A few years ago walking home from the beach I hear a loud voice tell me to stop, turn and look across the harbour to homes on the edge of the sea, it’s the voice of my grandmother. Demanding, firm, wise and loving, for years I listen to her council and am  comforted by her presence.

A series of dreams deepens the message from grandmother as she takes me to the house and shows me living within.

A year later I meet a woman, friend of the deceased owner of this house who asks if I want to see inside.  Lovely experiences like this often come my way.  We had just sold our small farm property and were about to leave on a two month painting retreat in France.

With Grandmothers insistence I contacted the inheritor, perhaps he would rent it to us on our return from France.

He amazingly said yes! and gave us a two year lease. We left for France, our belongings safe in our new home waiting for our occupancy on return. I begin in earnest to ask grandmother why was it so important to live in this house.

The most inspiring dreams occur.

‘I sit in the living room of our new house to be, grandmother beside me, view to the sea directly below.  I feel a huge energy, a surge of power over me and the scene before me.

While in France I journal about these experiences wondering its meaning. Keenly I anticipate our new “grandmother found” home when we return to Canada.

Surely I had tuned into a deeply purposeful source. Returning to Canada our new home with spectacular views over Ganges harbour and sunrises one could weep over, I am truly blessed. Grandmother often comes to me as I sit appreciating the beauty.

A month into our new home protesters begin arriving at the foot of our beach. The owner of the tiny islet before us had decided after more that twenty five years of absence to build the house of his dreams this very month!. A huge team of builders descends on the island and within a few months a structure of architectural wonder was framed several stories high. War canoes come from neighbouring native tribes who proclaim it a sacred burial ground.

Our first year in our new house overlooks a wild native burial islet. It is now a clambering scene of new construction balanced by early morning drumming, chanting and prayers for the ancient ones on the beach below us.

I retreat to Grandmothers message, begin to paint my dream “Releasing Grace” while the outside world battles for ownership. My dreams assure me the release of souls happened. I take no part in sides. I am the observer. With my inside knowledge I dedicate this painting to “Releasing Grace”.

Grace Islet is released back to nature.

Our second summer at this magical home is of tearing down the structure just newly erected.  The Canadian Conservancy purchases  the Islet. Nature wins the battle. Swans glide below my studio, gulls dance on the rooftop, Eagles return to the ragged branches. The drumming and chanting is quiet, hammering and heavy equipment stilled.

I in awe of the magic of dreams in gratitude for the blessing of vision. My world is visual, tangible, my dreams are detailed complete with voices, song, messages and interaction.

Throughout my life magic lifts and carries me to worlds I cannot imagine. Surrender and single focused attention are my tools.

“Releasing Grace” painting is invited to a Biennial Show in Italy. It’s power felt by the curators. It sold before going to Italy. To be shared, it’s life is duplicated as a Limited Edition of 400. the power of focus, surrender, grace and wonder all embedded. My story is told.

Our two years now over, my work is done.  We leave this magical place on the harbour edge. A new home, beckons, a rose covered cottage overlooking the western sea.

Life is indeed a magical dream.