Goodbye 2018

Oracle Card - The White Rabbit

Goodbye 2018.  You were much fucking harder than I expected you to be. You were an 11 year. I was expecting magic. And yes, that came too. But there were some brutal lessons in the finding of magic. That part I wasn’t expecting.

Sometimes to grow, you have to cut back dead wood. Prune the things that aren’t working.  And you have to replenish yourself.  I’d been starving myself of both. Danielle LaPorte talks about having a wide open heart, big fucking fence. I didn’t have a fence. I didn’t even have a line in the sand. I let everyone in. And gave them everything. 2018 taught me the value of building a fence. Of shutting the gate. Of making people earn their place at my table.  Because trying to feed everyone means YOU go hungry. And some of the people at the table are actually vultures, just waiting to pick at your bones.  To take advantage of your kind heart.  But I’m fortified now, baby.  I learned my lesson the hard way.  I seem to learn all my lessons the hard way.  And to make sure I didn’t leave the gate unlocked, the universe taught me my lessons brutally. I was was quietly walking away from people and things that weren’t working.  But the universe made sure I wouldn’t be tempted to open the gate again. The lessons were final. And I had to look long and hard at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t just about waving goodbye to those leaving, which would have been much easier.  But, in the process, I also learned to be gentler with myself. I became aware that it’s okay to not be perfect. That I’m human. That we are all here just trying to make our way as best we can. I also learned who was on my team. Who held me up while I navigated this. Who truly belonged at my table.  That was the gift amongst the chaos. And I felt my own feet on the floor, holding me up.  I wasn’t reaching for others, only to find nothing there.  These were the ropes I held onto as my bridges burned.

I had 4 words for the year – because I can never pick just one.


TRUTH was about me following what was right for me, regardless of what others were doing, thinking, believing. Knowing myself enough to know what’s was true for me, regardless of outside forces. There was a strength to it.  A sureness. A knowing. An honesty.  It was building an intimate relationship with myself.   I hope it only gets deeper now I’ve found it.

WRITE was about finishing my book, but the realisation came that I have to grow into each chapter, each paragraph, sometimes into a single word.  And that can’t be done with a time limit.  With a deadline.  That isn’t where authenticity resides.  I needed the word write – almost like a permission slip to be a writer.  To believe myself capable of doing this, even if it’s taken longer than I planned.   I didn’t write as much as I wanted to.  Planned to.  Blog posts got deleted instead of published. The marathon typing sessions didn’t happen as I’d imagined. But I continued to write my book, one post it note at a time.  Because even a single post it note is still writing.

MAKE was about making art, making videos, making things that feel good to make. I did make things. But the lesson that actually came was much deeper and more beautiful than I could’ve planned when I chose the word.  It became about making things for me, not because of external forces.  To not make carelessly; instead, to make things that matter.  And that I can make things that no one sees.   I’m so grateful that is what this word became.

RITUAL was the last word in my list of 4, and yet it became the most powerful. The most transformative.  The intention was about doing things in a way that was thoughtful, deliberate. Like making a meal being a respectful, slow pleasure.  Somehow, it became the building of my shrine. A combination of books, candles, oracle cards and symbology became a gift to myself I didn’t know I needed. Maybe choosing the word ritual means on some level, I did know. But I could never have predicted what it became.  To see the things you are so connected to, all gathered on one little desk. In the pre-dawn, surrounded by fairy lights and glowing candles – speaking to the universe, giving thanks and asking for what I need.  I became a better person because of my shrine.   Stronger.  Strong enough to build the fence I needed.  Strong enough to chose myself first.  Strong enough that others behaviour no longer dictated how I felt about myself.  I learned to chose to be on my own team.

Thank you 2018.  For your lessons, brutal as they were.  For your growth, growth I didn’t know I was missing but was so deeply nourishing.  For letting my kindreds shine in the dark when I needed them.  And for teaching me I am the hero of this story.


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Sometimes, when things are changing; when you need courage –  you need something to hold on to.  Something to give you the strength you aren’t sure you can muster.  For me, it’s an anthem.

I was once sitting at traffic lights, rocking my little heart out and a car full of 20 year old surfer guys edged forward.  It was enough to catch my eye and as I looked over, all of them started busting out some moves, imitating me.  I was officially dying of embarrassment and literally had no where to go.  I swear, that light took forever to change.  Seriously… forever. 

