Every artist and crafter is familiar with this scenario: you see something gorgeous, think, oh, I can do it myself, and somehow it ends up costing ten times more.

Last year, a beautiful, sparkly, and elegant black tourmaline necklace winked at me from a shop window in Bologna, Italy. I thought to myself, 100 euro? Too much. I’ll do it myself. So I wandered down the block, found a Pakistani wholesale beading store, and bought a strand of rainbow tourmaline beads instead, because that was the closest they had to what I wanted.

And that was just the beginning. Since I had already committed to becoming a “beader,” I started collecting strands along my route: Amazonite in Athens, African turquoise in Haifa… and when I got back to Missoula, I signed up for a beading class so I could actually learn what to do with all my new bead strands (plus tools, plus supplies, plus a 20% discount they offered for the week, which of course I took full advantage of — leading to additional strands of rubies, chrysocolla, peridot, emeralds, blue kyanite, chrysoprase, bumble bee jasper — and I’m sure I’m forgetting a few…). Each stone calling me for a different aesthetic or energetic reason.

Long story short: about $1,000 later, I still want that black tourmaline necklace from Bologna. And we all know going back to Italy to get it is going to cost quite a bit more…

​Lesson learned… (maybe)… Well played, universe!

And I actually got pretty good at this beading thingy, so if you’re feeling like you’re ready for an off-the-beaten-path energetic shift or some pretty wearable magic, shoot me a line and let’s play!
​
⟡ Feeling off-vibe?
Need a dose of beauty? A bespoke prescription is available by consultation.
✦ What’s your magic?
Doctor Ive is in da house ⚕️😉​

In 2021, mid-pandemic, I did this awesome tour in Seattle called Stalking Seattle.

It’s led by this very cool woman who actually lived the grunge days in the city. She takes you on an almost private tour (or at least it was during Covid) of the most important places in grunge history.

I was 18 when grunge broke out, and of course it defined my coming of age. Grunge was the voice of our generation.

So she takes us around the city. We go to Capitol Hill, where Singles was filmed. I mean—that soundtrack alone is worth its price in gold. We visit an alley in Belltown where bands like Mookie Blaylock—before they became Pearl Jam--used to rehearse. She takes us to see Kurt Cobain’s home (and infamous garage) in Lake Washington, and to the apartment building in University District where Layne Staley spent his unfortunate last years and days.
​

But the place that hit me the most was in Pioneer Square.

There’s this bar there. The Central Saloon. I’m sure I’ve walked past it a million times before—because it’s where some of my favorite art galleries are. I had no idea that so many of the music giants played some of their first gigs there.

And that’s where she told us about this concept called “pay to play.”

It was interesting.
And also kind of disturbing.

I believe it was also referenced in the original lyrics of Nirvana's "Stay Away".

Back then, bands literally had to pay venues for the chance to play their own music. To perform. To attract an audience.

I mean—can you imagine a world where Nirvana had to pay to play?
What wouldn’t I pay to have seen Nirvana live.

That idea still haunts me.
Because when you stretch it beyond the grunge days, it reveals something sadder;
A belief we as a society quietly absorbed.

​✩ ♬ ₊.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

I’m not entirely sure why I was put on this earth.
In terms of a soul mission, that is.
I can see a few different trajectories.
​
But if there’s one thing—one thing—I would love to see change in this lifetime,
besides the way we treat animals,
it’s the starving artist mentality.
​

​When I came to Montana, my husband’s walls were empty.
Someone casually suggested, “Why don’t you paint something?”
I had just reconnected with painting after a fifteen-year strike.

I had always been creative.
As a kid, I drew, sculpted, decorated classrooms—anything that let my vision move through my hands. Later, I turned dingy apartments into precious little gems.
​
In university, I tried to minor in Fine Art, but it shut me down. It felt too bleh. Too disconnected from play.

I didn’t paint again for fifteen years.
Until I traveled for an entire year.
And something opened up again.

So I painted.
I hung the paintings on the walls.
I shared them online.
And then a friend wanted to buy one.
Suddenly, without trying to be anything, I was a professional artist.

And the first advice I received from two very well-meaning people, like clockwork, followed instantly:
“You can’t make a living from art.”
“So you want to be an artist? Cool—what are you willing to sacrifice?”
 
📓🍙🎧🖤🖱⛸🤍💭
 
My husband has one of the most fertile imaginations I’ve ever encountered.
He can turn the smallest pebble into an entire universe in seconds—from a spark to the funniest little string of words. He can actually build things as well.

In another life, he could have been an inventor.
A writer.
The next Charles M. Schulz.

But he’s an electrician.
​
Because someone has to pay the bills.
Yes—we need electricity.
But without artists, musicians, creators--
life becomes functional, efficient… and meh.

And that’s the lie we’ve been sold:
That art is optional.
That creativity is indulgent.
That the artist must pay to play.

Well, I have never been one to follow the masses
(you know why… Haha)

And because of that—I decided that I get paid to play.

​Because when you’re tuned, when you’re serving what you were actually designed to bring through, value follows.
​
I’m not here to starve for my creativity.
I’m here to be sustained because of it.

​From creating art so we could decorate the walls, it somehow turned into a career, because other people began wanting to buy my paintings. Time and money were not abundant, so the house took the back seat, but I continued adding little touches—here, and there—over the years, slowly replacing what was broken.

