HeART Medicine - Unify7 Apr 2017

I used to call myself an activist…

  I used to call myself an activist. I ran a non-profit advocating for healing and put programs into action to help further my fierce passion for a more thriving and just world. Now I call myself an artist…actually a heArtist. And low and behold the music and art that flows through me advocates for healing and helps me channel my fierce passion for a more thriving and just world  Passion can be labeled, identified,

IMG_256914 Sep 2015

Embodying the Queen

  This was the smoothest, and most graceful burn I have experienced to date, and I got to fully step into my intention of embodying my inner Queen (We called her "Queen Be"). I am feeling the shift, electrifying my energy field and its inspiring a little free flow...let's see what comes out, shall we?   The Queen in me doesn't need a Mirror on the Wall to tell her she is seen. She shows.

DSC_0141-e214 Oct 2014

Finding My HeART

Finding my HeART after years of artistic starvation. ...I started writing this blog last night and it flowed into something that feels more like an excerpt from as unedited part of The HeARTist's Way book, so thank you for being part of the raw unfoldings in real time and stay tuned for more! *** Finding my HeART   For 34 years you could say I was artistically anorexic. I was that kid in art class

purple_geode_ringExport7 Oct 2014

Embracing my Edge

A dear friend of mine gave me a beautiful reflection the other day. “You’re a little rough around the edges sometimes,” he said. In the past, maybe even last year or a few months ago I would have felt defensive and put him in the category of “people who don’t get me.” But this time I was receptive. I was open to feedback and I wanted to feel his words and where they felt true

God Tell Me Who You'll Have Me Be1 Aug 2014

Ashes to Ashes

Sometimes making love to life and living the heartist's way is about creating art in the midst of pain, discord and grief. I am going through a tough circumstance with someone in my life right now where my voice--my truth--feels cut off and denied. It’s no wonder I woke up this morning with a bad sore throat and this poem… Ashes to Ashes Gripped Tight Can’t Speak No Sound Voice Weak     Swallowed Down