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Satire Vs. Empire

OPINIONS vs Onions

Edit: Upon further introspection, I realized that one of my favorite quote applies here.

“Often, unsung heroes go unheard” -Anonymous.

It takes a lot to remember the heroes that came before. Helping, healing and the time it takes in between breathe and pause. If one thing helps you, I sincerely hope you find it.

On a day when I was angry, I wrote based on my opinions- which some times I act like they are from only banana-muffins but in actuality they have been in my gears/grain for a long time. I am only now just becoming brave enough to talk about it in a way that feels good. So, I am writing on behalf of myself and delicious banana muffins. For me, standing by an opinion means writing, speaking, reading and watching my favourite Kung-Fu movie with the one-person I love most in the world. One day, I can introduce you to him dear reader. For now though, he has my whole heart and I’d have to paint that accurately first-aha.

p.s All the trigger warnings. Emotionally processing my own relating to the world. I am very weird vs. wise. #humanbeing

Truth is... I don't know EVERYTHING.
 Trust is... We all learn to figure it out.



Go stare at a Rembrandt for a bit. Or a couple thousand Bernini’s. Those are masterful.

Note: These are my original pieces of artwork.
I made this because I am great at LOTS.
I also have weird brain stuff. 


My brain and I get  nervous because I know … you know… I am a mortal being… My heart is very adamant that I am here to stay though- which is sweet in a corny forever-love kind of way.

Legacy is how people tell you they accomplished their greatest feature of being themselves when it WAS “Ugly Cry Time”

It used to look like this.


FACTZ! Are “Truthy” at Best

At worst, they are me without coffee and no sleep.

I do act like I have my life all figured out though.

*someone please cue up dramatic music*

Why thank you, I feel much better now.

Yet,  I have probably rambled in every appointment, voicemail and phonecall; of perhaps my life. Yes, even the important ones.

Even when I am at my best, I am a bit of an outlier in terms of clear thinking. It seems to take me forever to process my own insecurities. Also, I am stubborn and get bored easily. Thank goodness for art.

Truth is none of us get to see behind the curtain of the people who work tirelessly to get to what they need for help. Actually, I think some people do weirdly enough.

Those are the “miracles”  that I forget to tell… or I am not ready to talk about yet. In many ways, I am learning to fight my own battles. In others, I am learning to ask for help. I am moving forward but I don’t always think that is the same process for people. I know I process… by being… myself? Let’s move on from the metaphysical imperatives of that situation though.



#myself  #radHonest
People are not puzzles.                            “oh hey, I’m not perfect!” “

Above and beyond, those are the things that really scare me. I tried once to write down all my fears and get rid of them by crying into a pillow like a princess. You know what, it was not the solution for me. I’ve tried the working out and being a warrior all day everyday- still a bit of a sensitive. Hence, I am going to keep working on myself and loving the people in my life as best I can.

Basically, I  forget that I am a flawed human being who loves people rather profoundly… and I am my own worst critic. These are the elements that keep me in a loop of sanity.


I know my team.
I know who I love.
I know who I am. Those are the stories I can’t help but remember.

I imagine them like vines, filligree, leaves and every person who has worked their hardest that came before me.

This method is a tad overcomplicated but very beautiful in the right lighting. These intricate details are usually the significant markers of someone who was doing what they really loved. I wonder about those people, I think they must have mastered their life if they really made some thing of that magnitude.

I don’t always get to see the people who have worked the hardest. Nor do I get to hear them.

I know that they exist. The speak loud, they love hard and they know to the core of their being that they are bright.

My life now is so removed from what it once was I tend to forget I am safe and happy now… I know that might sound weird but it is really true.

I forget how much work goes into being that for other people. It might make me selfish at times but you know what, if I can become the one person who lifts someone else up even if it’s for those precious 5-seconds. I am there.

Note: You can’t impose your suggestions on how people move, groove and get on with their life. People are also not Sims like they are not puzzles.

The fable in my head is the whole moral of: It’s not BECAUSE we are human that we are flawed.

It is about knowing how hard it was for someone to love you so dearly to get up and do what they loved most in times of struggle.

It is the fully appreciating how TRULY and deeply someone worked to lift their love up.

Also, about choosing their own HEART.

Basically, it’s every silly love song AND batch of cookies. When I hear people singing their favourites, I hear every ounce of gumption, grit and determination it took to bring someone your favourite dinner. When I hear effort, I hear every grandma and grandpa knowing that their kids are doing their best.

There is the self-discovery nugget people.

  • I am a cry baby at 25 years old.
  • I have also worked really hard to earn my skills.
  • I don’tknow how to label them yet… but I know I love my people.
  • I know if you asked I could find a way in time on how to say it.

I might not be the best. I am going to DO my best though- that counts for all of us.

