"In the cocoon there is no idea of light at all, until we experience some longing for openness. When we begin to examine that comfortable darkness—look at it, smell it, feel it—we find it is claustrophobic. As soon as we begin to sense the possibility of fresh air, we realize that our arms and legs are being restricted. We want to stretch out and walk, dance, even jump. We realize that there is an alternative to the cocoon; we discover that we could be free from that trap. |
"Quest"
Hand dyed silk, cold wax, oil paint, gold embellishment on panel. 2015.
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Four years ago, I had never hiked a mountain, let alone travelled on my own.
Dreams I'd had since childhood: surfing, rock climbing, making music, scuba diving, playing in a rock band, going on road trips, exploring the world, learning how to throw clay, dye silk, and forge steel - I'd written all of these things off as "not for this lifetime". I had grown so accustomed to my self-imposed limitations, not realizing I could choose to rewrite the script at any moment.
Even more, the deeper dreams- the ones about speaking up, standing firm in my boundaries, claiming my confidence, owning my value, dropping the perfectionism, laying my heart out in the dating world, negotiating for the raise, taking the leadership role, believing in my ability to make a positive contribution to society- all of this, stuffed away, somewhere deep in the cocoon of familiarity. As Rinpoche would say, I was afraid of my own fear.
Eventually, the comforting, sleepy darkness of the cocoon began to suffocate me, too. And the light started inevitably filtering in.
I, too, began to taste that longing to stretch my limbs, to take that deep breath of fresh air. To dance, to shout from the top of a mountain, to know how enlivening freedom could feel.
At 28, a divorce of five years flipped my entire world inside out. It awakened a shattering feeling inside my chest, and along with it, an inexplicable pull towards exploration and adventure, particularly in the mountains.
Over the next year, the pain of rebuilding my life shook me into taking action on dreams that for so long had felt paralyzingly terrifying. And I grew to find that with each step I took into the unknown, my world became brighter. More expansive.
With a newfound resolve to exploring the depths of courage, it suddenly felt as though, for the first time in my life, I was actually living.
Dreams I'd had since childhood: surfing, rock climbing, making music, scuba diving, playing in a rock band, going on road trips, exploring the world, learning how to throw clay, dye silk, and forge steel - I'd written all of these things off as "not for this lifetime". I had grown so accustomed to my self-imposed limitations, not realizing I could choose to rewrite the script at any moment.
Even more, the deeper dreams- the ones about speaking up, standing firm in my boundaries, claiming my confidence, owning my value, dropping the perfectionism, laying my heart out in the dating world, negotiating for the raise, taking the leadership role, believing in my ability to make a positive contribution to society- all of this, stuffed away, somewhere deep in the cocoon of familiarity. As Rinpoche would say, I was afraid of my own fear.
Eventually, the comforting, sleepy darkness of the cocoon began to suffocate me, too. And the light started inevitably filtering in.
I, too, began to taste that longing to stretch my limbs, to take that deep breath of fresh air. To dance, to shout from the top of a mountain, to know how enlivening freedom could feel.
At 28, a divorce of five years flipped my entire world inside out. It awakened a shattering feeling inside my chest, and along with it, an inexplicable pull towards exploration and adventure, particularly in the mountains.
Over the next year, the pain of rebuilding my life shook me into taking action on dreams that for so long had felt paralyzingly terrifying. And I grew to find that with each step I took into the unknown, my world became brighter. More expansive.
With a newfound resolve to exploring the depths of courage, it suddenly felt as though, for the first time in my life, I was actually living.
2014: first ever day hike. Appalachian Mountains.
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2017: first solo multi-day backpacking expedition. Rocky Mountains.
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Fast forward to today: I'm taking what I've been learning from my own journey, and curating workshops and immersions for people who, like me, crave, with every cell of their being, the fresh air, sunshine, and expansiveness that lies just beyond the comfort of the cocoon.
I've learned that providing a safe container that allows for people to vulnerably and playfully explore and lean into their fears, alongside a community of other likeminded, growth-oriented individuals, can be an incredibly potent instrument for the kind of change that renews, affirms, supports, expands, and inspires. It's a framework that's proven time and time again to help ground me in my priorities; gaining clarity on what matters most, and taking action on my dreams. It's the approach I'm interested in offering those who I serve.
Below are photos and snippets of some of the adventures I've embarked on over the past few years, starting at the beginning. I share these with you in hopes they may stir or inspire something within you that in some small way that serves your growth and evolution.
I've learned that providing a safe container that allows for people to vulnerably and playfully explore and lean into their fears, alongside a community of other likeminded, growth-oriented individuals, can be an incredibly potent instrument for the kind of change that renews, affirms, supports, expands, and inspires. It's a framework that's proven time and time again to help ground me in my priorities; gaining clarity on what matters most, and taking action on my dreams. It's the approach I'm interested in offering those who I serve.
Below are photos and snippets of some of the adventures I've embarked on over the past few years, starting at the beginning. I share these with you in hopes they may stir or inspire something within you that in some small way that serves your growth and evolution.
ROCKY MOUNTAIN NATIONAL PARK
Canada's National Parks: Alberta and British Columbia
RAINIER NATIONAL PARK
COASTAL MAINE
ALASKA AND THE YUKON
This awe-inspiring, spectacularly wild state had been showing up on my vision boards for a few years. I had no idea how I'd ever be able to get out there, but I chose to stay open, trusting that somehow, some way, a door would open.