And then, in 2020, I finally made time to treat our house as one of my art projects. I began an ambitious transformation endeavor that pretty much ended sometime this year. I did it all by hand (except for the flooring, siding and carpet: Matt replaced the downstairs floor himself in 2016, we had the siding replaced in 2017 thanks to weather, and the upstairs carpet and bathroom floors in 2020 or 2021, I can’t remember). oh, and I made him change most of the light fixtures :D

Around the same time, I decided to add interior design to my offerings—not thinking much of how it was going to happen, in my mind a room was just a bigger canvas. Apparently, that’s not quite how it works once you involve clients in your creative expression. I studied interior design in 2020–2021 to make it official…and even received an Award of Merit from the New York institute of Art + Design - for Excellence in Interior Design.

Whether it was the award or the lighting module that did it, I don’t know. Because the moment I asked my husband Matt (the electrical contractor) about some lighting questions, he burst into flames:

“They don’t know what they’re talking about. They don’t know what they’re saying. This is crap. How much did you pay for this? I hate interior designers!”

Years of him working with difficult ones had rubbed off. And without even having a chance, my interior design career was cut off before it ever began. Nipped in the bud.

Since I was now an “official,” interior designer, I used it as an excuse to do what I do best: travel.

I started going to design markets around the country, mostly to meet up with my new designer friends, and to be surrounded by beauty. I didn’t have clients who needed that level of service—but I needed it.

When I went to my first Las Vegas Design market, it hit me:
Who’s ever going to hire me?
I have no high-end photos.
My home is beautiful but not “luxury.”
No marble counters, no $10,000 and up sofas.

Just heart, love, creativity, some dog fur, and my artistic touch.
And since I didn’t even have “before” photos of our home, the imposter syndrome kicked in deeper.
Then came the 3D courses.
Then AI.
A whole attempt to manufacture images so I had “proof” of my visual skills.​

​This isn’t the point of the story—but it is the truth. Somewhere along the way, I stopped trusting myself…even though I could make a room beautiful since the day I was born, even if only by my presence.
​

​Earlier this week, I was in the shower (aka my time machine, my little cosmic portal), when I suddenly got the nudge to offer a space reading for $111 — hidden-offer style.

And since I’m no longer arguing with my Spleen…
(it’s a Human Design thing for those of you who don’t know)
I posted it.

In my enthusiasm, I thought: Oh, this is it. Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching. One client after another, after another. And I even posted an interior photo, so it was very clear what I was offering.

The download was about the name.
And okay… the name might be a little “out there.”
Because yes, I genuinely read spaces the way other people read palms or tea leaves.

Well—not predicting the future or giving premonitions.
But I can tell where a person is energetically and emotionally by looking at their space. And then I prescribe the medicine.
It’s just part of my magic. (Hint: It involves Beauty).

And no—the bookings did not ka-ching.

But a friend saw the offer… and laughed so hard she cried.
Because she thought I was offering outer space readings.

I might as well be. 🤣

What followed was the funniest, wildest three-hour conversation, and honestly, that alone made the whole post worth it.

At some point I told her, “Look, I just want to show up and do my magic. I’m not great at marketing or speaking ‘human.’ That’s where you come in. You tell people I’m awesome, they book, and we split the profits.”

She’s trying.
I’m letting it go.
Life is good.

Fast-forward to this morning (we’re in different time zones). I wake up to a message that reads:

“Childlike faith.”
I’m like… what?

She says, “Remember when you were a kid and believed in… magic, Santa, the tooth fairy — all that stuff? That’s what you tell people so they book.”

And I replied, “I still believe in magic.”

She said, “You do??”

Me: “Well… duh.”

Her: “Grow up.”

Me: “And you go re-read Peter Pan.”

We both laughed.

Jokes aside…
Maybe this is part of my mission.

I once saw a meme that said:
We live on a blue planet that circles around a ball of fire next to a moon that moves the sea…
and you don’t believe in miracles?

Maybe I’m here to remind the ones who forgot.
Maybe I’m here to inspire, uplift, and tap them on the shoulder gently like:

Hey… magic is real.
You just stopped noticing.
​

They might be teaching you to override yourself.
To push when you’re meant to wait.
To respond when you’re meant to be invited.
To hustle when your nervous system is begging you to rest.

For years I thought something was wrong with me because I couldn’t “stay consistent.”
Turns out, I was designed that way.
My inspiration comes in bursts.
My timing is instinctive, not scheduled.
My clarity lives in the moment — not in a three-month plan.

So when a coach tells you to “just post daily,” “push through resistance,” or “follow the strategy,”
ask yourself: whose design are they teaching you to live by?

Human Design isn’t just another tool — it’s your permission slip to stop forcing what was never you.

If you’ve been trying to “figure yourself out” through strategies that never quite stick — I get it.
What changed everything for me was learning how to work with my energy and unique design, not against it. 

That’s what I help others uncover in the Art of Self - a one-on-one Path Opening Transmission — where we explore your Human Design, Gene Keys, and intuitive blueprint, so you can finally see what you have always known.   

​Because the truth is that if what I tell you about your design is correct for you, you’ll feel it. You’ll know it intuitively.

At some point, you always did—until the world convinced you otherwise.

𒀭​𒀭𒀭​

And if you’re wondering why you, or someone like me, could be so susceptible to absorbing what isn’t right for them, in Human Design terms, that’s called conditioning.