You know that I will work, play and move forward in my own way. I will love my people.

If I took a shower, survived and I am now thriving. I want to be the one to help people.

I am my own number 1 person.

I don’t need to label or sticker.

I don’t need to understand anything past that.

I need to know that I am the one I love. Even though, loving someone like me takes a team of people at times.

Who is your team!? What do you do to lift yourself up?

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The Depths of Love and Depression

Depression is a real experience. I can entertain for a while that  it is a symptom of something larger than ourselves- moderns day society, the planets and/or genetics

Regardless of the cause,  it is real and has physical/social  consequences.

TW Personal experience with depression/C-PTSD/ADHD a touch of Ableism because I think the way I describe my experience with depression is problematic. 

Now, there is a part of me that wants to launch in an intellectual  dissection of the ramifications of spirituality (pseudo or otherwise) contributing to the stigma of mental health. Maybe another time though?

This post is a positive one even though it is vulnerable.

I want to introduce to you my reemergence from a depressive episode as captured by this piece. I ran a Title contest for this piece over on my Facebook page  and the community generously delivered the name as “The Depths of Love”. I took the liberty of adding the Depression bit 😉


The entries included:

  • “Dharma”
  • “Soul Searching”
  • ” Offering To Myself”
  • “Self-Care”
  • “Depths of Love”

and a few others.

What I find cool and curious about this piece is the similarities of this piece to the actual PET Scan. I am a firm believer that your inner compass KNOWS a lot and sometimes I wonder if I appreciate just how much.

My experience with depression feels cold. It is a deep rest where I freeze. My passions, my laughter, my need for food or social interaction crumble. It is an implosion of listless hours where I can’t cry or really feel all that much. This has lead in the past to what is deemed as “thrill seeking behaviour”. I had the habit of venturing to the arenas of danger, harm or adventure seeking to feel. I have worked with several counsellors and psychiatrist over the years as this behaviour can be extremely maladaptive. I am so deeply grateful for the medical community even though sometimes they can be invalidating, inaccessible and frustrating.

To me, having a diagnosis is a great tool- just like movement, spirituality or creative outlets. It helps me communicate my experience to others in a way that is generally well understood. It gives me words to chip my way of the cinderblock that is my mind trap.

To me, this piece is very much a reminder of my own love… for my smallest most fragile self and my biggest/brightest and baddest Self. Both of these inner aspects get me through EVERYTHING life throws at me. I have so much faith in myself because of BOTH of them.

I used Van Gogh’s “A Starry Night”, as inspiration to capture the movement in this piece. I wanted it to convey that ever tender reaching out to loved ones- to the shine, to the sparkles, to nourishment and out of the frigidness. I usually have remember a kay aspect of myself, or have been humbled and awestruck by the many people who still choose to be around me.  I am thankful for the elements of myself that bring me to experience nothing-ness so purely, sadness so deeply and joy so fully. It can be very problematic operating in this society with these aspects of myself but that’s why I LOVE my diagnosis- because I can express what is happening to me. So, it all winds up being pretty damn beautiful.

At the center of this piece, and of my life, is my heart. Even when I am at my “worst”, I listen to it beating a steadiness of aliveness into my body. I listen to it whisper and feel it smile when I stir. It lights up when teachers/healers show up on my path and it sounds the alarm when it’s time to close the door.

I really love this piece and have worked with it for months now. I want it to go to someone who knows their struggle and desires a loving reminder that their heart is golden and that this too shall pass. Are you that person?


“The Depths of Love and Depression”


Acrylic and Mixed Media


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What Fresh New Hell is this?

During this post, I will be discussing some intense feelings around the terrorist incident in Manchester this past May, my response and some general heartache about moving through the world. I invite you to allow yourself to explore your own heartache in this post but please note the beginning is always a bit rocky. Take care of yourself- even if it’s only because a stranger on the internet asked you to…

Also, I discuss a bit about divine feminine and the language around that is a bit weird for me as a non-binary hooman. So if reading “Woman” where I write feminine makes it easier for you to digest go get it.

If you’d rather just stay in touch Check out HERE:


Alright, so TW has been set, the pants are off, the neck has been cracked and the typing fingers have been limbered. Full disclosure darling masterpieces, I am not as angry as I was in May when this happened. I honestly could not bring myself to craft words for what this incident sparked in me.

I am going to provide some context on the Manchester terrorist incident that inspired this post and the above painting. Then, I am going to discuss a bit of my feelings on the divine feminine and how the attack relates to its expression. Then I am going to finish off with what this piece of work means to me. Throughout, I am going to be emotional and as authentic as I can be.

