Every time I hold space for one of my intuitive painting workshops I am awestruck and made mute by the power and beauty that I get to witness and participate in each and every time women and men gather to create in this profoundly sacred way.

It’s what I call the predictable miracle. The ancient dance of soul retrieval through making art. Where I get to play the role of midwife, up to my elbows in metaphorical blood and shit and fluids, tenderly coaxing the soul to reveal itself on paper with each image, each color, each brushstroke.

Each person in the studio willing to be wholly in the service of life as it flows out of the brush. In the service of trusting the life force as it truly is. Not how we think it is or think it should be. But standing naked and brave in the face of the unknown. The mystery. Willing to peek behind the veil into the undiscovered worlds that reside in our most secret heart.