How Spirit Revealed the Story of my Becoming

The Traveling Art Mystic: The Story Was Already Being Written

How twenty days in Sandusky, Ohio transformed a dream of traveling, creating, and serving into something I could finally touch.

I went to Ohio to paint a fence. At least, that was the plan.

I packed my brushes, ceremonial tools, Sacred Wheel pages, clothes, courage, curiosity, and enough of myself to live inside someone else's world for twenty days. I boarded a red-eye flight bound for Sandusky with a question accompanying me around the Wheel: How does Spirit reveal the story of my becoming through this journey?

I thought I was embarking on an adventure. What I didn't yet understand was that the adventure had already begun.

The Call: The Story Is Already Being Written

The Wheel gave me four cards to carry through my twenty days. Beauty landed in the South, bringing my emotional heart into the physical world and asking me to experience spirituality through relationship and everyday life. Evolution appeared in the West with a surprising proposition: perhaps I didn't have to evolve through struggle anymore. Perhaps pleasure, embodiment, delight, and joy could change me too.

Legacy arrived in the North, asking me to notice the lives touching mine and the lives I touched in return. Legacy wasn't merely something I would someday leave behind. It was the invisible wake of my presence. Dream completed the Wheel in the East with an invitation that would become increasingly important: I didn't have to chase every possibility. I could simply be Julie wherever I went and allow the right dreams to gather around me.

The message was clear: The story is already being written. My presence is how I honor it.

Then Spirit immediately began testing the theory.

I arrived exhausted after traveling all night without sleep, crossing time zones, and landing in an unfamiliar environment. My grand adventure began not with a paintbrush or ceremony, but with an extraordinary amount of sleep. There was a time when I might have considered that wasted time. Instead, I let myself recover. That was my first glimpse of Evolution. Becoming didn't require pushing myself past exhaustion to prove I could do this. Rest wasn't interfering with the adventure. Rest was part of the adventure.

Slowly, I nested into the home of my dear friend, gracious host, and owner of Apotho'Corrie. I befriended the animals (1 dog, 2 cats, and 5 chickens), learned the household rhythms, made my temporary space comfortable, colored, rested, talked, and observed. I let myself arrive.

Even an unexpectedly dramatic haircut became part of the lesson. Before I left, a friend cut considerably more than I anticipated. Rather than immediately deciding it was a catastrophe, I gave myself time to adjust. Eventually, I began appreciating the all-one-length cut and imagining it growing long again. Observe. Acclimate. Let things settle before deciding what they mean. That little lesson would become enormously useful, because almost nothing about this journey was going to unfold exactly as planned.

Crossing the Threshold

The first moment when I truly felt the Traveling Art Mystic step forward came around a sacred fire. At a Full Moon ceremony, I smudged, prayed, held space, taught the Wheel, shared perspective, and co-facilitated ceremony. Something shifted. I wasn't practicing for a future version of myself. I wasn't wondering whether someday I might become a woman who travels into communities carrying art, ceremony, teaching, and healing. I was doing it.

Beauty became connection. Evolution became delight. Legacy began appearing in the ways my knowledge and presence served other people. Dream started opening doors I hadn't gone looking for. One conversation at that ceremony unexpectedly led to an invitation to create murals at a facility in a neighboring town. Well, hello there. I had arrived with one particular vision of the work I would do in Ohio, and Spirit was already showing me that the landscape was considerably larger than the itinerary.

Yet when I looked back on that night, the image I most wanted to remember wasn't the potential business opportunity. It was four people around a sacred fire, holding hands and sending love around the circle. That distinction mattered. The opportunity was wonderful, but Connection was the treasure.

Somewhere beneath it all, Spirit seemed to whisper, You're doing it, little lion.

