Painting Mountains

I’m ever on the journey of reclaiming my self-trust and intuition. This past season, I took on a Jedi-level challenge of believing in myself. I wanted to manifest a new reality—one where I could get back to nature and balance, and live in a community that saw me, knew me and valued me. As many of you know, the pandemic upheaved me from a life I was just starting to flourish freely in and dropped me into the unfriendly, conservative, humidity of the deep south. I was bitter and angry about what felt like backward movement in my healing and personal growth.


Tired of “learning life’s lessons through the trials,” I decided to try to take a more active role in shifting my place in time and space. I began studying astral projection and active meditation. The work was intense and required daily practice. Once I opened my mind to these concepts, I began to see just how many possibilities lay in the creative space of infinity.


The hardest thing in manifesting a new reality was figuring out what I do want for my life. Like most, I could list off everything I didn’t enjoy about my current circumstances, but I couldn’t quite identify what I thought would make me happy instead. I turned to art. I’m not particularly good at painting or drawing, but there’s something about the way moving paint in circles feels on a blank canvas, and there’s something that slows my breathing when I draw repetitive stones into a hedge-lined fence that overrides my logical brain and dumps the answer out in front of me.



I couldn’t stop painting mountains, with a little house in the valley, and healing crystals descending over the hills, and I could not shake the feeling someone was in the corner telling me the whole story of how I inherited this land. I learned in my active meditation studies to focus on what I wanted to have happen instead of what I was afraid might happen.


This is high-level, and very hard. And my perfectionism nearly took me down