The plan was to go to art school and get a BFA in photography and creative writing.
But on a stormy, unseasonably warm September night in 1997, everything changed.
I found myself sitting in the car next to my father after he interrupted my exorcism-in-progress, an event initiated by my mother and executed by the priest she had invited into our home.
As we pulled into my grandparents driveway, I knew I would never set foot in my childhood home again. But what I didn’t know is that I was also leaving behind writing and art and music - the things that made my soul catch fire.
I searched for years for a new source of kindling but everything fell short. There were sparks, but never that flame. And I CRAVED the flame.
Somewhere along the way, my mind accepted *less than* as normal and I found myself choosing storylines for my life that didn’t align with my inner fire. I lost trust that an extraordinary life was for me. I longed for more, but I accepted less. I could feel it in my body.
Until...
Over the last few years, my practice has become into a gentle unwinding from everything I accepted as normal. Of cracking the shell that grows around a broken heart, a scared heart, an angry heart. Of suspending disbelief of my limiting beliefs to make space, once again, for art and innocence.
I breathed my way into the cosmos began to trust the universe (and myself). I dropped into the wisdom of my body and let it lead me. I made space for my full self to emerge and - all the pieces that wanted to shrink into obscurity are the pieces I nurtured and grew. I lost what I had constructed as “myself” in the so I could find myself.
First returned my connection with music.
Then photography.
And finally, I became the flame, and from me poured poetry.
It takes time and work to heal and reintegrate the pieces of you that you thought were gone forever. But it is the most worthy and rewarding personal journey you can ever embark in on.
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