I grew up in the wilds of the Rocky Mountains, my bedroom window looked out over the protective stance of Pikes Peak Mountain, and I spent my summers looking for fairy slippers and climbing trees. I vividly remember watching the birds in our backyard and feeling so much love and joy in my body that I couldn’t contain it. I spent hours laying in the grass, watching squirrels, or lost in a space between make believe and reality as I capture what I saw and felt in my paintings and in poetry. My entire life, I have been captivated by the magic in this world.

I was raised to be a poet and an artist. Poems by Mary Oliver and Emily Dickinson were kept inside the pockets of my white eyelet pillow case as I dreamed of someday sharing my words and art with the world. I recently read that Mary Oliver would hide pencils in the grooves of trees on her favorite walking trails for the moments a poem found her. So when I visit my favorite local trail and the birds, the wind, the waves, or the tree speak… I create.

This journal and these words are written as someone who has walked the heavy roads of burnout, mental health battles, religious deconstruction and trauma healing AND someone who has never given up climbing trees, falling in love with birds, playing in ocean waves or getting lost with a paintbrush or pen. We live in a society that tries to May these entries serve as an inspiration, solidarity or as a moment of grounding.

I am not committing to a regular timeline for release as I want to give myself room to create as I feel inspired! I hope that if you choose to follow along, you will experience friendship, solidarity, and maybe even some magic.

love,
Holly

Entry 1 : A Beginning