So that gives you an idea of how much I love a good car concert.  I’m Beyonce when I’m in the car all by myself. (Aren’t we all?)  You know what it’s like.  The right song can make you feel things and take you places.  It can take you straight back to high school, to your first crush, to break ups.  To road trips, to birthdays, to big transitions.  It can make you cry or make you feel invincible.   And right now… I’m craving invincible. 

Anhems to conquer

2018 was very transformative for me and 2019 is continuing to make me expand in so many ways already.  Everything is ramped up to 11.  Everything is so intense.  And while it is taking me to places I’m excited to go, I know I have to walk it alone.  And that’s the part that’s daunting.  Because I know how big this is.  Walking a barely lit path into the forest.  Swimming out into the deep.  I know my kindreds can’t come with me.  Not for what I’m embarking on.  And so, I have turned to my anthems.

What would Star Wars be, without THAT music.  Rocky without Eye of the Tiger ( or THAT episode of Supernatural).  When there is an epic tale, there is always epic music to go with it.  I think personal anthems can come and go. When they lose their power, you gotta change them out.   Don’t keep them for sentimentality.  This is not the place or time for that. 

My current anthems are Kesha – Learn To Let Go.  She wrote it about her contract court case.  Where her manager was abusing her and refused to cancel her contract, insisting she continue to meet her obligations which also allowed him to continue to abuse her.  It’s about not holding on to damage inflicted by others.  Banishing your demons.  If I’m walking into this new territory, I can’t be dragging my past behind me.  Trust me, that’s a shit tonne of baggage I can’t be bringing with me. I will wear my battle scars with pride, but the wounds cannot be left open.  Strength vs destruction. 

Shawn Mendes – In My Blood.  The drum beat in this is the call of the warrior.  Building as the song goes.  I am a rock god and a percussion expert when this one is on.  But the words – sometimes I feel like giving up, but I just can’t.  It isn’t in my blood.  Can I get an amen?!  Because sometimes this path I’m walking feels too big for me.  

Claire Bowditch – Amazing Life.  I saw her sing this live a year or so ago.  No recording comes close to how she sounds in person.  And she is a storyteller – you know how much I’m totally digging that.  The story she told that brought her to this song was a call to the lost.  Especially if you are in a day job that just doesn’t fit. (oh hello there…)  You don’t have to be just one thing… but you have to start with something.

Anthem for finding your passion

My latest love is New Romantics by Taylor Swift.  Because I could build a castle, out of all the bricks they threw at me.  Oh my god yes. Yes Yes Yes.  Every day is like a battle.  The best people in life are free. So many ways to interpret this.  And each one has meaning that I’m feeling so deeply right now. 

There are other anthems coming along with me too – the anthem playlist is ever growing. Because maybe I don’t just need an anthem. For something this important; this raw and honest and deep – a whole playlist in my holster may be what I need. One song can only take me so far.  The right songs make me believe I’m invincible. Like I have my warrior armour on and I’m coming for everything I want.  Because this part of my life is becoming my time.  I’m no longer sitting on the sidelines cheering for others.  Lifting others up then being left behind.  Cowering while others claim their space.  Now, I’m on this one person mission.  And I need music I feel down to my bones to drive me there.  Yes, I’m coming. 


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Not This

Elizabeth Gilbert has a Facebook post titled – Not This

It’s about not knowing what you want or what you should be doing other than NOT THIS.

Danielle LaPorte, my other wise woman has recently talked about burning down the barn to the studs. To it’s foundations. Sometimes you have to do that, even in the midst of NOT THIS.

I go out to dinner with a couple of my dear Artsistas.  Over shared pizza, we discover we are all feeling NOT THIS.  What once served us well, no longer fits.  Things don’t feel like we thought they would once we got there. We feel lost and everything feels like NOT THIS.  For me, it’s changing the way I draw. I’m feeling called to more raw life drawing, strong warrior women figures, using my personal symbology more boldly. And bringing my writing, my storytelling, into my artwork more. Because what I am making now is my past.  And my past has become achingly NOT THIS.

We talk about all the ways NOT THIS is repeating for us. Sometimes over and over.  The universe needs to repeat it to us, to make sure we are learning the lesson.  Continually turning us away from the wrong thing.

