A passion for paper and everything in between

“Do I need this? I think not…or do I”

Reposted from A Substack Article dated JUN 20, 2026

I have a passion for paper.

I must confess—I am absolutely the person who has files, bins, and boxes filled with bits and pieces I’ve been saving for years, waiting for the perfect moment to go through them. Sometimes I finally do and think, Oh…I don’t really need this anymore.

Or do I?

Can you relate?

Let me tell you a little story.

I’ve been pining for and purposing paper for as long as I can remember. As a little girl, I secretly tucked away my hopes, wishes, and deepest thoughts in what we proudly called our diaries back then. (Can we even call them diaries anymore?)

These days, not much has changed.

I might tear open a beautiful box of cookies or a package of my favorite crispy snack, only to find myself admiring the artwork more than what’s inside. A tiny illustration of Mother Earth. A family gathered beneath a tree. A bird perched on a branch. Before I know it, my imagination is off and running.

“Where does this belong?”

Could it brighten a recipe journal?

A scrapbook?

My wellness notebook?

A future workshop?

A vision board?

My brain doesn’t see scraps of paper.

It sees possibility.

And that’s when I realized…

Somewhere along the way, I wasn’t collecting paper at all.

I was collecting possibilities.

I have bins and boxes filled with saved paper, greeting cards, photographs, magazine clippings, and beautiful catalogues from years ago—especially from the time when I dreamt of opening a spiritual center—I can now look back and smile because well I did.

Maybe those vision boards, those little treasure maps of hope, were quietly working while I was simply living my life. Something to ponder, isn’t it?

Because almost every splendid piece of paper is like a seed in the garden.Some are waiting to bloom.Some are ready to return to the earth.

Whenever I pick one up, I find myself asking…

Where does this belong?

What story is waiting to be told?

What life might grow from this?

Over the years, paper has become much more than something I collect.It has become part of my personal practice. It’s something I share with my one-on-one clients, my workshops, and the circles I gather.

Together, we’ve written dreams that needed remembering. We’ve written fears that were ready to be released.We’ve burned old stories in Phoenix fires and watched people rise lighter, freer, and transformed.Because paper has a remarkable way of holding both what we long for…and what we’re ready to let go of.

I don’t think it really matters what we do with the paper. Technology continues to change the world, yet there is still something sacred about the written word.

A handwritten letter.

A journal entry.

A birthday card.

A tiny scrap rescued from the recycling bin and given new life.

Each one becomes an offering.A reminder.A blessing.A smile for someone who needs one. A reminder that Paper is not going anywhere anytime soon.

So let me ask you…

Do you have a box tucked away somewhere?A drawer filled with old cards, photographs, recipes, poems, sketches, dreams, and scraps you’ve been saving “just in case”?

Do you find yourself longing to capture a thought…an image…a memory…

or a song that keeps whispering from somewhere deep within?

Perhaps the paper is simply waiting to help tell a story that has not yet been fully expressed.

Through the years, I’ve discovered that creativity has a beautiful way of revealing what our hearts already know.

A journal page.

A scrapbook.

A vision board.

A handwritten letter.

Even the smallest scrap of paper can become a doorway into healing, self-understanding, and purpose.

Paper listens without interruption.

Let me say that again and let me end this with this reflection again:

Paper listens without interruption. (wink wink)

🕯️ Candles Lit This Week**

As we welcome the Summer Solstice—the longest day of the year—we gather around the hearth in gratitude for all that has come into the light.

This sacred turning of the seasons reminds us that while the sun reaches its fullest expression, it also quietly invites us to begin turning inward, asking what we wish to carry into the months ahead.

This week I’m lighting candles for…

✨ The little scraps we almost throw away.

✨ Possibilities waiting patiently in forgotten boxes.

✨ Words finding their way home on paper.

✨ Phoenix fires that make room for new beginnings. (An especially lovely and helpful ritual to be done at the crossroads and cusps in life) such as the summer solstice.

✨ Creative hearts willing to begin again.

If the Summer Solstice has always stirred something in your soul, I’ve gathered a few reflections on the season about its beauty, symbolism, and its sacred fire over on my website. I’d love for you to continue the journey there

The Creative Pilgrimage Home to Yourself

Perhaps this is why paper has always mattered to me. It has never really been about the paper. It has been about paying attention.

Listening.

Remembering.

Making meaning.

And I can’t think of a more beautiful season to begin that journey than the Summer Solstice, when the light reminds us to honor what is ready to grow and the hearth reminds us there is always a place to come home to.

This summer, I’m opening the doors to The Creative Hearth—a space within the Heart Center where Spirit and Heart spark healing through art, sound, nature, and the simple act of creating together.

I’m inviting a small number of kindred spirits to join me as we explore journaling, scrapbooking, storytelling, imagery, and creative practices that help uncover what is stirring beneath the surface and longing to be expressed.

Some journeys may unfold one-on-one.

Others may happen in small circles.

Each will be guided by what feels most meaningful for those who gather.

Think of it as a creative pilgrimage back to yourself.

A place to listen.

To imagine.

To remember.

To give voice to what matters most.

If something inside you whispered *yes* while reading these words…

I’d love to hear from you.

We will pour ourselves some tea and pour our hearts out into our ART

Come sit by the fire.

The Hearth is always lit…..for you.

With love and heart,

Renee