It all started with a bowl full of oranges...
The origin story of Liberté
In going through The Artist’s Way again this year, I’ve been reminiscing on the first time I opened the pages. The divine timing of it all, the synchronicities, and the impact of small actions leading to unimaginable creations.
Trust. Listening. Commitment. Unblocking. Joy. Freedom.
As I was finding my creative self again…Liberté found me. On accident? On time? All I know, is it was an account of oranges. A piece of damn fruit.
I strongly stand by the statement: when you open yourself up to the work of The Artist’s Way, divine law begins to kick in. What’s meant for you will come to you. Be open (and brave) enough to receive it.
The birth (I also say that intentionally…because damn, I have carried this business all the way from gestation in concept into the painful labor of creation) Liberté was no different.
I decided to re-publish the origin story of Liberté…because it’s juicy enough to be told twice.
Enjoy.
I began buying oranges at the same time I began reading The Artist’s Way for the first time. Hearing murmurs for years about a mystical, magical book for creatives, The Artist’s Way had been sitting on my bookshelf for a few months before I fatefully opened its pages. I strongly believe this piece of work will find its way to you at the most divine of timing — it is no accident when you find yourself drawn to The Artist’s Way. Time begins to speed up or slow down. Each weekly theme will somehow exactly align with what is happening in your own life. It’s as if the author, Julia Cameron, has her eyes hidden amongst the pages, peering into your life to shapeshift its message and hand-deliver exactly what you need, exactly when you need it.
I’m not one for ‘woo woo’ language (or maybe I am and I’m just now getting used to owning it), yet I can’t find any other word that is more fitting than magical to describe this piece of work. It sounds elusive, but it’s true. Its enchantedness may be what I love most about the work — it’s impossible to conjure up (here I go again with the witchy words) the exact language to explain its powers. Whatever is said about The Artist’s Way, it’s true — it’s a portal to possibility and a piece of work that (I’m not exaggerating) changed the trajectory of my life. Books are so much more than pieces of paper bound together — when you pay attention, they become mysterious gateways to transformation. I had no idea what I was getting into when I opened the fatal pages of Week 1: Recovering a Sense of Safety. Over the course of 12 weeks, I found safety in the unfolding of the unexplainable and the trust fall that is inevitable when walking towards creative purpose, joy, and freedom.
My first Artist’s Date I spent at All Time in Los Feliz — free of my phone and distractions, this was the moment I began absorbing Julia Cameron’s teachings
Aside from reading mysterious books in my spare time, I had finally settled into the flow of life in Los Angeles. Calling Rowena Avenue in Los Feliz home, I started to feel like LA was working for me, not against. For anyone who has uprooted their lives multiple times, I don’t have to remind you that transitions take time and effort. My move to Los Angeles was not as glamorous as Hollywood would suggest — it was full of friendship flops, failed attempts at cohesively balancing work and play, navigating loneliness more challenging than driving on the 101 while trying to stay real amongst a sea of social-media-crazed influencers. When I found myself calling Rowena Avenue home, things finally felt like they clicked into place. While I did move further away from my beloved Pacific Ocean, I simultaneously became a stone’s throw away from my favorite places in the city (Griffith Park, Little Doms, All Time, Skylight Books, and new pals who now are lifelong friends to name a few), I felt like I could finally breathe new depth into this chapter of my life.
Enter: oranges and The Artist’s Way
While my new home was conveniently furnished to my tasteful design aesthetic (thanks to the exquisite style of my wonderful Italian roommate, Vitto), it did not mean that I would not add my personal and quirky touches to the place. Upon arriving, I noticed a bowl on the dining room table, sadly empty and (from my eyes) waiting to be filled with something delicious.
Enter: oranges and The Artist’s Way
Following the advice and practices of The Artist’s Way, I began deliberately treating everything in my life as a creative act. Maybe to the extreme, I saw life as a blank canvas and I was ready to paint. But paint what? At the time, anything and everything, specifically, whatever brought me the most joy.
Humbly accepting the roots of my upbringing, it’s important to mention that I am a born and raised Midwesterner — an identity that I have tried to run away from, but truthfully, is still very a core of who I am. Ranch Dressing. Barefeet. Bonfires. ‘Warsh’ instead of ‘Wash’…. they're all still in there somewhere. The simplisties of tasteless, tackless style come with Midwestern territory and just like Pier 1 loves bowls full of fruit, so do I. Few and far between do I own a “Live, Laugh, Love” culture, but bowls of fruit really get me — they fill me with swells of sweet joy.