As we wander back to the dim lights of the car park, we continue to talk about it.  We begin to see ways out. Directions to turn towards.  Ways to let go instead of holding on.  How our history has shown us NOT THIS before. We know what NOT THIS feels like.  And we know you have to move through NOT THIS regardless of how hard it is, to get to OH YES, THIS.

It’s 10 o’clock on a work night. I’m standing in a car park, cold but not wanting to end the conversation.  It will be 11 o’clock before I crawl into bed. But I don’t care.  I don’t get to see these girls often enough, because… Life.   But when I do, I am reminded why they are my kindreds.  My cup feels full to overflowing and the feeling lasts for days and weeks afterwards.  They give me direction when I feel lost.  I laugh with them. Because of them. That soulful “laughing through the hard stuff” kind of laugh.  The “did you just say that” laugh.  The “I hope the next table didn’t hear that” laugh.  They are wise and funny and generous. And I couldn’t do this whole art & writing thing without them.  Not just these girls. There are others too.  That’s hard for me to admit. To say out loud. I’ve been an independent girl since childhood.  I had to be.  It’s hard for me to let people in.  But, I know walking deeper into the forest would be so much harder without them.  Even though I have to walk into the forest alone.   Because NOT THIS, is a quiet reckoning you have to have on your own.  But being surrounded by the right people can arm you with a sword and shield as you walk into the battle.

I feel creatively braver because of them. I feel willingly vulnerable in front of them.  I grow a little more as a person each time I see them. Each time I message them.  They are my people. They are my kindreds.

If you are on this creative path and are trying to walk deeper into the forest; to swim out into the deep – do anything you can find them. Your kindreds.  They can’t walk the path with you, but they can help you become the person you will need to be.  They can help you see the light at the end of NOT THIS.

Coral xo


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Sketchbox Unboxing February 2018

My Artsista and creature conjurer Laurie from My Little Creatures gifted me a three month subscription to Sketchbox for my birthday.   Yes, she got me three months of birthday presents!  Now you know why I love her so much.  Sketchbox is a surprise box of supplies that magically show up on your doorstep.  And she got me the premium boxes which means full size products.

It took me a little while to even get into the box.  I’m not gifted at opening packaging. I’m more of a rip tear bust kinda girl. But I managed to get into it eventually. It was my first box, so I got excited about everything.  Even the marketing material!

I’ve got two more boxes coming my way. I’ll share those with you too.

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The Shrine of Creativity

Art creativity shrineThe vague idea of a shrine has been haunting me for a little while.  Some of my art SHeroes have them – next to their workspace, throughout their house, as part of their classes.  It feels like something I need to surround myself with.  Not because it’s something pretty other people do.  It has begun to feel important.  Like an element I’ve been missing.   Like something I need to gather as I walk deeper into the forest.  As I swim out into the deep.

I consider dowel and branches and hoola hoops – to hover overhead as I work.  Symbology and lights hanging down, casting their light over me.   I search on Pinterest for Shrines.  Many are based around Wicca and tarot.  Some call to me, some are dark.  Too dark.  But none of them are what I am imagining.  I am going to have to make this up as I go along.  Maybe that’s the best way to make a shrine?

I decide to use the writing table I never use for writing.  It sits next to my  art table, part of my creative space and yet it’s been ignored.  Holding space for my writing.  But I never write there.  Instead, I sit on the floor against the lounge, wedged between the entertainment unit and the coffee table.  But somehow, that’s what works for me.  That is where I write.

Art creativity shrineI begin awkwardly, painting a dowel and adding hanging brackets over my inspiration boards.  I clear the table, wiping away the dust of neglect and begin to add elements.   I go to bed the first night, thinking my shrine is totally lame.  That I’m no good at this.  That other people make it look so easy and mine looked so empty.  There is no soul, no connection to what is sitting there.  It just sits on the table looking back at me, a little bewildered it has been moved there.  But I wake up the next morning, remembering the elements I wanted to add.  I realize what I have in my art room, hiding on shelves.

Books by art SHeros, books about walking my own path, books open to pages that speak to me.  Truthbomb Cards by Danielle LaPorte and Journalling Cards by Orly Avineri – my version of creative tarot.  Candles gifted to me by friends and bell fairy lights – lighting my way, illuminating my path.  Personal symbology scattered through it.  Original art from art idols.

