We’re leaving town right now. Driving to Ohio to be with family to celebrate the life of my husband’s grandfather, who died just a few days ago. The man who had a head full of white hair and strong hands. The man who was an orphan. The man who told me he loved me the very first time I met him.

I don’t think it’s coincidental that we’ve started a new month of exploration with The Art Journaler Community. Coming out of hibernation, tracking bears, listening to whispers and wishes that once laid dormant but want to come alive now if only we could tap into that bear strength.

So I set out in motion, my physical mirroring my spiritual to see what awaits for me in the great outdoors.

It’s also no coincidence that I’m nearing the end of writing my first draft of a book about going home. I know these short few days around my hometown will bring the final insights I’m needing.

As we drive my six-year-old tells me he has started writing a story. Can he read it to me?

He starts reading.

“I once saw a big big big bear. The bear loved me, but the bear was not trained and he ran away. I was looking for him everywhere.”

Do I need to tell you that my eyes filled with tears as he read? My life is filled with such delicious synchronicity. My son tells me he thinks the story is a #secretmessage for me. He had no clue we were doing #beartracking for The Art Journaler.

I want to invite you to join us for March. You don’t have to know a thing about art journaling. You just need a spirit for adventure and a desire to listen to internal whispers. I know this is going to be good. I have goosebumps and tears this morning. I’m out tracking. Come with me!