I have a defined Root Center, which is like having a fire constantly lit under your butt, while my open Head Center keeps pouring in inspiration and ideas 24/7.
The Root wants to go-go-go, and the Head keeps feeding new sparks.
​
But with an undefined Sacral, unlike the Manifesting Generator and Generator in the previous part of the story, it’s like having a brand-new Lamborghini with no gas. Of course, I can endlessly rev up the engine at a red light for absolutely no good reason—but that’s not really what it’s for, now is it?

So no—this isn’t to say you can’t learn from someone who has a different energy type.

​It’s about knowing your design so well, being so aligned with it, that you can take what’s true and leave the rest. And it probably helps for your mentors and teachers, and even for parents - to know and respect your differences – so that they don’t try to convince you of something that may not be correct for you – especially if you have an open Heart – and/or open Solar Plexus centers like me– but more on that – on a different occasion.
​
When you’re grounded in your own rhythm, you can stay open to inspiration without frying your own system.

▀▄▀▄▀▄​ 🏁🏎️💨 ▀▄▀▄▀▄

If you want clarity on how you’re meant to move through the world—your natural rhythm, creative flow, and energetic boundaries—my Art of Self: Path Opening Transmission is a beautiful place to start.

It’s a quick, practical dive into the way your energy is supposed to work—so you can finally move through life in a way that feels true, effortless, and beneficial.

I thought I was signing up for spiritual wisdom.

Turns out, I was paying to listen to a windstorm in designer sunglasses.

To be fair, she looked the part: glowy, barefoot, beach backdrop. The kind of person who says “frequency” instead of “vibe” and somehow makes it sound taxable.
And maybe that’s what got me — I mean, who doesn’t want to believe enlightenment smells like sea salt and private-jet fuel?
So I clicked join.

The Transmission
She appeared, haloed in sunlight, voice rising over what I assumed was the ocean.
Except it wasn’t the ocean. It was wind. Lots of wind. The kind that makes you want to throw your phone in a sock drawer.
But everyone else in the comments was typing things like “yesss goddess” and “the frequency of wealth is loud today.”
So I thought maybe I just didn’t get it. Maybe I needed to listen harder.

Spoiler: I didn’t.

The Awakening
Somewhere between “exclusive access” and “only three people in the world have this view,” I realized this wasn’t spiritual expansion. It was a sales pitch with a seashell filter.
And that’s okay. She’s doing her thing.
But I finally recognized the sound that had been bugging me the whole time.
It wasn’t the wind.
It was the gaslighting.

The Wisdom (with a breeze of humility)
I’m not mad. I was just… curious. Maybe a little greedy. Maybe I wanted to see if enlightenment came with room service.
But here’s what I learned: spirituality and money absolutely can coexist — but when the Wi-Fi is stronger than the self-awareness, it’s probably time to log out.
​
Not everything that glitters is gold. Sometimes it’s just sand in your eyes and your money in the wind.

The manor was still.
Not dramatic, just... stagnant.
Like when the playlist runs out and nobody notices, because they weren’t really dancing in the first place.

Blondie was quiet.
Matt was quiet.
I was somewhere between feral and frozen — tiptoeing through a season of fog that had overstayed its welcome.

Then came Moose.
He didn’t knock. He barked.
He peed.
He tripped over air and launched himself into our home like a champagne cork fired from the hands of God — chaotic, effervescent, and absolutely uninterested in your furniture arrangement.

He was not the dog we were expecting.
But maybe he was the disruption we needed.

The crack in the stillness.
The tiny, unapologetic peacock tail of life flaring up in the corner of the living room, insisting:
​
“I’m here. You’re here. Let’s make some noise.”
​

Aliveness Isn’t Always Graceful
Sometimes it drools.
Sometimes it runs into glass doors.
Sometimes it leaps before it looks and lands in your lap like a furry existential crisis with a squeaky toy.

But aliveness wakes you up.

And Moose?
He barks at shadows, has feelings very loudly, and loves harder than most people I know.

He reminds us — daily — that feeling everything is a privilege.
That joy isn’t always tidy.
That the soul sometimes re-enters through the back door, covered in mud and holding a stolen sock.

Our Manor Breathes Again
The house is messy.
The couch is full.
The vibe is… unhinged but alive.

And honestly?

It’s never felt more like home.

Moose didn’t just bring us a reason to laugh — he brought back the part of us that could.

Sometimes the deepest trauma is the one that feels most natural.
You think it’s your nature to give, to absorb, to keep the peace.
But what if it isn’t who you are — just who you became to survive?
​

For a long time, I didn’t recognize my trauma because it wore the mask of love.
Fawning wasn’t something I did — it was something I became.
It was sacrifice disguised as kindness.
It was putting everyone else’s needs first — not because I didn’t matter, but because I believed I was the strongest.
Because I thought I was keeping everyone safe.
That if I said no, if I stopped absorbing, if I chose myself… something bad would happen.

That was the trauma:
The belief that my desires were dangerous.

I was smart. I was determined. I was brave.
But the invisible mask of fawning became my greatest self-sabotage.
Because I couldn’t see it.
No one could.
​

The Silent Form of Trauma
Fawning doesn’t look like panic.
It doesn’t fall apart or scream.
It adapts.

And because I could function — always with a smile — no one asked if I was okay.
No one saw I was collapsing under the weight of the world I put on my shoulders.

​Not even me.