Art creativity shrineAnd in the end, it becomes a truthful honouring of my creativity.   Each element is so very me.  It’s scary how powerful it feels.  Like genuine magic.  Like I’ve let out the genie, but I am scared to make my 3 wishes.  I stay away from the room for a day, like I’m overwhelmed with the energy.

I may change it, so it stays the powerful talisman it feels like now.  So it doesn’t become stale.  I may change it with the seasons.  But for now, I wait.  For how the powerful conjouring seeps into my creativity.  For where it will lead me.  For who I become and who I leave behind.

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Retreating into autum

Retreating into AutumnAutumn is my season.  When the weather cools, I retreat.  Into what feels like home.  Into myself.  Warm clothes, snuggling under blankets, sleeping in.  It has become my time to look at my year so far, and to look at myself. Who I am. How I feel about my external world and inner self.  It’s much less brutal than new year resolutions. That time of year feels like looking at all your faults.  Like you are broken and need fixing.

But Autumn… Autumn is about reflection and growth.  About finding clarity and shedding what no longer serves me.  Letting my leaves fall, exposing my branches.  Exposing myself to the bones.  To my deepest truths when everything else is stripped away.

For me, the stripping away has been simple things like clearing clutter from my house.  Old clothes.  Things that haven’t moved from their place in the cupboard for years. Things covered in dust.  Moving boxes never opened again.  Art supplies I never use.  It’s also about people.

In the last year, I’ve begun to learn about self care.  About putting myself first, not last.  That my choices, my wants, are as important as others.  Understanding the desperate need to be protective of who I allow into my space and how I let people effect me.  How easily wounded I am by other people, regardless of my feelings towards them.  For a long time,  wanting to be liked (because we all want to be liked) was so important, I didn’t even consider if I liked them. If they were really my people.  The need for friends has transformed into feeling fiercely protective of myself.  Danielle LaPorte talks about having a wide open heart, but a big f*cking fence.  My fence has been easily pushed through in the past.  But now, I’m fortified baby.

I’ve begun cleaning out social media accounts.  Unfollowing, unfriending.  If you aren’t part of my close inner circle – gone.  If it doesn’t make my heart soar just seeing the word, the name – gone.  The idea of keeping your circle small has become a necessity for me.  The online clutter has been distracting me from what’s important.  It’s been clouding my priorities and has dragged me badly off track.  Pinterest does not = being creative.  What it really is, is hiding.  Hiding from the work I need to do.  Hiding from making ugly art but in the process, I deny myself from the breakthrough I’m desperately craving.

My Autumn is going to be especially reflective this year. I’m feeling aware of my mortality in a different way than I ever have before.   I’ve been holding myself back for a long time. Because of wounds inflicted by others.  Because I haven’t truly known myself.  I thought I did but I am discovering it was only in the shallowest of ways.  By flooding myself with outside influences, I was drowning out what I needed.  What was calling to me.

Looking at your mortality, at the ridiculousness of playing small, makes you look at things differently. I’m only just starting to comprehend the impact of it all.  And I don’t like what I’m beginning to see.  How did I let myself be pulled so far away from my truth.  From my path into the forest.  How did I become so lost?

And so, the retreat of Autumn begins.  I don’t know if it will extend into winter? It might.  Maybe it needs to.

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The Do Over

I’ve been hearing the calling to write and that includes coming back home.  To my word haven.  To my blog.

I look back on previous posts, remembering I never wanted to write like “the cat in the hat”. But I can feel there was something missing. I was still holding words back. Hiding.  Finding my way. Finding my voice.  A way to put my melodramatic heart on the page.

But, in the last 12 months, I have been compelled to say out loud…


After reading Susannah Conway’s book “This I Know” and the posts that accompany the artwork of Orly Avineri and Erin Faith Allen, I know I can no longer hide.  I can no longer dabble in the shallows.  Speaking barely above a whisper for fear of being denied my space at the table.

And so, I will start over.  With brutal truths. With raw words so deeply bound in truth they take my breath away.  This is my space. I am declaring it.  I want to document the wholeness of my universe.

I am craving swimming out into the deep and diving under. More so than ever.

My art is aching for change.  For rawness.  Truth.  Realism.  For a brutality that I have no idea how to conjur.

My book, abandoned in doubt, is calling me back.  Demanding I finish what I started.  Telling me this is more important than I can understand right now.  That its a part of my unfolding.

My words and thoughts here are forever changed.  I hope you visit here and are forever changed too.

