Imagery of hands offering support in all directions has been evolving with me since the beginning of the pandemic.

As so much of the world that I knew, and the facades I identified with, began to drop away, I became inexplicably drawn to the circle and the color indigo as a means of self-soothing. Meditating on this singular shape and color was a way for me to establish a sense of certainty within myself, to feel anchored within the chaos and not-knowing that felt so overwhelming.

The circle is one of the most ancient symbols used by humanity to communicate; it was utilized long before written language came into existence. As such, connecting with the circle connects us with the very roots of our evolution as a species: a sense of deep interconnection and belonging that has been with us long before we arrived.

While the wisdom of the circle is both ancient and timeless, Carl Jung was the first westerner to observe and document how people naturally gravitate towards circular shapes during times of upheaval and transformation. He began working with the mandala as a means of understanding his own individuation as well as that of his patients.

Resting within the mandala (Sanskrit for “sacred circle) allows both the viewer and creator to access a sense of calm within chaos; it is a powerful tool of the subconscious for calling back fragmented parts, of inviting wholeness and a sense of timelessness.

Ancestral Study no 13, 7”x7” acrylic on paper. Influenced and inspired by late mentor Richard Yarde, a connection who years later is my greatest gift from my studies at Umass Amherst.

This particular image is a representation of all 1024 hands that comprise the 7 generations of the 512 people that have formed and shaped your unique genetic imprint. You exist in the center of the golden Vesica Piscis.

It is a portal into ancestry both past and future, spanning seven generations in both directions of linear time.

Working with this imagery connects the viewer with the whole of humanity and what’s known as Seven Generations principle: a sacred philosophy honored by many indigenous cultures, a vital code of ethics that is crying out to be remembered.

Something I feel isn’t discussed enough in the “follow your dreams” space is the incredible amount of trust and faith in the unknown that this path demands. These are qualities that anyone hungry enough can develop within themselves. It requires:

-an acceptance of your worthiness to dream,
-a willingness to show up for your dream,
-a fortitude for taking action on the dream no matter the approval or acceptance from others,
-and a tolerance for being square in the middle of the discomfort of having no guarantee of outcomes of the dream- simply doing something for the sake of how it feels to be connecting with that which brings you joy, meaning, or vitality.

Many days this requires an hour by hour, sometimes even breath by breath reminder as we decondition paradigms of scarcity and not-enoughness, and recondition an inner knowing and sense of aliveness.
It’s a discipline and practice that Elizabeth Gilbert says must be held both seriously and lightly. I love the paradox of this truth.
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>>>What else would you add to this list?<<< let me know in the comments.
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Links to the beautiful acrylic painting originals of Southern Spain Mountainscape and Cosmic Saraswati Peacock as seen in image above from my home art studio :)

I took this photo with our Driftwood Adventure Treks group during our descent back down the Lukla Valley from 18,500'.

I remember gazing at these mountains for hours on end, softly placing one foot in front of the other, breathing deeply and steadily; face and fingers tingling, feeling invigoratingly alive as cold, thin air was warmed by lungs. 

It was a privilege and a gift to take in the Himalayas with all of my senses. 

I promised these sacred mountains that I would do everything I could to express the sense of humility, awe, and wonder it filled me with to immerse myself in them. I remember taking this photo as a seal to that promise. 

And in that moment, something hit me: after all of the time I had invested in training for the ascent, this was the first time I was really considering the emotional and spiritual implications of the descent, the reintegration. 

Coming to this realization in the midst of such a stunning backdrop, with a heart fully open and unguarded, brought me to my knees. I remember hugging my group and letting out a cry as if it were to be echoed back from the mountains, and my fellow trekkers holding me up as my knees gave way from underneath me. It probably only lasted a few seconds, yet it felt like an entire lifetime flooded through me in this moment. . 

After spending my first four years of learning to navigate the outdoors as a lone wolf, it was here where I really began to understand how much more enriching it could be to experience the mountains in the companionship of friends across cultures, old and new. This newfound perspective of experiencing mountains seemed to echo the totality of life itself.

Following that spellbinding moment, an eagle soared overhead, blessing us with the gift of perspective and effortless grace.

My heart was set free again. 

Over the last five years, I've accumulated two suitcases full of memories; spiral-bound, 5-subject journals, dating back to September 2013, filled with stream-of consciousness observations and real-time reflections on navigating my way through the world amidst a series of life-altering transitions. 

During this time, I've grown increasingly interested in how journaling can offer insights into the ways in which memory is formed, and how interpretations of memory shape perception. 

As a starting point, I recently transcribed all of my journal entries from my spring travels to Nepal and Portugal, running the raw text through a word cloud engine to identify predominant themes in my writing. (If you aren't familiar with word clouds, the premise is that the larger a word appears in a cloud, the higher its occurrence in a block of text.)

​I was curious to identify common themes that were coming through in my stream of consciousness during my time in Nepal and Portugal as the energy was fresh, and how the themes aligned with my current memories and perceptions of these experiences. What was there to learn?

​I was also curious to examine my travel journalling from a bigger picture perspective, combining both sets of journal entries for the word cloud shared at the top of this post.

As illuminating as it was for me to synthesize hundreds of pages of travel content into a handful of ideas, this exercise generated more questions than answers:
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• Under what conditions do memory and real-time initial impressions join forces, and when do they diverge? In other words, what are the elements that shape and inform our interpretation of past experiences, and how close do our memories of an experience compare to with the actuality of the experience? Is there a difference?
  
• In what ways does time influence memory, and how does the divergence or convergence of time and memory influence our current construct of reality?
•  What are the elemental properties of memory? In other words, if memory were something tangible, what would it look like, and how would it behave? Is it malleable? What are its limitations? 
•  What causes us to block memories or repeat our mistakes? What prevents us from learning from our past? What inherent truths do we know deep down that we forget? How can our awareness of memory and perception help inform our wholeness?

​Seeking thought partners.