❁✿❀    ღ

Like the functioning alcoholic, I was the functional empath:

• Taking on the draining tasks no one else wanted
• Anticipating others’ needs before my own even formed
• Absorbing guilt and shame like a second skin — even though I don’t fully know what shame feels like (more on this in a future post)
• Silencing my truth to protect the people I love
• Internalizing chaos as my responsibility to fix 
• Protecting others from pain, even at the cost of myself

The Recognition That Set Me Free
Fawning is different from fight, flight, or freeze.
It’s slipperier.
It disguises itself as intuition, strength, compassion, maturity.

I now see:
From the moment I was born, I learned to regulate the emotional temperature of the room.

I won’t get into the reasons why this happens in this post, but I now understand it has to do with both family patterns and our unique Human Design.

At its root, it’s a trauma response — one designed to regulate the environment, not express your truth.

This is why so many brave, high-functioning, loving women (and men) stay stuck:

• They don’t see the pattern.
• They think it’s just their nature to be accommodating.
• They call it kindness, but it’s actually self-abandonment in disguise.

​
What I Know Now
​I don’t need to prove my goodness by being the most accommodating woman in the room.
I don’t have to hold the emotional weight of other people’s choices.
I am allowed to want, to rest, to disappoint people.

Saying no is not a betrayal.
Dreaming bigger is not dangerous.
Letting go of false peace is not cruelty — it’s truth.

And most of all:
I wasn’t anxious — I was overflowing with what no one else knew how to hold.
And I wasn’t broken — I was bending under the weight of what I thought was love.
I was never selfish for wanting more.
I was just fawning my way through a world that didn’t know how to hold me back.
But now I do.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

There’s something quietly beautiful in the works for November --
an experience created to help you gently uncover the invisible masks you’ve been wearing,
and remember who you are beneath them.

More soon. 𓂃 ོ☼𓂃

Why Your Environment Matters as Much as Your Inner Work
There’s a common misconception that transformation happens in isolation — that if you meditate, journal, or do inner work, everything else will automatically fall into place. But the truth is, we are not separate from our environment. The spaces we live in, work in, and sleep in carry as much weight as the work we do on ourselves.
​

How Aligning Your Inner and Outer Spaces Creates Effortless Flow
I help people refine and elevate both their internal and external environment. When the inner and outer support each other, life becomes effortless. Our nervous system, energy, and aesthetics align to create a self-sustaining mirror — a space that regulates, harmonizes, and activates us.
​

​​Beauty, Energy, and Coherence: The Key to Transformation
It’s not just about beauty, though beauty matters. It’s not just about energy work, though that is essential. Beauty is a passive nervous system regulator, and it carries the same frequency as love and gratitude — even when it’s challenging to feel grateful from the mind alone. When these elements converge, they create coherence: mind and heart, inner and outer, aligning to support a life that feels natural, empowered, and deeply embodied.
​

​Human Design, Gene Keys, and Astrology for Your Ideal Space
I support the inner architecture through energetics, a bespoke and intuitive mix of Human Design, Gene Keys, and sometimes astrology — helping you uncover the manual you came here with and how you are meant to move through the world.

To align with their surroundings, I can intuitively guide a person to tune their environment to their inner design and goals, but when someone wants clarity on the spaces that serve them best, we can dive specifically into which environments, layouts, and aesthetics are most aligned for their unique human design.
​
​
​
The Art of Space and the Art of Life: Designing Your Aligned Life
The environments we inhabit are extensions of ourselves. When they’re aligned, they hold us, elevate us, and reflect the life we’re meant to live. Whether through the Art of Space or the Art of Life, my work is about creating coherence — inside and out — so that your environment doesn’t just reflect who you are, but amplifies who you are becoming.

Explore Services →

That’s where my work truly shines. I don’t just talk theory—I guide you into embodiment. By refining your environment and lifestyle, Reality Transurfing stops being something you “practice” and becomes the reality you actually live inside of.
​

In essence, by serendipity, my work arrived before I knew Reality Transurfing, yet it naturally embodies it—and offers a living, breathing practice of Reality Transurfing through design, space, and lifestyle alignment.

​Being a 5/1 splenic projector, I have a knack for seeing the misalignments in your space, life, and energy patterns that others miss—and guiding you through them so that Transurfing stops being a theory and becomes the reality you actually live. It’s about feeling your future already humming through your environment, every single day.

For those who already realize the immense power their identity and environment hold—if you’re ready to stop practicing and start living your ideal lifeline, check out my services or even better, let’s talk!

How Beauty, Energy & Environment Shape the Life You’re Becoming
Before I ever thought of myself as a "lifestyle designer" or “space alchemist” I was a professional artist.

I spent over a decade painting, exhibiting, and setting up booths at art shows — often pouring my heart into the work only to sit there in deep discomfort if no one stopped by. The silence felt brutal. The spiral would begin: Maybe I’m not good enough. Maybe I don’t belong here.

I was so sensitive to the energy of rejection that if things didn’t go well right away, I could barely sit in my booth at all. I’d find excuses to leave, talk to other artists, avoid the discomfort of just being with myself in that moment.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was the beginning of my relationship with space, energy, and the deep psychology of environment. Also, to understanding how human design held clues to my sensitivity and to why this affected me so much. (Spoiler alert: it also holds the solutions).

One day, something shifted.

Instead of spiraling, I began experimenting. I started silently blessing the people who passed by. I noticed something beautiful about each of them. I rearranged my booth — not because I knew what I was doing, but because I felt something was off.

