You won’t manifest it unless you can visualize it,” Paul said to me several times during the past two years. He would push a blank piece of paper under my nose after breakfast or get out a pen to draw on a napkin during dinner – each time coaxing me to draw my dream studio. Deeply impressed that he actually used the words visualize and manifest (seriously…this coming from a man with work hardened calloused hands) I realized with shock that I had lost a bit of my own belief in magic. Somehow my optimism lost its polish these past few years while faced with financial challenges, major surgery, no insurance, large medical bills, a bank which seemed keen to take my home and no studio to work in. Paul’s belief in manifesting fueled my imagination. I started taking pictures of old barn buildings, sketched and talked about my dream studio.  He began to salvage wood.

A shift occurred. Tarnished tired places began to beam. Polished. My belief in the BIG picture strengthened me during my father’s sudden terminal illness and death. I grieve. I embrace blessings too numerous to count. 

Now this:

 

The Universe has stepped up and drawn aside a huge heavy stage curtain with relish and a big “TA DA!!”