So, the terrorist incident occurred this past May at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester. CNBC reports “Some 59 other people were wounded, including some who suffered life-threatening injuries, officials said. “Children were among the 22 people killed in a suicide attack after an Ariana Grande concert at Britain’s Manchester Arena, police confirmed Tuesday. The youngest masterpiece destroyed was a mere 8 years on this planet. …….. If you could say a quick prayer for Miss Saffie Rose Rousso I would be much obliged.

More here: (

GAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH!  Like, flips tables, tears down curtains and throws bookcase across the room is what I wanted to do with all my rage.

My mind attacked and started to analyze… My internal dialogue shifted to: “This was an attack on young women, on joy, on art and on the total amount of creative expression of these things combined. This is why we need feminism. This is an attack on innocence. This is an attack on freedom of expression.” Now, while I don’t think any of that is untrue, I do notice this tendency within myself to attempt to intellectualize the ills of the world away. I notice I have a belief that my mind and wit is the best tool to keep me feeling safe. Now, these are just observations of myself but maybe they are useful to you. So, on and on my mind went, thinking of the how’s and why’s.

Suddenly, a quiet voice asked from within “What are you avoiding feeling right now?”

In an instant, I crumpled into my own heart and cried. The cool tile of the basement floor cradling my knees as I held my face in my hands. I asked for guidance, for help, for anything but all I could hear was my own pulse in my ears and the hot tears on my face. Those are often more than enough guidance so I just kept feeling. Now, these tears, while filled with despair, were not sad. Largely, my emotions were of rage, frustration and that “SO DONE!” feeling we all sometimes get.

So here it is:









You can’t kill the essence of Goddesses. Valkyries, Sirens, Succubi, Enchantresses, Witches, Selkies, Mermaids, Amazons, Princesses, Prostitutes, Geishas, Priestesses, Mothers, Crones, Maidens- whatever word is used the feminine is limitless and untameable.  It has stuck around through wayyyy worse. It has endured and survived pillaging, kidnapping, rape, forced marriage, slavery, servitude and just high levels of oppression for THOUSANDS of years.

The feminine is worthy. The feminine is allowed boundaries, safe expression and of space in this world. The feminine deserves respect, admiration and appreciation.

And honestly, if the collective can’t manage that can it just stop senselessly killing/attacking babies?

I know my fire as a woman-y person cannot be tamed, changed or manipulated. I am wrathful just as I am beautiful. Every time I hear a spiritual new ager talk about Awakening the Divine Feminine I think- well best be careful because I can near guarantee she is royally, regally, wrathfully pissed. An energy as powerful as the divine feminine that has been dealing with oppression for thousand of years then getting maliciously attack is going to come out as RAW Mama Kali expression. Like, … brace your multidimensional self for some change and transmutation.

Anyways, after feeling I proceeded to make as per my own tradition. This piece is called “Awoken Glory”. For me, it is that giant “fuck-you” to any kind of oppression, manipulation or otherwise control. It is the honouring if the earthly fire of the feminine that can reforge the old into new. It is the style, elegance and grace of woman in battle. It is the untameable,  mischievous lover whose eyes pierce through illusion. It is the dainty flick of a wrist that unleashes a hurricane of destruction for renewal. It is the soft coo the flutters from a mother’s mouth to a babies ears. It is the slow molten and undeniable force of the divine feminine that will never cease.


AND, it is also SOLD!

Got thoughts and feelings? SHARE! I’d love feedback.  Check out HERE: to stay in touch.

I am about to drop a wicked cool release that is going to be MORE making so I would really sign the heck up now. 😉

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Affluent Artistry

I am most joyful when I am making.

I feel most in my flow, most feminine, raw, vulnerable yet powerful.

I’ve noticed there are a lot of stories around being an artist and at times I allow myself to get caught up in the drama that is not written by me.

I had a trigger moment the other day when my cousin snidely remarked “Oh, so you’re doing art now? Like for a “Li-ving””

In the moment, I was throw aback. My eyes flashed off and I tasted a sour “Fuck you” in my mouth.

Then,  I took a breath and thanked whomever for inventing yoga. I do have some regrets regarding how I responded- I decided to talk about the good money I’ve been making rather than highlighting the purposeful passion I get from creating. However, I imagine I assumed that I would garner more respect from him if I highlighted the big dollar signs. I notice myself frowning as I write that last part- I don’t make because of money. The money just sort of comes because I make beautiful things.

I have yet to meet a person who feels spiteful about beautiful things.

Although, now I am remembering that Plato was not a fan of the arts. He thought they were pitiful imitations of his “perfect world” where there was a complete and perfect example of all concepts. Part of me thinks there is a ring of truth to Platos words…
There is a certain futility that comes with creating… However, that is also one of my favourite parts! I love the mess, the struggle, the challenge of skill. I love how art forces me to engage with the world with kinder, more colourful and curious eyes. I love how perfection always remains on the horizon driving me to explore further.

Endless expansion on a creativity.
Art really does fuel my soul.