Flow With Me

I have learned that life can be ruthless but I understand and see life as ever moving and evolving such as the flow of water. Each drop of water follows a different path, just like each human being follows a different path. ​ ​Read more

You wanna know healing?

Just a few minutes of play time with someone special will help open your heart. Play and open your heart to access healing. Smile, laugh often and help others smile and laugh. Dance and sing cause you want to and when you want to. Come with me on this journey of healing.  Dominik here to brighten your day. ​​Read more

Art

March 2017 It’s the art from the heart that leaves the mark.    In Michigan the winter months are long which gives me time to be creative and just create while being stuck inside. The clouds part more now everyday letting the sun peek through little by little to drive off the damp chill. It’s like there is a battle in the sky this time of year as old man frost fights to keep his hold. Unwillingly he let’s go.Read more

Wander

Here’s to the souls that yearn for movement and to the girls that dance to the beat of their own tune. Stretching their voices to be heard by their songs, by their touch and by their hearts which speak the language of movement.To the girls that wander to see, hear and feel the poetry in everything. To the magnificence of the oceans blue to the tall dance of sea grass as it whispers in the wind. Hold your freedom inRead more

Feeling blue 

  This is me drawing my version of Crazy Horse on the IPad Pro with the Apple pencil. What to do when you are feeling blue? Find something that you enjoy doing, something that you feel passionate about which helps in redirecting your focus away from all that troubles you. How do you find it you ask? Look back onto your childhood and what you loved to do as a child, this is where you will find your playful heartRead more

Unpredictable

Fate is an unpredictable mistress. She paints a world of shadows. I stood against her and her tides of despair. Fanning the fields of hope, realizing that she was a joke, that I was the joke. Painted faces reflect in the mirror, a golden man lie on my shore His cascading smile, iridescent liquid pearls bleed across my breast. No elbow room at his feeding trough. Ironing wrinkled fields of disenchantment. Writing notes of the joke which is she. StoriesRead more