play with color, and follow your curiosity across the page.
I still love those things. The rustle of torn paper. The quiet magic of collage. The joy of making something simply because it feels good in your hands.

What if the turning point isn’t a grand decision or bold move… but a quiet moment of presence?

This week on the blog, I explore how the simple act of listening—truly listening to your inner rhythm, your soul’s pacing, your layered truth—can soften the old stories and invite in the new.
It’s not about fixing. It’s not about knowing. It’s about making space.

I Am Returning to Something True

There are moments when the path forward doesn’t feel like a grand leap or a brand new chapter.

Instead, it feels like a quiet remembering.
A soft turning inward.
A return.

A Soul Truth From the Quiet Places

Last fall, I sat at a retreat tucked away in the stillness of the season—leaves loosening, light softening. I hadn’t come with a plan, only the ache of needing space. Space from the noise. Space from the narrative. Space to listen.

Somewhere between the silent mornings and shared circles, it arrived—not with thunder, but with a whisper that felt older than me:

“I am being revealed to myself.”