And then, suddenly... people started walking in. People started buying.
I didn’t change my art. I shifted the my own energy and the energy of the space.

That was the seed.
That was when I began to understand:
Space holds energy.
Thoughts hold power.
And the way things feel often matters more than how they look.

I began to study — not through textbooks, but through my own body.
I studied failure.
I studied misalignment.
I studied what it felt like to show up in a space that didn’t reflect who I was.

And slowly, I began to piece together a language of beauty, nervous system regulation, space psychology, and intuitive alignment.

Not as something I “decided to teach.”
But as something I couldn’t ignore.
Because I could feel when a space was off.
I could feel when a woman’s environment was amplifying a version of herself she was no longer meant to carry.
I could feel when her home was quietly telling her a story that didn’t match her truth.
And I could feel the power in aligning it.
I could feel if someone felt misaligned - from their own energy.

I work at the intersection of the tangible and the energetic.
I help women design both their spaces and their lives in a way that is aligned, refined, and deeply supportive.

It’s not just about styling.
It’s not just about energy work.
It’s the fusion of both.

Because when your nervous system feels safe, beauty returns.
And when your environment reflects your becoming — instead of your past — everything shifts.

Sometimes that shift comes from rearranging a room.
Sometimes it comes from a conversation that opens the door back to your truth.

Here’s what I know:
You’re not broken.
You’re just becoming.
Your home isn’t just a backdrop.
It’s a co-creator.

And beauty?
True beauty — not performative perfection — is one of the most powerful tools of nervous system regulation I’ve ever known.
Because we don’t just live in homes.
We live in frequencies.

My offerings were born from this understanding:
The Art of Space™ is not about what’s wrong in your home — it’s about what’s misaligned.
We tune your space to your truth. We bring coherence to what feels chaotic.
We make the invisible visible — and shift the story your space is telling.

The Art of Life™ is about your energy, your design, your becoming.
Using Human Design, Gene Keys, nervous system awareness, and intuitive insight, we map your essence — and bring it into form.

Because you don’t have to break yourself to become yourself.
You just have to create an environment — internal and external — that supports who you already are. Who you're meant to be.

I call this fine lifestyle design.
Because this is about more than style.
It’s about how you live.
How you hold yourself.
How you soften, expand, breathe, remember.
It’s beauty as a mirror.
Space as a tuning fork.
Life as an offering.
​
And you — as a woman in her own right time — coming home to yourself.

Ready to explore your own refinement?
​If this speaks to something stirring inside you…

If you're feeling the pull toward alignment, resonance, and beauty that actually supports your becoming --
I’d love to walk that journey with you.
You can explore my current offerings — including The Art of Space and The Art of Life, or spend an entire day with me working on your becoming. 

Let’s make space for the truth of who you are.
And design a life — and a home — that supports all of it.

I think I accidentally entered a Mattress Portal 
(aka, one of those metaphors that slaps you mid-to-do list)

So I ordered a new mattress. It arrives today.
Not for my main bed—for my backup bed.
Yes, I have one.
For reasons mostly spelled:
S-N-O-R-I-N-G.
The one I retreat to when the snoring reaches:
aggressive bear in an echo chamber levels.

It’s been my little sanctuary.
And technically, it worked.
Not perfect. Not new.
Not mine.
It used to belong to a teenage boy.
And it smelled like it--
like a locker room footnote no amount of spiritual bypassing could fix.


So I:

• scrubbed it
• saged it
• Febrezed it within an inch of its life
• disguised it with blankets
• accessorized it with throw pillows

Like it was an HGTV dorm room detox—trauma edition.

And for a while, I convinced myself it was fine.
Until I thought- maybe it’s time for an upgrade.

So I finally made the call.
Ordered the same mattress we have in the main bedroom.
Didn’t overthink it.
Didn’t spiral for two weeks.
Just clicked “Buy.”


And then…
​
Suddenly the old one felt:
⊹ supportive
⊹ familiar
⊹ kinda comfy

It was giving:
“Maybe this isn’t so bad after all?” energy.

That’s when I realized:
This mattress was a portal.
A perfectly squishy, faintly scented, energetically-laden metaphor for my life.

The part of me that gets this close to real lumbar support--
Then panics…
And clings to the old out of fear the new might not deliver. Because what if they haul it away and the new one is worse?

The:
“Maybe-I-should-stay-where-it’s-safe-even-if-it-smells-like-a-boy’s-old-socks” pattern.

And the truth is:
I don’t have to fall in love with the new mattress overnight.
I just have to trust the version of me who bought it--
The version who knew she was ready for better.

Even if it’s just a mattress.
(It’s never just a mattress.)


#MattressPortal
#EnergeticUpgrade
#VisualAlchemy
#TrustYourTaste
#NoGoingBack

Full disclosure: This isn’t my actual spare bedroom.

It’s from a High Point Market showroom—one of those dreamy, trade-only portals where design meets possibility.

And yes... you can come with me.
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✔ Fine Lifestyle Design: In the Wild™ — Market Edition
Signature Experience – A VIP immersion day for the woman ready to live, shop, curate a corner of her world and embody her next-level lifestyle, normally reserved for interior designers, but accessible to my clients through me.

