The day I declared, “I am an artist,” I unknowingly did something that would unexpectedly open a gateway, not in the outside world, but deep within my inner landscape. That doorway gave my spirit, my imagination, and my heart permission to rise, to move, to express without apology.

When I hear myself say, “My canvas is calling,” I am naming a sacred moment. It is not just a whim, nor a hobby, but a signal—a pulse from within that stirs me toward the imaginal. 

This calling is not about perfection, nor about predictability. It is not about producing something to please the eye of another. It is the quiet, potent courage to let my true presence take hold and simply paint. In this way, art becomes more than my craft; it becomes a demonstration of what I call my authentic authority.

Authority, in this sense, is not control or dominance. It is a natural sense of being aligned with my deepest truth. I let go and trust what moves me and moves through me. When I listen to the call of my canvas, I honour the mysterious current that I guess runs through every artist—a whisper that insists I am more than a maker of things, I am a vessel for something eternal. And by the way, I had no idea that embodying my artist archetype would emerge with such emotional potency.

To answer this call is to give myself to the process of my visionary archetype. To trust that even the mess or accident has meaning. I am beginning to trust that when my canvas calls, it’s because I am ready to let my presence become visible, to let my soul become form, and to let art be the language of my freedom.

Because somewhere deep within me, I know that Art is Life and Life is Art

Heart to Heart, Elizabeth