I have written more bios that I can count.
This time, I wanted to be really true. No BS. I mean, how did this art thing come to be for me? I didn’t go to art school. I found my way here somewhat unexpectedly. So I dropped into my heart space and wrote. Here is my story. For real.
Happiness Through Art
I graduated from college, married, worked as a teacher.
Got my masters in mental health counseling.
Thought I would work forever in a school and earn a safe, reliable income.
Read The Artist’s Way.
Began making art again at age 30-something for the first time since 10th grade.
Heard my husband say he didn’t love me anymore.
Realized it was true.
And my heart broke.
And we divorced.
And I felt abandoned and angry and afraid and shamed.
And somehow, I kept making art.
I turned a blank book into a visual journal where I sat in meditation, wrote my intention, prayed, and let the art pour out of me and onto the paper. It gave me a place to hold my grief and fear about the past and my hope and excitement about the future.
My heart opened.
And sometimes I rode the waves of pain on a boat of pastels, paints, chalk and inks. It was such a bumpy ride.
I grew deeper, more spiritual, more compassionate.
Sometimes happiness can be elusive. It comes in and graces us with its presence and light, then disappears, leaving us with only shadows. That’s ok.
Happiness always returns again.
And I am still finding happiness through art.
These days I am remarried and happily living in a cute cape-cod home in upstate New York with my loving husband, my gorgeous step kids, gentle-hearted greyhound, and calico cat. We love to read spiritual books, drink green juice, travel, go on hikes, and snuggle in to watch movies and eat dark chocolate. I am so grateful for this life here; doing work I love and watching my creative dreams open up and become real.