I’m still in the middle of healing, but somewhere along the way I realized my life never stopped. I’m creating art, selling ravens, preparing to teach in Colorado, laughing at this crazy body—and occasionally taking a two-hour nap. Maybe we don’t have to wait until everything is fixed to keep living our story.

What happens when life forces you to slow down, but your brain never learned how? I’m learning that I may not need to get back to who I was. Maybe I just need to give myself permission to discover who I am now—and trust that I’ll get there when I get there.

Sometimes what we’re going through simply isn’t funny. But resilience doesn’t mean we have to laugh at the hard stuff. Sometimes it means making room for laughter anyway—and finding humor wherever we can, even if that means Jaws, dive-bombing bats, and a near miss with a very fashionable “bat hat.”

What if the very thing that once made you feel like an outsider is actually one of your greatest gifts? From a childhood experience that made me afraid to create to becoming an artist and advocate for fiber art, I'm discovering that belonging doesn't mean becoming like everyone else. Sometimes we simply need to make the circle bigger.

There are seasons when strength isn't found in doing everything ourselves. It's found in the people who walk beside us. This reflection explores the quiet power of community, gratitude, and the village that helps us continue creating, healing, and moving forward.

Healing and grief don't always happen one after the other. Sometimes they walk together. A personal reflection on loss, creativity, hope, and finding the courage to begin again.

Every work of art begins with one simple question: "What if?" Discover how curiosity, imagination, and the courage to explore inspire both creativity and life itself.

What if the kindness, compassion, and grace you so freely offer others also belonged to you? A simple question changed the way I think about self-care.

The biggest transformations rarely happen all at once. They begin with quiet choices—offering ourselves compassion, honoring our limits, and becoming the person our younger self always needed.

Healing doesn't always happen in dramatic moments. Sometimes it looks like standing in your studio, surrounded by fibers and possibilities, remembering what it feels like to create again.

Sometimes the greatest gift another person can give us isn't advice—it's the simple reminder that we're not alone. This week, one artist's honest words reminded me that healing, creativity, and resilience grow stronger when we share our stories and support one another.

During a Creative Strength Training class, I discovered that the Tower isn't just an archetype—it's the moment life changes forever. Through my own journey of surgery, recovery, and unexpected setbacks, I realized healing isn't about returning to who we were. It's about becoming someone stronger than we ever imagined.

After weeks of surgery, infection, IV antibiotics, and recovery, a good doctor's appointment, a trip to Bisbee, and a very necessary nap reminded me that healing is about more than medicine—it's about living again.

Healing takes more than medicine. It takes patience, emotional strength, support, hope, and learning to slow down one day at a time. This week I’m sharing a deeply personal reflection on what healing really looks like.

After surviving a serious post-surgical infection and emergency surgery, artist Deb Deaton reflects on fear, emotional healing, vulnerability, and the unexpected art that emerged from the experience. A deeply personal story about intuition, survival, and continuing anyway.

After what should have been a routine recovery, I found myself fighting to be heard while my body was telling a different story. This is a reflection on advocacy, resilience, and healing through unexpected complications.

A quiet reflection of healing, slowing down, and what it means to stay connected to your creativity - even when life asks you to move differently.

A moment of fear, truth, and unexpected emotion led to something bigger—finding my voice and finally saying what I’ve never said out loud before.

A joyful reflection on creating through life’s busy and uncertain moments—learning to honor your energy, trust your creative rhythm, and continue making art anyway.