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Art is You Qld – Day 2

Sallianne, our cheerleader of the weekend is discussing being bold and fearless this morning and encourages us to do this in our everyday as well as in our classes.  I know how it feels to hide in my comfort zone and in what’s familiar.  She’s right and I know I need to dig into this more.

“The mane is the main thing”

What the what?  Only something you could hear in a DeMeng class for the Cowardly Lion.  When I came home with my two plastic lions and asked my husband to cut their heads off – he wasn’t disturbed at all.  Instead, his reply was simply “I know whose class this is for”.

Art is You - Michael DeMeng classIn class, I fight with those damn lion heads for a while, trying different things to get them to come together.  Masking tape – Nope.  What about clay – nope. Okay, glue -nope.   Eventually, Michael gets hardcore and just drills their heads which I fiercely wire together.

It reminds me there are many ways to get to your end goal.

And sometimes it takes a few tries to get there.

In art and in life.

I only do assemblage when I’m in Michael’s classes.  We talk about this and he points out that I use a lot of the techniques in my art journal and the click happens.  It all starts to fall into place.  Like the last number in a combination lock.

One of the most beautiful things about the classes here, isn’t the classes.  Its hearing about the evolution of the teachers as artists, their ideas on art and creativity, the moments you get to share with them one on one.

Michael DeMeng Art Is YouI spoke to Michael about things I had carried with me from his previous classes.  How a two day class with him about 7 years ago was so worth it because of the 1 sentence I took away from it.  Yes 1 sentence.  1 art changing sentence. Because classes aren’t just about the techniques or the project you do on the day.

Sometimes it’s one moment in the whole day that changes you.

The way you think about art or the direction you go in.  It expands your thinking and you can never go back.   We talk about how much I’ve grown and changed as an artist since our last class at AIY two years ago and I feel seen and heard.  The teachers are like that here.

At night, I do a mini class with Kecia.  I’m not sure about this one because we are using products I’ve never used before.  But the end result looks awesome, so I’m being brave.  Bold and fearless as Sallianne encouraged us in the morning.

We make our own moulds and cast resin.  My mind is blown.  My art sister sitting next to me is buzzing about all the things we can do with this.  We decide we have a new obsession and wonder how we can get the next 2 months off from our day jobs to complete all the projects we are dreaming up.

Kecia is soldiering on through a cold and dealing with a class of over tired students.  We are like 5 year olds who have just had a red cordial.  In this moment, she is more of a wrangler than a teacher.

I tumble into bed, exhausted in the best way.  Desperate for sleep but my mind full of a million possibilities…  I drift blissfully between asleep and awake.


Did you miss my wrap up of day 1?  Read about it here.



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Art Is You Qld – Day 1

Andrea class 2016I booked Art Is You over 6 months ago.  And I had been gathering supplies for my classes for the last 2 months.  Finally –  it was time to dive into the adventure.

As I walked through the corridor, I saw Sallianne the Energizer bunny organizer of this event and her right hand gal Linda who was soldiering on through a cold. Oh those beautiful smiling faces.

I was greeted with joy in their voices and a little bit of sassy teasing.  The kind that makes you feel loved.

As I checked in, I saw 2 girls I became friends with at the last AIY.  Hugs and excited giggles follow and I am reminded of the un-advertised elements of AIY.   The connections and friendships it fosters.   The safe place we are in, where we can step into our creative courage and let the everyday fall away.

We aren’t mothers, wives or day job girls anymore.

I say hello to a girl looking a little lost.  She’s here for the first time and is on her own.  I ask her what classes she is doing (the obvious but perfect AIY conversation starter) and introduce her to a friend.  Before long her nerves give way to laughter.  I hope she makes the kind of friendships I have here.

As I wander around the room, I catch up with my Art Sisters.  My cheerleading girl squad. I renew connections with girls I’ve met before and we all instantly feel like long lost cousins at a family reunion.

We begin our classes by ascending the swirling staircase.  Teachers and fellow students helping carry each others supplies up the stairs. No pushing, no rushing.  Just gentle giggles and nervous banter.  Gosh I love the vibe here.  Why can’t it be like this in real life?  The world would be a much better place for it.

