When I was a young child, I dreamed of becoming three things: An artist, an author, and a nun. But my dreams of being anything were stolen very early. It was only later in life when I found painting did I come to know any sort of success. While others earned high school diplomas and graduated from college, my biggest accreditation came from my survival and somehow raising a child as a child myself. People would hear my story and say, “It’s incredible you’re alive and functioning!” And I would soak in that glory because that praise was literally all I had. It felt like everyone else had become somebody. They had a purpose. Drive. All I had was my life, and truthfully, I was barely hanging on.

When I began to search for Spirit, I had long surpassed any goals I ever could have set for myself as an artist. Most were shocked by my latent talent but it was oddly familiar to me. It’s like a greeting a person you always knew you would meet. A friend; an artist. An author. A nun. Finding purpose in art wasn’t easy though and I only found it inside the praise of others. I screamed for mercy at the empty sky. “Artistry alone cannot be my purpose!” That moment gifted the experience of discovery. Of psychic phenomena. Of hope. I created a new life and in it a way to combine reverence with color. It has been a beautiful journey.

I no longer see the sky as empty. I still come to it asking for help. But my body is so tired. This work is so physically taxing. One organ has already failed me and others threaten the same. I am suffering. Toxic big pharma can keep me at pace but I sacrifice my life. I poison my blood. I lose my laughter and my curiosity. I have to remind myself that this space is just a stepping stone. Always, I am just balancing on stepping stones. I am not intended to be here forever, just long enough until I am ready to move ahead.

When I sit with the feeling of my future, I see a teabag in a teacup. The supportive hands of Spirit cradling my body. The warmth of truth and reverence seeping its medicine into my blood. REAL medicine. The soul healing kind. The kind of I imagine to be running in the veins and fueling the path of an artist, an author, and a nun.

Happy full moon in Leo weekend.