RaTophy - sky to earth, the transmission and story of her creation.
Journal notes ~ Video & Audio diary transcriptions ~ photos
May 1 - 2025
I was in the forest of the southwest of Western Australia, on some very special land known as Wellspring that my friend Kaz owns. I’ve spent many years on my beloved friend Kaz’s property painting, connecting to the earth, singing around the campfire and going on bushwalks. This trip was the beginning of the creation process I call anchoring for a private commission painting.
After about two and a half hours driving from Perth, I arrived. I unpacked the paints, rolled canvas, and an altar of deities, framed masters and spirit animal guides that I work with, along with incense blends and candles. Everything was carried into the shed, ready to adorn the space and mark the start of this piece.
During the anchoring process I found myself outdoors in the forest, dancing to music and playing with the winds. As I moved, glimpses of the transmission began to come through from the sky. I drew the first concept in the sand where I was dancing. With my feet I traced a circle, then twirled in the middle to make a dot. When I stepped back, I saw diamond shapes rippling outward from the centre, and I traced them with my fingers.
“What I just saw… it’s all coming together. There are diamonds, from smaller to larger, and within them expanding outward are circles. It’s like two designs layered over one another, almost like a mirage. I’ve never done anything like this before. There’s something about this piece that feels like it will bring everything together, which is so exciting.”
Day 3
The base of the painting had been laid down. It took the form of eight sections of different earth colours, separated by copper lines that intersected like a star at the centre. The vanishing point was the middle of the canvas. At this stage the energy coming through was strong earth currents, a grounding base that felt like peering beneath the surface into the rich colours and copper veins bonded in the crust of the earth.
Audio Diary – May 29
Something I have really learnt to do as a divination artist is trust the process. There are only a few times when I’ve started a piece and thought, this is going to be great. Most of the time, when I first begin, I catch myself thinking, oh dear, what have I done? This looks terrible. This is a disaster. I exaggerate, but those are the honest thoughts that run through my head.
Time and time again I’m reminded that this reaction comes from my human tendency to judge too quickly. Because I’m working with spirit, I’m not here to measure the work against my own preconceived expectations of art. My role is to simply allow the channel to come through. Of course, being human, I want to evaluate what’s in front of me, but every time I’m reminded: let go, enjoy, and learn from the process.
This is something I especially wrestle with when I’m doing commissions. I want to keep clients updated, but at the same time I don’t want to share too early and risk them losing faith in the piece before it starts looking “good.” I often hold off and wait until the painting looks more formed. The truth is, the beginning stages rarely look the way you want them to. You often have no idea what the final outcome will be. But the fact that you keep walking, keep showing up, keep adding, keep trusting—that’s what it’s all about. Eventually, something beautiful emerges.
The metaphor here is simple: don’t judge too quickly. Allow the beauty of what’s unfolding to reveal itself in its own time.
That’s where I’m at today. I’ve been adding more layers and enriching the colours already on the canvas. I’ve also begun painting sharper edges and more distinct lines, and it’s starting to take shape in a new way. I still don’t know what the final vision is. Some pieces arrive as clear images in my mind before I start, but with others, like this one, nothing. The work comes alive in front of me, and my hands are guided by something beyond myself.
It’s freezing here and the paint takes forever to dry, so I find myself sitting with the piece, staring at it for long stretches of time. But I have complete trust that the art always prevails—it always does.
So this is where things are at: the eight segments are there, the cross and the diagonal are in place, and soon many more lines will weave through. The journey continues.
Audio Diary – May 31
The rains have well and truly arrived. The earth is drenched, overflowing with water, and I feel quenched too, like my own thirst has been satisfied just watching the volumes of rain pour in. It’s a beautiful thing to witness. The birds are happy, and I’m happy as well—though a little salty, because as much as I appreciate winter, my heart really does prefer summer.
It’s been a season of contrasts. I made a pot of yummy pumpkin soup today. Abbi and I have been training, and I’ve been painting in between. We also went for a river dip—not exactly a swim, more like cold-water therapy. Abbi has been managing a few training injuries, so the icy water felt like good recovery.
Rivers are always special, but there’s something about them in winter that feels extra magical. When the water is cold and mist floats gently over the surface, and the wind brushes through the trees, the leftover rain drips down in little ripples across the river. It’s such a quiet, sacred sight.
That’s been life lately. For me, it’s about continuing to paint and surrender into the process. This piece is slowly revealing itself, bit by bit. I’ve been getting visions of what it could become, but the early stages always test me the most. It’s constant practice in letting go and trusting what wants to come through.
