(A passage from The Terma Collective)
I came across this passage several years ago and it changed my life. What still pulled on my soul was the quiet and then not-so-quiet call to become an artist. One tiny step after the next, and I found myself in the center of my life’s dream. Remarkable.
And now, all of these years later, in the quiet pauses between the noises of work and business and mothering and living a deliciously full life, I’m hearing a new call to push up against a new edge of this creative life. To tell my story and express my work in the world in new ways.
It might not look like much, but renting this projector felt like the scariest thing I’ve done in years. Because it meant that I had committed. To using it. To teach. To not just believing my story mattered but telling it. In front of people.
I was nervous, but I did it. And the lesson of doing the things we didn’t think we could do circled back around to my heart and taught me all of it’s valuable, heart centering lessons all over again. The ones about making small moves while trusting that all the bigger metaphysical moves will shift with us. The ones about stepping into our courage because it allows us to witness our lives from a different angle. The ones about embracing our vulnerabilities and trusting the process of answering the urges, even when we’ve got gremlins galore.
I’m reminded of a quote that also changed my life not so long ago:
“….the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way.” – WH Murray
I can’t say for sure, but I’m thinking that the small but big move of renting the projector and then actually using it during a small, sweet conference this past weekend, was the beginning of something new. It’s been a long time since I felt a sense of absolute relief (and a smidge of pride) that comes after we’ve pushed ourselves. I’m just so glad I did it.
Big thanks to all the lovely and amazing ladies that came and held that space for me as we learned from each other. Super grateful.
Hi, I’m Kelly Rae Roberts! Before I picked up my first paintbrush at the age of 30, I was a medical social worker. I followed my whispers and started playing with paint, and everything changed.
I’m now a full-time artist, author, and Possibilitarian who helps women explore their creativity, nourish their souls, and build thriving creative businesses.
Don't want to miss a post?
Get my LATEST POSTS sent to your inbox.