(And maybe test a few cloudlike mattresses along the way.)
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❤︎ Inquire privately to join me.​

Madame de Crème has lived a long and sedentary life on my counter, her pump no longer able to reach the remaining lotion stuck to her glamorous bottom. What remains smells less like lavender and more like “expired spa fantasy.” But the container? Still divine.

And so begins Operation Lavender Lazarus™.

Next up?

​Operation Vintage Leather Meats™
Because once you’re done resurrecting antique lotion, the only logical next step is confronting the frozen archives of Thanksgivings past—those noble feasts that never got to live to their fullest potential.

Stay tuned as we clean out the freezer and face the fowl truth about what’s been aging in the icy shadows.
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Will the Duchess of Decay be joined by the Countess of Cold Cuts?

We’ll find out—freezer drawer by freezer drawer.

🌱 Generators
Steady, radiant, satisfying energy. You’re designed to do what lights you up and brings you joy.
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Colors that support you: Rich, energizing tones—earthy reds, warm golds, vibrant greens. Think cozy, grounded, and alive.
Spaces that make you want to move.


🔄 Manifesting Generators
Fast-moving, multi-passionate, here for what’s next. You pivot naturally—and need spaces that let you.

​Colors that support you: Saturated, playful colors—corals, deep teals, burnt orange.
Your energy likes stimulation, but with style.
Think eclectic, not chaotic. Layered, not cluttered.


🌫 Projectors 
Seers, guides, and energetic refiners. Your aura is focused, and your energy needs care.

Colors that support you: Cool, airy tones—misted lavender, soft gray, refined neutrals.
Projectors thrive in environments that breathe.
Clarity, space, and beauty that feels earned, not loud.
(Also… hi. That’s me.)


⚡️ Manifestors
Bold, independent, and meant to initiate. Your energy clears paths—and needs space to move.

Colors that support you: Strong, anchored hues—midnight blue, black accents, jewel tones.
Not too stimulating. Not too subdued.
Think “statement with intention.”


🌕 Reflectors
Lunar beings—mirrors of their environment. Sensitive, fluid, deeply attuned.

Colors that support you: Ethereal tones, shifting light, softness—pearlescent whites, sky hues, candlelight warmth. What matters more than the color itself is the quality of energy it carries.

Human Design didn’t give me a new identity.
It offered language for what I already knew.
It’s helped me understand why some places feel like clarity and others feel like noise.
Why my energy needs space.
Why certain choices feel good in theory but wrong in the body.
Why beauty, for me, is frequency—felt, not forced.
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So no, this won’t become a Human Design blog.
But it will become a space where the lens of Human Design weaves into what I already do:
Art. Fine Lifestyle Design. The Art of Space. The Art of Life.
Design that feels like home—on the inside and the outside.

You might see me speak about centers. Or energy. Or maybe two very different dogs named Blondie and Moose.
But the thread will stay the same:
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Creating a life that feels aligned, intentional, and deeply your own.
If that resonates, you’re invited.
The experiment begins.

​Let’s go.

A New Era of Growth: Beauty, Alignment, and Receiving
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I want my work to stand as proof that transformation can be beautiful.

🜃 I curate spaces that elevate your energy.
🜁​ I create art that activates something deeper in you.
🜄​ I guide people into alignment without force, trauma, or struggle.

Because I believe in a different way.

A way where you expand through ease.
A way where growth is magnetic, not painful.
A way where you don’t have to break yourself to become yourself.
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And if you feel this truth in your bones, you already know--
This is the way you were meant to grow, too.

When you're ready, I'm here.
Explore my art, space refinement, or lifestyle offerings—each one designed to bring beauty, alignment, and ease into your world.

Recently, someone I admire said that the phrase “having it all” feels triggering to her. That it speaks to never being satisfied, to a hunger that’s never fed. And I understand that lens—deeply. Especially in a world obsessed with more, more, more.

But that’s not what having it all means to me.
To me, it’s not about endless striving or proving something.
It’s not about chasing some elusive version of success.
It’s not about accumulation.

It’s about and.

It’s about undoing the conditioning that says you have to pick:

• Purpose or prosperity.
• Love or freedom.
• Beauty or depth.
• Magic or mastery.
• Healing or luxury.

​It’s about refusing to gaslight yourself into believing that joy must be earned through sacrifice.

Because for so long, we’ve been told that choosing ourselves comes with a cost.
That we should settle.
That “enough” is only what fits in someone else’s comfort zone.

But for me, having it all is a reclamation.
Not of everything, but of everything that’s true. Everything that’s mine.

And maybe I’ll never be satisfied—because I wasn’t made for maintenance.
As a Projector, I was designed to evolve.
To guide.
To hold the vision of what’s possible—not what’s practical.

So no, it’s not about more.

It’s about not less.
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Not less than what I deserve.
Not less than what’s aligned.
Not less than the fullness of what I came here to live.
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The Road to Success
(Part 1: The Choice)
 
I realized that doing the work of alignment then
Would bring ease to me later--
A life free from the grind of 9-to-5,
Free from living someone else’s plan.
 
It might have seemed “easier” at the time
To skip the work of healing,
To avoid becoming self-led,
To sidestep trust, blocks, and resistance.
 
But that work became light to carry
When I knew what waited ahead:
Aligned clients, authentic expression,
And rewards too great to count—not only monetary,
But the freedom to be fully me.
 
And now, I know this path is the only one.
I could quit, go get hired,
Choose the familiar over the unknown.
I could return to Phoenix,
Because Yuma doesn’t look like San Diego.
 