Learning to Belong Wherever I Am

The next initiation involved something considerably less mystical: driving a large unfamiliar truck through an unfamiliar city. Plans had changed. Supplies were needed. Someone needed transportation. My peaceful sketching day suddenly became something entirely different, so I shifted gears, literally and figuratively. I got what I needed, helped someone else, enjoyed meaningful conversation, and discovered yet again that a changed plan didn't necessarily mean something had gone wrong.

Then the rain came and painting became impossible. Instead, I accompanied my friend to a vendor show, where I talked with strangers, shared my business card, noticed curiosities, met new people, and played a wonderfully ridiculous bullseye game with a six-year-old. We named the rings, shouted their names together whenever we hit them, and laughed. A rainy day that could have become a disappointment became community.

Then about fifty vultures flew overhead. A kettle of vultures, I learned, because apparently the Traveling Art Mystic's adventures occasionally require looking up the collective nouns for enormous birds circling overhead. Or more precisely, tasking her son to discover the name.

The message underneath that day was wonderfully simple: You belong wherever you are.

That realization changed something in me. Travel didn't have to mean continually searching for where I fit. I could arrive somewhere new, remain centered in myself, connect authentically, and allow belonging to grow through presence. I didn't have to recreate home everywhere I went. I could carry home within me.

The Bridge Must Come With Me

Not every lesson arrived through laughter. One night I dreamed of two vulnerable kittens left on an inaccessible plateau. I knew they needed a bridge to safety, yet I returned with it too late. They were gone, and I awoke heartbroken.

As I sat with the dream, I wondered whether those kittens represented something tender, innocent, vulnerable, or newly emerging within me. In all the excitement of adventure, service, creativity, connection, and becoming, was there something within me that still needed my protection? The dream didn't feel like condemnation. It felt like an invitation.

Becoming does not mean abandoning what is tender in pursuit of what is exciting. The bridge must come with me.

That became an essential teaching for the Traveling Art Mystic. I can travel widely without leaving myself behind. I can rest when I'm tired, listen when my body speaks, decline what doesn't nourish me without judging someone else's choices, and protect my quiet inner places while still saying yes to adventure. I can let my practices support my life without turning them into another obligation. The vulnerable parts of me don't need another taskmaster. They need me.

Then I Put Paint on the Fence

Eventually, the rain stopped. For a few days. The naked fence was waiting, and I was ready.

Then, just before making the first stroke, I got nervous.

That wasn't entirely unusual. What was unusual was the way I responded. I didn't criticize the anxiety or tell myself a "real" muralist shouldn't feel nervous. I didn't wait for confidence to magically arrive. I watched the jitters, became curious about them, and let them exist.

Then I painted.

That moment was quietly enormous. I didn't have to conquer fear before moving forward. I could bring fear with me and let a wiser part of myself hold the brush. Once I began, an old knowing returned almost immediately: Muraling is what I am supposed to be doing.

The instruction I felt from Spirit wasn't to hurry, prove myself, or make something impressive. It was, Take your time and enjoy it. So I did. Or at least, I practiced.

The Checkerboard Initiation

Then came the checkers. Oh, those checkers.

My beautiful design had seemed perfectly reasonable on paper. Translating a swirling geometric checkerboard across rough fence boards, posts, beams, gaps, and uneven surfaces was another matter entirely. Lines wandered, measurements became complicated, precision got slippery, and my confidence wobbled. My usual instinct would have been to tighten everything, correct every mark, and demand perfection from the earliest stages.

Instead, I learned something extraordinarily useful: Not every stage of the process needs to be beautiful. Much of the rough work would eventually be covered by paint. I was spending energy perfecting things that didn't require perfection, so I loosened my grip and trusted the unfolding.

The next day, I admitted something even more difficult: I genuinely wasn't sure I could pull off the design I had envisioned. Naming that fear was liberating. I didn't know exactly how to do it. Okay. Then I would learn.

I painted for more than nine hours that day. I experimented, solved mathematical problems, figured out how patterns moved over beams and posts, and persisted. Somewhere in the middle of all that paint, uncertainty, problem-solving, and stubborn curiosity, confidence changed its meaning. Confidence was no longer knowing I could do something because I'd done it before. Confidence became trusting myself to remain with something long enough to figure it out.

