Life has a way of calling us back to our truest selves, often through the most unexpected and painful passages. As a career counselor with a master's degree in counseling, I had built a profession helping others navigate their life paths. Yet, beneath the surface of my strategically constructed world, my creative spirit was quietly whispering—patient, persistent, longing to be heard.

 

My artistic journey began early, weaving through childhood, grade school, and college, where I explored various mediums without settling on a specific style. Though I received an undergraduate degree in art, years of conforming to external expectations gradually silenced my creative intuition. The structured world of career counseling became my safe harbor—a place where I found joy in guiding others, even as my own creative spirit remained dormant.

 

Then came the earth-shattering losses that would reshape everything.

 

Within a short span, I lost both my parents to cancer, watched my best friend succumb to a serious illness, and witnessed the global upheaval of a pandemic. These experiences were more than personal tragedies—they were a cosmic invitation to reevaluate my entire approach to life, to creativity, to meaning itself.

 

Exhausted and burned out, I took a leap of faith. I left my secure university job without a clear destination, only a profound knowing that something needed to change. The transition was unsettling. Despite planning to rest and reflect, I felt immense pressure to immediately "figure everything out." Familiar patterns pulled me back—I started a career coaching practice that felt safe but no longer felt right. My inner artist continued to wait, quietly persistent.

 

A transformative trip to Bali became my turning point. A friend's gift of a yantra (a specific type of mandala) workbook sparked an unexpected creative resurrection. The mathematical precision of mandala creation both intimidated and intrigued me. What began as a structured, technical experiment gradually transformed into a deeply meditative practice.

 

In these moments of focused creation, I discovered more than an artistic medium. I found a language of healing—a way to process grief, to find order in chaos, to reconnect with myself. The same analytical skills that had guided students through professional challenges now guided my creative process. Precision transformed into poetry. Calculation merged with intuition. Each symmetrical pattern became a meditation, each creative choice a moment of pure presence.

 

The losses I experienced stripped away illusions of control, revealing a deeper truth: creativity is not about perfection, but about presence. The constant mental chatter—self-doubt, endless to-do lists, echoes of past expectations—began to quiet. I was no longer fighting against myself but moving in harmony with the creative process.

 

My mission emerges from this landscape of healing and discovery. Every creation is both a personal meditation and an offering—a way to cultivate inner peace while creating space for others to slow down, to breathe, to reconnect with their most authentic creative expression. Where I once helped students map professional journeys, I now illuminate a different path—one that winds through creativity, self-discovery, and the profound wisdom of artistic presence.

 

When you encounter my work, I hope you'll see more than geometric precision. See a journey of transformation. A testament to the power of creativity in healing. A reminder that our most profound growth often happens in moments of unexpected focus.

 

This is my story of coming home—through loss, through art, to the truest, most honest version of myself.