But my internal GPS is set.
It whispers, “The beach is yours.”
And though the road is paved with faith
And built on small aligned actions,
I will arrive—by hook or by crook.


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The Road to Success
(Part 2: The Unfolding)
 
But there was no real choice, was there?
I wasn’t going back to Phoenix.
Why would I, when everyone knew
I belonged to the ocean?
 
And I didn’t go back to what wasn’t terrible,
But wasn’t working either.
Not to the art shows or to the burnout,
Not to the fear disguised as safety.
 
Instead, I trusted the unfolding,
Even when the evidence denied my becoming.
Eliminating what didn’t fit, I yelled:
“Not that! Not that!”
Until I found the shoe that was meant for me.
 
Because that was the path that felt alive,
The one that I blazed exclusively for me,
And it didn’t matter if no one else could see it.
I found my San Diego,
My freedom, my ocean, my truth.
  
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The Road to Me
(Part 3: For The Very First Time)
 
For the first time in my life,
I didn’t choose the easy road.
The one where everything worked,
Where I floated with the current
And pleased the outside world.
 
For the first time,
I didn’t care how it looked from the outside--
Didn’t let the whispers of fear
Weave their lies around my choices.
 
For the first time,
I invested in me,
In what couldn’t be seen,
In what only I could feel.
 
For the first time,
I chose the long game,
The one that was slow to reveal,
But promised everything real.
 
For the first time in my life,
I chose trust over ease,
Faith over fear,
And made the choice to trust in the unseen.
 
For the first time in my life,
I chose me. 

​I’ve been trying to get back in the studio forever.
It was just not happening.
My studio was ugly. So I redid it last July.
That wasn’t it.

Maybe I was scared to tie my passion to external validation again.
The moment art stopped being for me, the moment I opened the door for sales,
​it started being about the clients.
“The business.”
It stopped being fun.
Maybe that’s why I kept finding other things to do. I tend to do that.

But my first First Friday in years is coming. Fast.
Like, in two weeks fast…
And I still haven’t started painting again.
So in a last-ditch effort to shake things (and my hands) up, I booked a little beading class at a cute shop in town.

Not because I love beading (I don’t).
Not because I have patience for tiny little knots (I don’t).
But because I had a strand of tourmaline I bought in Italy and a strand of turquoise I bought in Israel on my last trip there in November, and I wanted to learn how to turn them into necklaces.​

​And Then… Chrysocolla Found Me.
The instructor suggested something bigger—easier to work with for this particular technique.
And that was tough because I don’t like big, I like dainty.
But then I remembered Chrysocolla.

I asked.
She showed me.
I picked up the strand.
A stunning blue-green necklace that looked like it belonged on a tropical beach.
(Just like me).
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​The Bead, The Knot, and the Shift I Didn’t See Coming.
I sat down.
Watched the demonstration.
It looked super complicated.
But to my surprise, I immediately picked it up.
And I started inserting beads and tying knots.

I don’t have patience for tiny knots.
I don’t find repetitive tasks meditative.
I didn’t even think I’d enjoy this class.

But somewhere in the middle of tying those knots… something shifted.
I dropped out of my head and into my body.
Into my hands.
Into the rhythm.

​Finally.

After months of trying to force myself back into creating…
After all the overthinking, the “why am I not in the studio yet?” mental loops…
It took a beading class—something so not my thing—to break the resistance.

Maybe it was because…
This wasn’t something I was learning in order to sell.
This wasn’t about an offer, a collection, a price tag.
It was just for me.

☆ No pressure.
☆ No expectations.
☆Just beauty, intention, and the simple joy of creating with my hands—making something I wanted to wear.
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Once upon a time, Soul and Human set out on a journey together.

Soul always knew the destination. She saw the big picture, the why, the magic of it all. She walked with confidence, trusting every twist and turn.

Human, on the other hand, was more cautious. She wanted to see the map, double-check the directions, and make sure they weren’t making a mistake. She carried a heavy backpack full of what-ifs, second-guesses, and past regrets—just in case.

At first, Soul walked ahead, while Human hesitated. “Are you sure this is the right way?” Human asked. “What if we should have taken a different road?”

Soul smiled. “This is our path. We’re exactly where we need to be.”

But Human wasn’t convinced. She kept looking at other travelers, wondering if their route was better. She stopped often, adjusting the straps on her backpack, making sure she was “ready.”

One day, they reached a clearing with two paths. Human froze. “What if I choose the wrong one? What if I mess everything up?”

Soul sat down under a tree and laughed. “You can’t get it wrong. No matter which path you take, I’ll be right there with you.”

Human sighed, dropping her backpack onto the ground. For the first time, she noticed how heavy it was. She had been carrying doubts that didn’t belong to her.

She looked at Soul—so calm, so certain.

And then it clicked.

They weren’t separate. They weren’t on two different journeys. They were walking the same path, together.

From that moment on, Human stopped hesitating so much. She still had questions, but instead of stopping to overthink, she asked them while moving forward.

And for the first time, she felt it—the joy of the journey, the ease of trusting, the magic of simply being.

Because the truth was, Soul and Human always wanted the same thing.
It was never Soul vs. Human. It was always Soul + Human.

And together, they walked forward—lighter, freer, and completely aligned.

I never believed growth had to be painful.