That was a very different kind of power. My strong, capable body carried me through a nine-hour painting day. Hallelujah! The checkerboard that had intimidated me began becoming evidence of my capability. The mural was teaching me how to mural, while the journey was teaching me how to journey.

Evolution Through Joy

Then I had a birthday. Not just any birthday, MY birthday.

After all that concentration and work, the cards gave me Flow and Humor. Spirit apparently had plans, because I went to Cedar Point. This was a bucket-list destination that had been staring at me since I was a teenager, and my inner child was beside herself.

Naturally, we arrived much later than planned. Earlier versions of me might have spent precious energy being annoyed that we hadn't gotten there when the park opened. Instead, I reminded my pouty inner child that the delay had given my body extra time for self-care. Then I let her loose.

She squealed on roller coasters, delighted in everything, bought herself a hoodie, rode Valravn, ate red velvet cake, and had a glorious time. My chapter word for that day became Wee. Perfect. Can you dig it? I could dig it.

Evolution had promised me at the beginning of this journey that transformation could come through pleasure, embodiment, delight, and joy. There I was, hurtling down the track of a roller coaster, living the lesson.

The Road Begins Appearing

A rainy day soon brought me to Humble Gardens in Oak Harbor. From the moment I arrived, the place felt magical. I explored for hours. I talked. I imagined. I connected. Everywhere I looked, I saw potential.

Then I found a room I could mural.

A conversation became an invitation to return in the spring, with travel provided and a place to stay. Suddenly this wasn't merely an interesting connection. A future journey was beginning to take shape. Once again, I hadn't chased it. I had followed relationship, curiosity, ceremony, and connection until another piece of the road appeared beneath my feet.

Dream and Legacy were beginning to dance together. The original Wheel had told me I didn't need to chase every possibility. The right dreams could gather around me. Apparently, they had been listening.

I Bring All of Myself

One morning, over coffee, sunshine, animals, and Sacred cards, my host and I spent more than an hour talking about the Wheel. Something awakened. I became excited again about teaching Wheel classes. A possible name, Attributes of Balance, seemed to arrive out of nowhere.

That conversation helped me understand something important about the Traveling Art Mystic. I don't travel only as a muralist. I bring all of myself. The artist comes. The shamanic practitioner comes. The health coach comes. The teacher comes. The woman who sits over coffee talking about the Wheel comes. The storyteller, the playful inner child, the woman who notices hawks, feathers, spiders, vultures, and synchronicities, the one who prays, and the one who laughs all come too. All the many facets of me are there.

The one who occasionally has to hose slimy chicken offerings away from her sacred mural workspace comes too. Apparently, enlightenment has range. Those chickens brought me joy as well, cracking my up every day with their cackles and clucks.

My art, ceremony, coaching, cards, perspective, conversation, spirituality, humor, and connection aren't separate businesses I need to drag around behind me. They are facets of the same offering. They are me.

And Then There Was Tammy

Rain interrupted the mural again. By this point, I had finally gotten the message. Rain didn't mean nothing was happening. Rain meant something else was happening.

So, my friend and I talked, brainstormed, played with ideas, discussed the Wheel, and imagined what the Traveling Art Mystic might look like in an even more literal, mobile form. Then a thought appeared. I already owned a vehicle I loved. What if I converted my Ford Escape into a tiny camper? I’m a small person, how much space do I need? What if I didn't need to wait for some mythical future van, perfect circumstances, or enormous budget? What if I started with what I already had?

Suddenly the possibility felt ridiculously tangible. Tammy was born (Traveling Art Mystic Mobile, Yeah).

My beloved Ford Escape wasn't merely transportation anymore. She could become Art Mystic mobile. Shorter trial journeys could teach me what worked. I could learn what I needed as I went. Longer journeys could follow. Eventually, the road itself could become part of my studio, sanctuary, classroom, and life.

