Listen to the poem
The Path of Life
Beloved daughter of my beloved daughter
Born of magic
You are of the light, brilliant and bright
A beautiful gift to all of life
Burst forth into this world
A miracle of existence
A fierce presence, the sheer essence
Of love.
And so begins your sacred journey
On the path of life
Treasured daughter of my treasured daughter
Golden threads of wisdom
Woven through ages, your feminine lineage
Of pure creativity, commitment and courage.
Trust, in the sageness
That forever runs through you
supports you and pulls you.
With love and with kindness
We are holding the high watch.
Receive our embrace
Let it reach you and teach you
How to stand when you fall
And answer the call
to love your life.
Family means you never walk this path alone
Precious daughter of my precious daughter
I wish so much for you
That your girlish days
Set your heart ablaze
With butterfly kisses
Dreams and wishes
Plucked straight from 200 billion stars
Nestled innocently in deep and purple endless skies
They speak no lies
But plant their seeds inside your eyes.
Whos truth grows roots
Down into your heart, they’ve had their start
And soon they bloom
Wonderous colors and sweet perfume
Spilling from the light of your smile
For everyone, everywhere
They propagate their seeds of prayer
May your path be your own limitless creation
Cherished daughter of my cherished daughter
Like the butterfly sheds the cocoon it is in,
The maiden gives way to the woman within.
Rising is the power of the feminine force
Let it be your source, that guides you forth.
May you gather your courage to discover and birth
All which is worth your time here on earth.
May you know the meaning of full devotion
As an act of surrender to your true expression
Your joy, your purpose, your deepest passion.
May you answer the call of your soul
What it yearns for, It burns for
The unrestrained, uncontained expression of faith
In your unique amazing grace.
May your path always take you home to you
The Path of Life Poem Reveal
The Story of The Path of Life
Julie came to me in March 2022, when her daughter Morgan was 6 months pregnant with a baby girl. She wanted to know if it was possible to do a project for someone who hadn’t even been born yet. Until that point my work had only been a way to tell the story of a relationship that had already been underway. Memories, emotions and love built over time were weaved into a poem and expressed in a painting. This would be different and I was excited!
In our first conversation dedicated to information gathering, Julie spoke a lot about the mother daughter bonds. The bond between herself and her daughter Morgan, herself and her own mother and the anticipation for this baby girl who would be named Sloan. She spoke about traits that could be passed down from great grandmother to grandmother to mother to child.
The conception of any child occurs as a miracle. However, in this case there were so many reasons that it should not have been possible that it seemed like even more of a miracle. The poem began with this sentiment and it was present for me during the entire project.
The theme “being on the path of life” emerged for me pretty quickly. I wanted the poem to walk Sloan down that path through the different stages of life, from birth to little girl to coming of age to powerful woman. Julie had shared her hopes and dreams for her granddaughter's life and so they got sprinkled in throughout, along with sayings like “holding the high watch” and “amazing grace” that were quintessentially Julie. In the end it felt to me like a prayer for Sloans life in her grandmother's voice.
When it was time to create the painting, of course we knew it was going to be a painting of a path. I had asked Julie what her favorite flowers were, what her moms were and what Morgan’s were. I went to the local botanical gardens and photographed all the flowers that were in bloom. I went to the State park and took photos of paths canopied by big oak trees dripping with moss. My plan was to paint this scene and then to add all of their favorite flowers alongside the path so that each woman would be represented.
But no matter what I did, it wasn’t working. I painted and whited over, painted again and whited over again. I was utterly frustrated with myself and the process. Finally, I painted a fairly simple scene of a path cutting through some rolling hills warmed by sunlight with some little red and yellow flowers sprinkled throughout. It was so simple in comparison to my original sketches that I questioned myself as an artist. I felt like I wasn’t “good enough” to paint what I wanted to paint and prayed that Julie would somehow like it anyway.
I reached out to Julie to schedule the reveal, but she was on a bicycle trip in Nebraska. So we decided to wait until she returned in ten days before I revealed it to her so she would not be distracted. I waited. Somewhere in that week, I decided I wanted to put some larger flowers in the foreground. I mixed up some paint that I thought matched the red flowers and began to paint some larger flowers. But the paint color was wrong and turned out more purple rather than red. I had a choice to make.. Either try to remix the paint and match the red or continue with the purple and cover all the original red flowers with the purple. I chose the latter.
On the day I revealed the painting to Julie, I texted to her a photo of it while we spoke on the phone. She burst into tears. She told me how the scene was the exact picture of a scene she had just come across while on her cycling trip. She had even stopped her partner Mark and asked him to look at it saying “this scene represents me, it reminds me of my whole childhood growing up in Iowa.” Now she told me “The painting was the exact picture of it, right down to the purple flowers”.
This was a powerful project for me. It taught me to trust. It taught me that my art was really coming from something beyond myself and to let go and let that happen.
Julie’s partner Mark, a wood craftsman, made a beautiful frame for the project and the gift was presented after Sloan was born. There was not a dry eye in the room that day! The painting hangs on the wall above Sloans crib. Julie takes care of her granddaughter twice a week. Together, they look at the painting and Julie reads pieces of the poem to her.
I love to imagine them walking on the path holding hands and then Sloan growing up and walking her own path of a beautiful future.