Life in the cabin, in the bush, moves at such a slow pace. At times I find it hard to drop into that rhythm, because I naturally carry a lot of fast-moving energy. Slowing down, simply being, doesn’t come easily to me. But little by little, I feel myself softening, moulding more into the environment.
That’s the update for now—wet earth, misty rivers, painting, and learning to trust the process.
June 1
I woke early with the sunrise this morning. Dew clung to every surface, dripping from branches and rooftops alike. When the wind moved through, it shook the trees and sent a rain of golden droplets shimmering in the morning light. For a moment, the whole world looked like a fairy wonderland. Everything felt spacious and sweet, divinely perfect in that fleeting breath of time.
My intention was to continue working on Ratophy, but instead I found myself writing. Words poured out as I sat in awe of the earth and the deep connection I feel as a woman to nature.
words:
Breasts,
bare to the earth,
archways and curves,
holy spirit,
I am her.
I am rich beyond words,
blessed upon,
easterly sunrises,
breathtaking because the earth provides everything I’ll ever need.
Water falls from the sky,
the heavens dripping down to the ground,
how divine.
Life bleeds from my body,
falling from the heavens to the ground,
how divine.
June 3 – Video Journal Transcript
Ratophy feels like an enigmatic, divine, chaotic, yet ordered and balanced piece. At first, I thought it carried only two transmissions. There’s the circular earth medicine at the base, which holds the tones and shades of the land here. And then there’s the higher cosmic energy being anchored into the diamond part of the painting — that’s the transmission of source, of spirit, streaming down through the work.
But lately I’ve been shown there’s another transmission woven through, blending itself in. So in fact, there are three transmissions alive in this painting, and that’s just so exciting to me.
So I’ve been painting away, layering them in. And honestly — I’ve been freezing my tits off. I keep complaining about it, because I’m not a winter girl. Never have been. I just don’t like it. But here we are.
June 4 – Video Journal Transcript
I’ve been going inward with this painting. It’s required me to surrender so much back to God and Spirit, so that I can better hear what the piece itself wants to say. I’m still in the process of understanding what exactly it’s asking of me, but there’s a mantra that keeps repeating through me:
Om Namah Shivaya Guruve
Satchidananda Murtaye
Nishprapanchaya Shantaya
Sri Sivananda Namah Om
This is a connection to truth and bliss, and a remembering of our soul’s purpose. It’s the reminder that we already have everything we need. We already are enough.
When we’re spiritually fed, when we swim in that essence more than we lean into the materialistic pull of wealth and desire, there’s a sweet bliss that returns to us. That’s what today has reminded me of — to let go and remember what’s real.
Video journal transcript mantra insight
ॐ नमः शिवाय गुरु वे सच्चिदानन्द मूर्तये।
निश्च्रयप्रदायिने आत्मसम्स्थाय शान्ताय श्री शिवाय नमो नमः॥
Om Namah Shivaya Guruve
Satchidananda Murtaye
Nishprapanchaya Shantaya
Sri Sivananda Namah Om
At its heart, this mantra is a bowing of reverence — not only to Shiva, but also to the Guru, the teacher, and the guiding presence within.
It begins with Om Namah Shivaya Guruve: “I bow to the Guru, who is none other than Shiva.” This reminds me that the highest teacher is never outside of us. The Guru is consciousness itself, alive within.
Satchidananda Murtaye follows, describing the Guru–Shiva as the embodiment of Sat, Chit, and Ananda: truth, consciousness, and bliss. These three qualities are the very nature of ultimate reality — the undeniable fact of existence, the awareness that never fades, and the bliss that arises when we are aligned with our true Self.
Then comes Nishprapanchaya Shantaya: “to the One who is beyond the play of the world, ever peaceful.” It speaks to that deep stillness beneath the noise and constant change of life, the quiet ground of being that never wavers.
Finally, the mantra closes with Sri Sivananda Namah Om — salutations to that auspicious presence of Shiva, the eternal source of grace and bliss.
Chanting this mantra feels like more than repeating sacred words. It’s an act of alignment, a way of tuning my whole being back to truth, consciousness, and bliss. It’s a bowing — through sound, through breath, through heart — to the inner teacher and the universal source.
June 5
Kaz, in his brilliant and practical ways, insisted that I put a big wooden board over the glass table in the shed so the canvas could lie flat instead of spilling off the sides. We went over to another shed and carried back a heavy plywood sheet to set it up where I’ve been working. I felt such gratitude. I am always looked after. I need the bush, and here I am — in the forest, with a man who lets me use his whole shed and cabin as both studio and home for the month. Blessed.
As I worked today, the sounds of the red-tailed black cockatoos circled me. Their calls felt like a presence, almost guiding the rhythm of my brush. And in the quiet of painting Ratophy, I was also preparing myself mentally for New York at the end of the month. In just a few short weeks, I’ll be far away from this homeland, away from the soft bliss of the bush.