Dream had moved out of abstraction. I could practically see where the bed would go.

Bullseye

Then came one of the most profound experiences of the entire trip. Another rainy day gave me the opportunity to offer my dear friend a Wheel card reading. I remained open. I listened. I let the cards speak. I offered words when words seemed called for and allowed space when space was needed. Something happened between us that I cannot reduce to a clever explanation. We were both moved to tears.

For a moment, I wondered whether this might have been one of the actual reasons I had come to Ohio. Then she said essentially the same thing aloud. There it was. Bullseye.

The mural mattered. The ceremonies mattered. The connections mattered. Yet here, sitting with someone I loved, I could witness the impact of this work directly. I wasn't merely imagining that the Wheel could help someone. I was watching it happen.

The teaching that emerged was about the threads of our lives weaving together into the tapestry of existence. Suddenly Legacy looked different. Legacy wasn't something waiting for me at the end of my life. Legacy was happening now. It was what shifted in a living room, around a fire, across a table, inside a conversation, or within someone's understanding of herself. It was the invisible wake.

We shared a heart hug afterward, and I knew: I am answering my calling. I'm actually doing it!

The message I felt from Spirit was unmistakable: This is tangible. This is real. You will be provided for. Keep going, little lion.

Good Job, Little Lion

The journey offered one more beautiful confirmation at a New Moon ceremony at Humble Gardens. I arrived ready to serve with presence, joy, grace, prayer, and gratitude. I encouraged people who needed encouragement, learned from everyone around me, and watched meaningful things happen.

I also encountered a drunk man who challenged my heart and required something less romantic than mystical inspiration: discernment. This was spiritual practice too. Could I remain compassionate without becoming naïve? Could I stay centered without becoming rigid? Could I navigate an uncomfortable interaction without losing myself? Somehow, I found the presence and words to meet the moment gracefully enough that we both walked away smiling. Grace had become practical.

That night, the truth came through more clearly than ever: I am where I am meant to be, doing precisely what I am meant to be doing. Spirit seemed to respond, Good job, little lion.

So, I made a declaration. I was ready to fully embody the Traveling Art Mystic and let Spirit guide the path. I would begin creating the connections that could eventually form a roadmap across the country. Before the next Full Moon, I would formally announce myself and offer my services beyond the familiar boundaries of home.

Dream was becoming Legacy.

The Return

Then suddenly, it was my final full day in Sandusky. Leaving was harder than I expected. I had become genuinely comfortable inside another family's home and rhythm. They had welcomed me not merely as a guest but as someone allowed to participate in their life. I had painted there, rested there, laughed there, taught there, learned there, and belonged there.

Travel had given me something I couldn't have received by simply thinking about another way of living. I had experienced myself inside another household, another rhythm, another community. I could notice what changed when familiar tensions were absent. I could notice what I missed and what I didn't miss. I could see what I wanted more of and what I was no longer willing to carry indefinitely.

I didn't return home with all the answers. I returned with clearer vision.

I also genuinely missed home: my garden, my cat, my loved ones, and the places that carry my history and medicine. There was work waiting for me there too. Besides, Tammy wasn't going to manifest herself.

The Elixir I Brought Home

For twenty days, my Sacred Wheel Daily Ceremony Pages traveled with me. They never became another burdensome practice competing with the adventure. They did exactly what I hoped they would do. Each morning, they helped me enter the day consciously without deciding ahead of time what the day needed to mean. Each evening, they helped me gather the golden threads before they disappeared into memory. Twenty days of threads eventually revealed a tapestry.

Beauty taught me that spirituality could become embodied through relationship. I found it in ceremony, animals, family, strangers, children's laughter, food, conversation, physical care, nature, creativity, and the intimacy of being welcomed into another person's home.