Browsing the aisles of the Los Feliz Trader Joe’s, I snagged a bag of oranges to fill up this poor, lonely, isolated dining room table fruit bowl.
The rest, you will come to find out in due time, was history.
Filling up this bowl with oranges became both an artistic expression and a creative ritual. The bowl is low, go to the store, buy the oranges, peruse the flowers, design a bouquet in my head, go to the register, walk home, open the bag, pour the oranges out, lovingly arrange the bouquet, feel happy, elated with joy, and delightfully creative.
Rinse. Repeat.
Smelling roses with a zesty twist. Weekly Rituals.
As if I was both blissfully in a sleepwalking daze and vibrantly alive with intention and inspiration, week 1 turned into 2 followed by 3 right into 4….all the way through week 12. This sacred process never felt forced. It was never once a check-listed to-do item — no, this felt different. It was something that felt like I had always done, just not in a while. Strangely, as if a part of me had lay dormant for years and I was finally letting this part see the light of day, so I had to get reacquainted with her. Both familiar and unfamiliar. With the creative part of me calling the shots, over time this act became natural and instinctual — even though I had no prior obsession with oranges, I absolutely loved doing it. I kept asking myself: “Why? What’s the deal with the oranges?” and would always respond coyly to myself: “Why not? Don’t question it."
Around the same time, I was planning a retreat with a new creative partner who has turned into a lifelong friend and confidant. A creative soulmate. Our paths were destined to cross, but this fateful story will have to be bookmarked for another time. It’s too special to be one or two sentences among many. You will learn about our shared history sometime down the road, for our story is nowhere near the end — which tends to reign true of everyone who has crossed my path since week 1 of The Artist’s Way. For now, all you need to know is the two of us (both deeply unfilled in our individual businesses) agreed to collaborate on a creative retreat together, located in Portugal. The location was more of a happy accident, with no rhyme or reason behind choosing Portugal other than a retreat space dropping right into our laps at the right time, we would be meeting on the charming coast of Eirceria. I would come from sunny and vibrant Los Angeles and she would come from a small and snowy mountain town in Italy. Portugal is where we would collaborate together. Finally…a dream turned into reality.
Europe, I’m ready for you.
What I wasn’t ready for was the challenges, loneliness, and utter shit show that had begun to form in my California Dreamin’ life. The idealistic facade fell and was slowly falling apart.
As with any good story, drama ensues.
A bike crash that nearly fractured my shoulder, making my yoga teaching days abruptly halted (miraculous sigh of relief that I healed quickly), a Mini Cooper with a failing engine, inconsistent flow of money in business (leading to a full-on business identity crisis), an ex-boyfriend that was a pest in my ear (unearthing years of relationship wounding and ultimate closure), loss of friendships that stung with abandonment, judgment from family, judgment from peers, questioning of self — all wrapped in the LA notion of faking it until you make it.
Pretty exterior, yet a confused and shattered interior.
Sunkissed, but barely hanging by a thread.
You name it — I probably experienced it. Around this time is when I started to become physically scarce with money, but abundant in resources. I began to pull away from the belief that money stood in the way of my dreams and stepped into the murky unknown of walking towards a bigger vision, even when the path was unclear. The laws of prosperity started to find me, without me having to go searching far. I slowly started to drift away from the traditional model of my business and allowed creative endeavors to lead the way. So began the terrifying surrender of letting creativity guide me forward, despite the constraints of day-to-day life.
The truth?
Despite the dramatic tendencies that seemed to be following me, I felt the most prosperous I had ever felt in my life. I was more fulfilled than I had been in years. I was finding me again…and that was worth all of the challenges combined and then some.
Following the taste of prosperity, as summer came to a close and fall began to appear, it was time to pack my bags to go to Portugal — unsure and uncertain of what was in store but ready for…something. Unbeknown to me, it would be my final cherished days on Rowena Avenue, where time innocently stood still, oranges filled up bowls and the vibrant exterior of Los Angeles remained in its rightful place. Within a few weeks, everything would change. The exterior of Los Angeles would reveal its empty and hollow form and this curated ‘dream life’ of mine would begin to deteriorate, right alongside my business. However, prosperity would follow me to new experiences, with new people, widening my worldview and expanding my heart in ways I had never imagined.
Following the trail of oranges, I would soon find my truest purpose and highest calling — all in a foreign land I now call home.
Part 2 coming to you in a separate thread. By the end, you’ll fully understand the reason behind the oranges…it’s just more than filling them up on Rowena Avenue.
Ciao for now,
M