There were moments of realization today — that this art is powerful, and to serve as a conduit for it is something I chose many lifetimes ago. Only recently have I begun to wake up to the true magnitude of that choice, and its importance in this time and place. Alongside the beauty, though, I’ve also been battling anxiety. I’m terrified of flying, and with nearly eight flights ahead of me, almost fifty hours in the air, the thought lingers heavily. I cried booking my flights and had a tantrum. Abbi was trying to help me bless her. When she left to go down to the next town for some food - I sat back in my chair and just said fuck it, I am not going. It’s not worth this stress. The next day I booked my flights, made a Itinerary and assured myself that it IS worth the stress and I can do this. Even if I am scared.
Back to the art - so today on the canvas, I focused on the black lines, making sure everything looked evenly balanced. I added the golden diamond framing over the base of the circular medicine wheel and began layering cobalt blue over the dots of gold. The hours slipped by.
By sunset I walked out across the rolling hills with Kia. The sky turned molten yellow and orange, and the cockatoos still followed in sound, calling into the evening. I wandered into the forest, letting myself become selectively lost as the light faded. When darkness fell, the waxing moon appeared, glowing through the tall silhouettes of gum trees.
I placed my hands on the bark of a tree and whispered,
connect,
connect,
connect,
connect,
connect.
June 6
This morning, when I unrolled Ratophy, I felt as though I was being pulled into a portal of beauty. A phrase drifted through me:
“Go into the knowings.”
And then the words arose:
Into the forest we go,
touched by her celestial presence,
a transcendental charm,
externally and internally.
Later, my dear sister Juniper arrived, driving up from Vasse — a small town in the South West, just over an hour away. She, too, is an artist and an insanely brilliant one. Juniper is one of the loves of my life. We shared our first exhibition together and spent countless long days and all-nighters side by side, painting.
We both hold a deep reverence for the forest and for creativity itself. Our hours together were tender and powerful — painting, sitting by the fire, enjoying hot cacao & embracing the gift of presence, knowing it might be a while before we see one another again. The conversations we shared were less like dialogue and more like a vista of truth, revelation, and awakening. With the right people, words aren’t always remembered — but the shift they spark inside you remains.
We shared a little mushroom medicine, and later walked together to the river. I had some greens for the first time sitting on a rock in the river and didn’t really like it - made me very unproductive all day.
June 8
Sisters,
artists,
a shared session.
Abbi returned from her trip to Margaret River, and the three of us gathered in the shed — creating together.
June 10 – Video Diary Transcript
This morning, I woke to an unexpected storm. It wasn’t meant to be raining, but some freak storm rolled through, and I ran down to the shed around 5 or 6 a.m. to check on my painting — and it was soaked. Even though it was under cover, everything leaks, and the canvas had absorbed water. I dried it as best I could and set it in a safe spot under the table, trying to protect it while it dried. Winter is brutal sometimes, and I just didn’t know how to deal with it.
A few hours later, things looked better. Surprisingly, the painting wasn’t damaged at all! I reminded myself, especially for early-career artists, that you have to make do with what you’ve got, or improvise with what’s available. I dream of having the perfect art studio but the reality is right now it’s not available.
Today’s focus was adding more copper paint. I mixed stunning pigments with pouring medium to layer over the top. The copper was chosen to tie in with the chandelier in the Guardians (clients) house, where the piece will be displayed — I wanted Ratophy to resonate with its surroundings. A little bee friend even hovered around while I worked, which felt like a blessing.
I layered the new copper on top of the existing blue tones and gold base, extending the centre transmission outward toward the edges. I was loving the energy coming through. Along the copper lines, I added Pisces Vesica symbol. The Vesica Pisces symbol is an overlap of two circles, represents the convergence of two entities and the creation of a third sacred space, symbolising creation, fertility, and the union of opposites like the spiritual and physical worlds or masculine and feminine energies. Its specific meanings vary by context, often signifying a portal or gateway, a divine birth, or, in a Christian context, Christ's mediating role between heaven and earth. At the centre, a four-point eye appeared. It looks like a lucky eye radiating in four directions. On the outer part of the central transmission, four points also came forth, suggesting a ceremonial blessing of the four directions.
I personally love working with the four directions. They represent the elementals of Earth and the four sacred totem animals, which I often call in during ceremony. Today was about adding more and more layers, deepening the energy, and honouring those connections.
June 10 – Diary Entry
All this time here, the land has been sprouting mushrooms. I am surrounded by their magic, blooming everywhere like confetti scattered across the forest by a playful wizard. Over the past few days, I have been gifted with some very special medicine to work with. The cold, freezing weather has made it hard to concentrate on art at times, yet so much has been unfolding in my inner world. I feel the timing supporting me, guiding inward realisations and deep reflection.