Andrea 2016

I’m in Andrea Matus DeMeng’s class today.  Photos do not do her work justice. They are drowning in colour and depth and symbology.  Andrea is a beautiful gentle soul.  Her voice is very calming and zen but she also makes us giggle at our nerves as she pushes us through our comfort zones. She calls it ‘pushing us to our edges’.  By the end of the day we are all exhaustedly happy and tiredly glowing.  I am in love with what I’ve made and jealous of what the others have made at the same time.  And I’m in awe of Andrea as a teacher. This quietly spoken soul has broken her work down into achievable steps.  She has pre-empted our fears and voiced them before we could. Reassuring us ‘we got this’. She helped students all at different levels of experience, all making very different pieces navigate our ‘stuck’ moments.  Our ‘mine sucks’ moments. The ‘I don’t get it’ moments.  She navigated it all, floating through the group quietly offering her art theory, explanations and guidance.  She shares some beautiful words with me about my work and it fills my heart to overflowing.  It is such a generous gift from her and I am teary with gratitude.

At night there is more catching up at the art trunk.  Attendees laying their creative heart out on little tables, for sale.

We mingle, catching up on what we made in class that day, discussing art with those bravely selling their pieces.

My night closes with 6 of us scattered around a friends room, sitting on the floor, on kitchen chairs, on a couch and a fold out bed.  We are eating cheap pizza, making fun of “The Batchelor” and telling stories.  I laughed until my sides hurt.

And I am reminded, sometimes it’s not the classes that create the best memories but the friendships.

I fall into bed, tired but with a heart overflowing from a day of creative living and dear treasured friendships. At the dawn of day two, I giggle in the dark, thinking of our conversations last night.  I heart these moments and these girls so hard.


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The shift.

Wild Girl1I’m calling it The Shift.

I haven’t blogged for most of the year but I have been art journalling…  And while each page has been an adventure in learning and I’ve been growing, I also know something has been missing.   I’ve felt it for a long time but couldn’t put it into words. It was feeling first level.  Like I was floating on the surface of a lake, right near the shore.

But I’m craving swimming out to the deep and diving under.

Swimming deep with the beams of sunlight illuminating my way.  Wrapping myself around the roots of submerged branches.  Seeing if I can hold my breath long enough to touch the bottom.

Wild Girl5I’ve craved having my own style and personal symbology from the first moment I fell back into creativity as an adult.  But the craving has turned into an ache in the last year or so. I’ve been working really hard to figure out what that means for me.  The fog of confusion and searching and longing has begun to make way for clarity and depth and connection to my creative mind.  The hurt and jealousy of art friends who had already found their signature style has made way for feeling like I am part of a connected sisterhood.  That we are all exploring the same path, seeking and making in an authentic way.  Once you get even a tiny glimpse of it; of your work feeling bound in truth; you can’t go back.

I can’t just make pretty things anymore.

Wild Girl3As this started to happen, other things began to happen too.  The distractions began to disappear. I know what media I want to play with, so I no longer crowd my art space with the latest products that never get opened.  I’m not distracted by the latest online class all my friends are taking.  I don’t replicate popular images because I can hear my inner voice saying that is not who I am.  And I am pulling away from my teachers to go exploring.  To explore all the things that are calling to me.  Suddenly  there are so many things calling to me.  And every one of them feel so true to who I am.

And all this has tumbled over into the rest of my life too. Trivial friendships and acquaintances have been allowed to just fall away. I have stripped back my social media  so only the “oh yes” images and people remain.  My day job has become a momentary distraction until I can come back to my truth.  I am choosing making and writing over vacuous TV.  I am putting myself and what I want first instead of last.  I’m practicing bravery to step out of my comfort zone for amazing soul fulfilling experiences.

All this from taking a step out into the deep end of creativity.

Wild Girl4It can be scary to go on this adventure.  What if I don’t find what I’m looking for?  What if it’s not out there?  What if it doesn’t exist?  But what I found was so much more than I could have expected.  It is soul fulfilling to the point I feel like I am overflowing.  I am feeling pure bliss so often I think I might be glowing some days.  I feel like I am finding a deeper meaning.  To art, yes.  But also to creative living in the every day.  To how I spend my time.  To what I let be of importance. That is such a special lesson that has come from this.  One I really needed.

I couldn’t have possibly imagined all this beautiful unfolding when I first began to swim out into the deep.  When I chose to dive under.

Here’s to bravery.  To having the courage to dive deep.  And to the unfolding that comes from it.

Coral. XO

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