THE STORY BEHIND

the Grid

Where Sacred Knowledge Lives On

Some things arrive all at once. And some things spend a lifetime quietly introducing themselves.

The Grid Work was never something I sat down and decided to invent. In many ways, it feels like something that has been finding me my entire life.

Long before I ever shared this work publicly, I was drawing the lines. The circles. The pathways. The interconnected shapes.

Not as art projects. Not as designs. Not as something taught to me.

It was simply the way energy, emotion, intuition, and inner guidance moved through me and onto paper.

For years, I created these patterns privately without fully understanding why I was so drawn to them. Looking back now, I realize they were teaching me long before I had language for what they were becoming.

I grew up in Appalachia surrounded by creeks, woods, animals, silence, stories, and people who understood that not everything meaningful could be easily explained.

The mountains teach you that land carries feeling.

That certain places hold peace.

That water, trees, silence, and stone can change the way a person feels inside themselves.

If you spend enough time listening, you begin to understand that nature is constantly communicating, not through words, but through sensation, intuition, memory, emotion, and presence.

To trust instinct.
To notice subtle shifts.
To understand that healing is often quiet.

That way of listening shaped me long before this work ever had a name.

Over time, the drawings evolved naturally alongside my work with intuition, energy, animals, and personal healing. The stones came later, but when they did, it felt less like creating something new and more like recognizing something that had been waiting for me all along.

The stones are gathered from Appalachian waterways and places deeply connected to my life. Weathered by moving water and shaped by time, each one carries its own texture, character, and presence.

Nothing about the process is forced.

The lines remain hand drawn.
The shapes remain imperfect.
The work remains intuitive.

Because there are no straight lines in nature.

And healing itself is rarely linear.

To me, the grids are not about performance or giving power away to something outside yourself.

They are about connection.

About returning to yourself.
About learning to listen again.
About creating space for grounding, clarity, healing, reflection, and remembrance in a world that constantly pulls people away from their own inner knowing.

Perhaps that is why so many people connect with the work emotionally before they can fully explain why.

It feels less like something created…

and more like something remembered.

Old wisdom and present understanding.

Not opposing one another.
Remembering one another.

Not something created overnight.

Something slowly revealed through a lifetime of listening.