Dear Sash Seabourne, Today, I stitched a page that carries both the weight of my past and the quiet, steady breath of healing. It is not a black page, though it could have been. Because this moment, this part of my story is no longer only about what was endured, but about what has lived through it. At the center, I placed a small photograph of myself as a child. A girl who “took every black and bruise in silence – till it coloured half my life.” A girl who didn’t yet have wor

I’ve quietly said yes to the #100DayProject with @dothe100dayproject on instagram. For the next 100 days I will be creating life stitched, painted, crocheted and written onto fabric pages, all wrapped in this hand sewn cover. Each day will hold a small moment. A thread. A brushstroke. A word. I’ll share daily on instagram, and each week I’ll gather the threads more fully in a journal blog post right here and a vlog over on my YouTube channel. One hundred days of showing up

Dear friends, There is a particular kind of stillness that arrives not because we choose it, but because the body insists. And so it is that across the next nine Mondays, I will be dropping a letter here about living faithfully inside complex health. For many years I have lived with symptoms I could not fully name. Fatigue that did not match my schedule. Inflammation that felt disproportionate. Moments where my mind felt clouded, as if moving through early morning fog long af

There is a kind of rest that comes only after we stop trying to deserve it. This week, as I linger in the early rooms of The Interior Castle, I am becoming more aware of how deeply I am trained to strive, even in prayer. Especially in prayer. I notice how quickly my soul wants to bring something with it. Words. Effort. Insight. Proof of progress. And yet, Saint Teresa speaks of these first rooms not as places of achievement, but of awakening. The soul is not yet flooded with

“Creativity is not just about making art or solving problems. It is a way of being…”

I have found that mindful journaling practices can be a tender bridge to that inner sanctuary. Through the delicate dance of words…”

There’s a story in this hat, a story that carries dust and wind, sun and silence. When I painted my cowboy hat with cattle tags, I didn’t set out to make a statement. I was simply following the shape of something familiar, something that had held its place in my mind for a long while. But as the layers of paint built up, I began to see what was truly asking to be seen. The cattle tags, in their bright, worn colours gathered around the hat like memories. Each one belonging s

There’s something about the red dirt ~ the way it holds the weight of footsteps and still manages to cradle life at its edges.

Out here, in the quiet stretch between paddocks and sky, stories rise from unexpected places. A water tank becomes a canvas for memory, ...

“My studio floor is a wild tangle of brushes, paint tubes, scraps of paper, and broken pastels. To anyone else, it might look like disorder”

The Power of Stillness Standing on the ground this morning, I was met with these thoughts: Stillness is not an empty room, but a...

In a world obsessed with perfection, showing up imperfectly but faithfully and mindfully has been a powerful shift. Over the last 100...

This weekend, I have a question for you: How do you refill your cup? For me, it begins simply. I light my sage and let its smoke drift...

Creative Tip: Today's journal, I'm sharing this creative tip as a gentle reminder that we can take our time with our creative processes...