The art always leads me into these pockets of processing, these currents where transmissions want to flow through. For them to manifest in physical form, my body must be aligned to receive them. If I am blocked, or not open to the current of light being drawn in, I cannot paint. Often, it feels like something is gently forcing me into a state of full awareness and surrender, and I do not always know what I am going to process — it simply unfolds as it is meant to.
Being out here in the bush, just before leaving for America, I know the mushrooms have found me to assist. I hold deep respect for these plant medicines, which have been walking with humanity since the beginning of time.
My world has been shaken and reshaped so that Spirit can use me as a vessel for these transmissions. God bless.
June 11 – Diary Entry
Ratophy is still very much a work in progress. I had hoped to finish it before leaving for America, but she’s not ready yet. I am proud of how much has been painted here in the forest.
It is time to head back to Perth to continue working, as the forecast predicts storms all week from tomorrow. That will make painting outdoors impossible. Still, I am immensely grateful for the opportunity to paint barefoot on the earth, to connect deeply with the land, and to build yet another intimate relationship with a painting.
June 11 – Video Diary Transcript
Today is officially the last full day I’ll be here, and it feels like the perfect day to make the most of the sun. For the next few days, the forecast predicts wet and sketchy weather, so it’s time to head out. But right now, painting like this outdoors, with nothing overhead is totally my ideal studio. The paint dries quickly in the sun, which for me is amazing. Most artists might find that stressful, but I love it. It allows me to layer faster and work without smudging, moving with the piece as it unfolds.
Yesterday, progress was slow. I managed only a little around the two center piece circles. The cold made it hard to concentrate; my hands were stiff and icy. Winter slows everything down, but today is a blessing. The sun is out, the air is fresh, and the “sun codes” — the frequency and resonance of sunlight — feel like they’re directly nourishing the canvas. The energy of the day is perfect, and I’m grateful for it.
I went for a glorious bush hike with Kaz, Abbi, and Kia. We soaked in the moonlight, wandered beneath the giant trees, laughed, Kaz even brought his ukelale. Totally authentically Kaz! We gazed up at the night sky. It was quiet, magical, and grounding — a beautiful close to these weeks in the forest.
August 30 – Post-Travel Reflections
After travels to Cairns, New York City, and London, I brought Ratophy home after having her stretched. There’s something profoundly grounding about returning to a beloved work after being away — a mix of anticipation and relief.
From my video diary that day:
“Capturing these things — these visions — is about doing it now. We have the ability to manifest them into physical form in a tangible way, and I am so here for it. To embody the creative energy within us is a direct link to manifestation.
We are living in the era of the artist, as I like to say. I never imagined I’d be an artist, yet life takes you on the most unexpected, wacky roads. Before you know it, you’re walking a path you never thought possible.. and that, in itself, is a miracle. The spontaneity, the surprise, the unpredictability — that is the joy of being human. Bless this earthwalk we’re all on, and remember to carry gratitude, because not everyone is as fortunate as we are.”
September 11 – Video Diary Transcriptions // Post USA/ UK travels
Morning, 9:10 a.m.
Today I focused on the copper pigments. I mixed them with medium and began outlining the blue energy waves from the center to the edges of the painting. After finishing this, I’ll continue layering the centerpiece, adding intricacies with golden “soul language” and building up the dots. Some of the dots have been temperamental after stretching the canvas, so today is also about editing and refining. On top of that, I’ll be checking out a trailer that could potentially be my mobile art studio.
Afternoon - 1:00 p.m.
Cleaning up the edges with the copper lining. From a distance, it’s subtle, but it ties the outer edges to the inner part of the painting and makes everything feel cleaner and more cohesive.
Late afternoon - 4:30 p.m.
All the lines are done. Now I’m adding black layering over the blue dots and continuing the never-ending process of layering more dots. It feels like progress, even if slow. The outer parts are looking cleaner, and the inner rings are mostly finished, though a few lines are still missing. I’m feeling good. There’s a real chance Ratophy could be completed by tomorrow or Friday. My goal is to have her finished, sealed, and packed by the weekend.
September 12
Finished! Five months in the making, and she’s complete. It feels incredible to now only varnish, pack her up, and prepare for delivery. A mini celebration unfolded this afternoon & the whole family applauded and shared in the joy. Thank you, Nan, Gramps, Abbi and Kia for being part of this moment.
I am deeply grateful for all the support from my loved ones. You may not realise just how far it carries me. Here’s to more of this, paintings born from the visions of the land and the sky.
