Small moments of beauty, creativity, and remembering.

Reposted from a Substack Article from March 6, 2026

I went to school for art… well I should probably say college, but in all honesty I think I went to school for art too. (lol)

I mean, I am not a numbers girl by any means, even though I try to make sense of them. Words? Yes, I can string them together, but not always in the proper educational sense that an English teacher might want from me.

Sometimes I get this funny image of an English High Tea…
Everyone sipping from fancy teacups, pinkies in the air, discussing literature and grammar.

Oh wait… that’s a different kind of English.

If I were in that scenario I’d probably be wandering around the room looking at the paintings on the walls… or the wallpaper… or the colors of the teacups themselves and then go home and figure out how to capture all that beauty and fanfare in Art.

So yes. I really do think I went to school for Art first, and then later pursued it to the next level… which was college.

Growing up I desperately wanted to go to FIT in New York. I couldn’t wait for my parents to bring home the big, lofty New York Times after church on Sundays. (Yes… maybe that was another perk of going to church.)

I would grab the paper, rush home, and dive straight into the Fashion of the Times magazine with paper and pencil in hand… just drawing.

There’s another memory that lives clearly in my mind.

I was sitting on the floor in front of the television watching The Blue and the Gray, sketching those big beautiful busty gowns from the golden days. Once I added a little color… they came alive.

As I got older those fashionista drawings slowly turned into full on hippie scenes, sea, and land animals, as well as landscapes and abstract designs along the way.

Art was my safe place.
My home.

It was the only way I could make sense of what I was seeing, feeling, and experiencing as an adolescent growing into my teenage years.

As a matter of fact, under my yearbook picture it said:

“Art is the imagination running away without leaving home.”

And honestly… I think that sentence has followed me through my whole life.

I ended up getting into college on an art scholarship. Since I couldn’t afford the fashion program, I enrolled in the Studio Art track instead.

And boy… was that a mistake. Now let me say this before I go any further.

I know plenty of people who went to art school and absolutely flourished there. They found their lane, built incredible careers, and I truly admire that. But for me? per usual I couldn’t seem to make the structure of it all work for the way my creativity wanted to move.

Especially when those big boxy computers were introduced as the new way to “create art.”I remember feeling like a wild horse with no outlet for freedom or real creativity.

So eventually… I didn’t make the grade (so to speak), and I never went back for my second year.

Looking back now though — and this is something I’ve been reflecting on a lot in general lately —It wasn’t really the structure itself that was the problem.

What I struggled with was structure that didn’t honor how I naturally moved through the world.

These past few months especially have shown me where this is really important for someone like me. As much as I have always bucked the system, walked the unconventional road, and and thought “I’ll just figure it out myself”…

I know how helpful the right kind of structure can actually be.

The kind that doesn’t box you in… but gently holds the container while your creativity, your healing, and your life finds its way forward.

Funny enough, that realization is a big part of why I’ve come to appreciate the work I have gone back to because of my art and that is coaching. Sometimes we simply need someone to help us hold the frame while we rediscover the picture we’re meant to paint. Especially in those transition periods of our life. Where we are unsure of what the next move is.

These are two recent pieces I did for the 100 days of art experience I am doing.

What I haven’t mentioned yet is that during those high school years there was one woman who saw something in me that I wasn’t quite able to see in myself yet.

And that was My art teacher. She wasn’t just teaching us techniques or assignments. She was teaching us how to see the world differently.

She encouraged curiosity, experimentation, and imagination in a way that made you feel like maybe… just maybe… your creativity actually mattered.

Years went by after graduation, and life took many twists and turns as it does. But somewhere in my early 30s I found myself wandering through a First Friday Art Walk, just casually enjoying the evening.

And there she was in this really cool beatnik looking brick building in all her color and fashionable might. (and light)

My art teacher.

I won’t use her full name here — something in my heart tells me she might prefer the quiet anonymity — but I will say this:

She was one of the most influential women in my life.

She didn’t try to force us into neat little boxes or rigid expectations.

And for someone like me —
who already felt a little like a wild horse trying to find her way through the world that mattered more than she probably ever knew. (I am a Sagittarius you know so full on horse imagery resonates with me) (:

We stayed lightly connected from that chance meeting and months later she even participated in a women’s retreat I hosted by displaying some of her favorite pieces there.

Later still, she gave me two pieces of her art. It is something that still touches me deeply to this day…One is called Heart Energy, and it now hangs right inside our home.

The other is a beautiful piece of Mother Mary, surrounded by sacred imagery.

That one has had quite a journey. It was originally gifted to me years ago when I was asked to help create a sacred meditation space at a church where I worked.

When I eventually left that position, the painting came with me. And now… it lives in our own little church sanctuary.

I haven’t spoken with her in quite some time. But I think about her often.About the quiet way teachers plant seeds they may never fully see grow.

And how sometimes the encouragement someone gives a child… ends up shaping the person they become decades later.

It makes me wonder…

Was there a woman in your life who believed in you early on?

Someone who saw something in you before you fully saw it in yourself?

If someone comes to mind, maybe today is a good day to remember them…
or even thank them.

🕯 Candles Lit This Week at the Hearth

A few quiet offerings from the sanctuary lately:

• Art supplies slowly making their way back onto the tables
• Sacred spaces being refreshed and rearranged
• Little creative stations appearing here and there
• The gentle spark of makers space Crafternoons that reflect the way We Create.

It reminds me that sometimes creativity itself becomes the medicine.

An Open Invitation

If you ever feel called to come sit by the hearth for a bit,
the sanctuary doors are opening again.

Whether it’s for:

• a quiet visit
• a coaching session
• a makers afternoon
• or simply to experience the space

And now the circle seems to be closing in the most beautiful way. Art, reflection, and sacred space slowly finding their way back home

You are always welcome here.

You can learn more or schedule a visit by reaching out to me personally through email, facebook or text at 607-371-1912.

Thank you for reading these Letters from the Hearth.

If this letter touched something in you, feel free to share it with a friend who might enjoy sitting by the hearth too.

May your week hold small moments of beauty, creativity, and remembering.

Renee