Evolution showed me that I can change through delight. Roller coasters changed me. Rain changed me. Painting changed me. Swimming pools changed me. Long walks, friendship, laughter, problem-solving, rest, and play changed me. I have learned plenty through suffering. Perhaps I don't need to keep proving that I can.

Legacy revealed the invisible wake of my presence. I saw it through ceremony, encouragement, Sacred Wheel work, conversation, collaboration, friendship, and teaching. I saw it most clearly during that Wheel reading when something I carry within me became medicine for another person.

Dream did exactly what it promised. I stopped chasing, and the dreams came closer. Murals appeared. Humble Gardens appeared. A future return appeared. Wheel classes reawakened. New friends and communities appeared. New possibilities for my personal life appeared. A national offer of my services began taking shape. Tammy appeared. Future road trips became imaginable. A new friend group formed, and Spiritual Power Hour was born. The roadmap began populating itself.

I Was Already Her

Perhaps the greatest revelation of the entire journey was that none of this required me to become someone else. I wasn't pretending to be the Traveling Art Mystic. I wasn't rehearsing for her. I wasn't gathering enough evidence to someday earn permission to use the name.

I traveled. I painted. I facilitated ceremony. I taught. I encouraged. I listened. I adapted. I rested. I played. I connected. I dreamed. I followed Spirit. I was already her.

There is still work ahead. I have practical affairs to put in order if I want greater freedom. I have a body that deserves care as my work expands. I have tender kittens within me whose bridge must always come along. I have to remember that freedom without integrity isn't freedom and that travel cannot become a form of running away.

I also have to keep trusting provision. That message followed me throughout Ohio: This path is real. You will be provided for. Keep going, little lion.

My responsibility isn't to know every logistical answer before taking the first step. My responsibility is to remain present, make aligned choices, do the work in front of me, care for the woman doing it, and stay available to whatever Spirit places along the road.

Twenty days after asking how Spirit reveals the story of my becoming, I finally understood the question differently. Becoming wasn't about transforming into some upgraded future version of Jules. It was about witnessing more of myself become visible.

The artist became more visible. The shamanic practitioner became more visible. The teacher became more visible. The traveler became more visible. The woman who can create community wherever she lands became more visible. The independent woman contemplating a very different future became more visible. The road became more visible.

Perhaps that is the Hero's Journey after all. I went looking for adventure and discovered I was already living it. I went to paint a fence and found a road. I went wondering who I was becoming and discovered who I already am.

Beauty opened my heart. Evolution let joy change me. Legacy showed me the lives touching mine. Dream allowed the future to gather around me.

The story was already being written.

My presence was how I honored it.

Aho.

Walk the Wheel With Me

Sacred Wheel Daily Ceremony Page:
[LINK TO SACRED WHEEL DAILY CEREMONY PAGE]

The Sacred Wheel Daily Ceremony Pages accompanied me throughout this twenty-day journey, helping me begin each day with intention and gather its lessons each evening. If you'd like to explore the practice for yourself, you can find the pages through Art Mystic Wellness.

Art Mystic Wellness:
[LINK TO ART MYSTIC WELLNESS]

Friends Along the Journey

Apotho'Corrie — Sandusky, Ohio
My dear friend, host, and owner of Apotho'Corrie opened her home, family, community, and heart to me during this adventure. Thank you my dear friend, I love you.
[LINK TO APOTHO'CORRIE]

Humble Gardens — Oak Harbor, Ohio
A magical stop along this journey where ceremony, connection, possibility, and a future mural adventure began taking shape.
[LINK TO HUMBLE GARDENS FaceBook]

The Cards That Traveled with Me

My journey around the Sacred Wheel was supported by the wisdom and teachings found in Lynn Andrews' Power Deck and Sacred Oracle Cards.

Lynn Andrews' Power Deck
[AMAZON PURCHASE LINK]

Lynn Andrews' Sacred Oracle Cards
[AMAZON PURCHASE LINK]

With gratitude to Lynn Andrews and the teachings that continue traveling with me around the Wheel.