I could never have anticipated this, but the opportunity to say YES presented itself when I was forced to re-route or lose my plane ticket to Colorado. I moved quickly.
What happened in the coming months eventually led to the birth of my Kickstarter project, which I realized was just as, if not more important, than the original, far-stretched dream of visiting Alaska.
I could never have anticipated this, but the opportunity to say YES presented itself when I was forced to re-route or lose my plane ticket to Colorado. I moved quickly.
What happened in the coming months eventually led to the birth of my Kickstarter project, which I realized was just as, if not more important, than the original, far-stretched dream of visiting Alaska.
ACADIA NATIONAL PARK
My second visit to this spectacular National Park with great friends during the peak of the Perseid Meteor shower. Abundant with hiking, swimming, art-making, and laughter, our weekend retreat culminated with us waking up at 3:33 in the morning to catch the meteor shower from the summit of Cadillac Mountain. Cadillac is the highest point along the North Atlantic seaboard and the first place to view sunrise in the United States from October 7 through March 6.
NORTH CASCADES AND SAN JUAN ISLANDS
My second big adventure.
I danced and explored my heart out in Portland, OR for a few days and then drank in the coastal views on the Amtrak up to Seattle.
From there, I rented a mini cooper and drove through miles of winding roads, hugged by towering mountain peaks, to North Cascade National Park, where I explored astonishing vistas along the knife of the Pacific Crest trail.
When my home base of Winthrop, WA got evacuated due to wildfires, I found myself with brand new friends in a little Bavarian town a few hours south in Leavenworth. After cooking dinner together and bonding, we devised a spontaneous plan on the back of a napkin, setting out the following morning for a 14-hour thru-hike on the most magnificent and strenuous route I'd ever encountered: straight into the heart of The Enchantments. Our adventure included my first mountain goat and porcupine sightings!
After bidding goodbye to my new friends the next morning, I took my aching legs back to the coast for a multi-day exploration of the San Juan Islands via sea kayak camping.
I connected with a lot of local islanders on this trip, who all shared something along the lines of the idea that the San Juans have an inexplicable pull on people. I felt it. Time dissolved. I spent hours roaming the islands, marveling at the untouched nature, painting and creating art pieces with found materials.
Sitting in my kayak as a pod of orca whales charged across the horizon was the moment I realized the depth of my connection to the ocean, and particularly to the Pacific Northwest. I've made it a point to head west every year since.
I danced and explored my heart out in Portland, OR for a few days and then drank in the coastal views on the Amtrak up to Seattle.
From there, I rented a mini cooper and drove through miles of winding roads, hugged by towering mountain peaks, to North Cascade National Park, where I explored astonishing vistas along the knife of the Pacific Crest trail.
When my home base of Winthrop, WA got evacuated due to wildfires, I found myself with brand new friends in a little Bavarian town a few hours south in Leavenworth. After cooking dinner together and bonding, we devised a spontaneous plan on the back of a napkin, setting out the following morning for a 14-hour thru-hike on the most magnificent and strenuous route I'd ever encountered: straight into the heart of The Enchantments. Our adventure included my first mountain goat and porcupine sightings!
After bidding goodbye to my new friends the next morning, I took my aching legs back to the coast for a multi-day exploration of the San Juan Islands via sea kayak camping.
I connected with a lot of local islanders on this trip, who all shared something along the lines of the idea that the San Juans have an inexplicable pull on people. I felt it. Time dissolved. I spent hours roaming the islands, marveling at the untouched nature, painting and creating art pieces with found materials.
Sitting in my kayak as a pod of orca whales charged across the horizon was the moment I realized the depth of my connection to the ocean, and particularly to the Pacific Northwest. I've made it a point to head west every year since.
MY FIRST ADVENTURE: NATIONAL PARKS SOLO ROAD TRIP
My first solo adventure - a trip that changed everything.
For 3.5 weeks, I travelled on a little green bus with 35 people from all over the world.
We crawled up the Pacific Crest, headed east through the Rockies, and then down to the desert lands of the Southwest.
Before this trip, I'd never hiked a mountain, let alone set up a tent. And suddenly there I was - backpacking through seven national parks, getting my hair wet in over a dozen bodies of water, galloping horseback through the desert, even befriending my claustrophobia exploring underground lava tubes in Oregon.
This epic exploration culminated with a transformative solo day hike to the basin of the Grand Canyon and back in 110+ degree heat.
About a month after I returned, the Phoenix painting was born, and I've been returning to nature ever since as my wellspring for inspiration.
For 3.5 weeks, I travelled on a little green bus with 35 people from all over the world.
We crawled up the Pacific Crest, headed east through the Rockies, and then down to the desert lands of the Southwest.
Before this trip, I'd never hiked a mountain, let alone set up a tent. And suddenly there I was - backpacking through seven national parks, getting my hair wet in over a dozen bodies of water, galloping horseback through the desert, even befriending my claustrophobia exploring underground lava tubes in Oregon.
This epic exploration culminated with a transformative solo day hike to the basin of the Grand Canyon and back in 110+ degree heat.
About a month after I returned, the Phoenix painting was born, and I've been returning to nature ever since as my wellspring for inspiration.
