I end each day with some quiet moments in my art journal, sitting in bed.
Some nights, I write a few gratitudes or a prayer or intention.
Some nights I doodle mandalas or intuitive sketches.
Some nights, I cringe to confess, I make lists for the day ahead.
But there are times, on certain nights, that I don’t even lift my weary pen.
I just open my journal and touch the pages,
in a soft and subtle practice,
staying open to my passages of creativity.
…I am blessed, I am blessed…