For most of my life, I actually thought the opposite. That life was meant to be beautiful, full of ease, joy, and adventure. That challenges would come, sure—but they weren’t the requirement for transformation.

Then, as I dove deeper into consciousness and personal growth, I kept hearing the same message over and over:

“Pain is the greatest teacher.”
“You have to break down before you break through.”
“Transformation requires suffering.”

At first, I wondered if I had been naïve. If maybe I had it wrong all along. Because yes, I’ve grown through challenges. I’ve been shaped by hardship. But what if that was just because it was the path I had unconsciously allowed, rather than the only path that existed?

Because here’s what I now know:

Transformation doesn’t have to be painful. It can be intentional.

We don’t have to wait for breakdowns or crises to expand.
We don’t have to learn through suffering.
We don’t have to let life force us into evolution when we could just as powerfully choose it.

And this is what I have been rediscovering—remembering—through my own work.

​Happy Valentine’s Day! Today is the perfect day to reflect on love—the connections that nurture our hearts and the beauty that fills our lives. But what if I told you that the vibration of love is at the very core of manifestation?

​I’ve often said that, in my experience, beauty carries the same frequency as gratitude. And while that’s certainly true, I’ve come to realize that it goes even deeper. It’s not just about noticing beauty—it’s about feeling it. It’s about tuning into the essence of love that permeates everything around us.

For me, manifestation isn’t about repeating affirmations or waiting for something to magically appear. It’s about loving the little things and fully engaging with the beauty that surrounds us.

When I’m at a place like the Las Vegas Design Market (from which I just returned a couple weeks ago), surrounded by stunning displays, or when I’m hiking with my dogs in the woods (aka our enchanted forest) while listening to my favorite music, it hits me: these moments—these acts of immersion in beauty, where I feel a deep sense of awe—are where I manifest the shit out of my life.
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Here are a few examples of what that looks like for me:

• Engaging all my senses as I gaze at a beautiful painting, almost “getting drunk” on the beauty—especially JMW Turner’s seascapes.
• Traveling and wandering around the world, or just even in a different city.
• Empowering a client to follow their dreams—and witnessing them flourish.
• Laughing with my family.
• Lounging with my dogs, feeling gratitude for how soft and beautiful they are, giving them forehead kisses.
• Enjoying a beautifully designed space or environment.
• Gawking at a stunning piece of furniture—that’s just art on a larger scale.
• Basking in the warmth of the sun, watching a hummingbird drink from the feeder I hung, or noticing a bee and butterfly visiting flowers I planted.
• Sitting in my garden with a Cuba Libre, grounding my feet on freshly cut grass, and enjoying the afternoon sun on my back.

Here’s what I realized: Each of these moments isn’t just an appreciation of beauty; it’s me tuning into the vibration of love. And when I’m in that frequency, manifestation becomes a natural part of my existence.

​Love is a frequency—a powerful force that vibrates through everything. When you connect with that frequency, you’ll notice how your desires flow more easily into your life. Love isn’t just a feeling; it’s a way of being. It’s about appreciating everything you have right now and acknowledging the magic that already exists in your world.
When you choose to see the world through the lens of beauty—and it really is about the little things, at least for me—your energy shifts. You become magnetic. And that’s when manifestation starts to feel effortless. I mean, we all know that when we are in love, everything just works better, right?
This Valentine’s Day, I invite you to take a moment to tap into the love and beauty around you. Appreciate the little things. Feel the love that already exists in your life. This is where the magic begins.

Ready to surround yourself with beauty, embrace the little things, and use them to manifest bigger things in your life? This also requires alignment, clarity, and creating an environment that works for you. ​It's about falling in love with your space—and your life.

Work with me, and I’ll show you exactly how I do it.

Book a Private Space Refinement consultation, and let’s make your space a powerful reflection of who you are and everything you’re calling in.

After the high-energy buzz of Vegas, where I explored how VIP Days could create powerful shifts both inside and out, I came to Portland thinking I’d capture a picture-perfect sample VIP Day—design showrooms and art galleries in the Pearl District, fun local indie boutiques on NW 23rd Ave, and the city’s incredible food scene.

But here’s the truth—Portland is too beautiful in its everyday moments to rush through a plan.
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So, I did what I do best: I slowed down, stopped to smell the roses, and let the day unfold.
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✨ Because isn’t that life, too? The moments of deepest transformation rarely happen when we force them—they happen when we create space, stay open, and trust the process. I can see the big picture, but I don’t need to force it into existence. Instead, I take one aligned step at a time, knowing that everything is unfolding exactly as it should.
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Some people chase storms. I chase art. That’s what brought me to Portland—to see one of my favorite bands. But just like with everything else, the real magic happened when I let go of the plan and allowed the city to show me its own rhythm.
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That’s what a VIP Day with me feels like. It’s not about a strict itinerary—it’s about stepping into a higher frequency, aligning with what feels right, and letting magic unfold. Whether that means styling your space, refining your vision, or simply remembering what it feels like to be deeply inspired again.

This isn’t a long, drawn-out process—I see what’s out of alignment instantly and help you shift it fast. No fluff, no overcomplication—just powerful clarity and transformation in real time.
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I’m thinking San Diego in April, Seattle in July, and Missoula or virtual—almost anytime. Where should we meet?

If you’re craving a day that’s both intentional and full of in-the-moment magic, send me a message and let’s tailor something beautiful. These VIP Days are for those who just know—because when you know, you know.