We’ve forgotten how to move with the earth.
Most of us live in a perpetual state of hectic/disconnected energy — always producing, always pushing, always in “go mode.” We’ve disconnected from the natural rhythms that our ancestors knew intimately. The ebb and flow. The expansion and contraction. The seasons of growth and the seasons of rest.
And in that disconnection, we’ve lost something essential.
We’ve lost our connection to our own inner seasons. To our creativity. To our intuition. To the wild, cyclical nature of being human.
The Disconnect from Natural Rhythms
When was the last time you really paid attention to what season you’re in? Not just the date on the calendar, but the actual energy of the earth around you?
In our modern world, we can eat strawberries in winter and wear shorts in autumn. We work the same hours whether it’s the longest day of the year or the shortest. We’ve created an artificial environment that lets us ignore the seasons entirely.
But our bodies remember.
Our souls remember.
And when we disconnect from the earth’s rhythms, we disconnect from ourselves.
We wonder why we feel exhausted when we should be energized. Why we feel restless when we need to rest. Why we feel blocked when we’re trying to create.
We’ve forgotten that there are seasons for planting seeds and seasons for harvesting. Seasons for full expression and seasons for going inward. Seasons for celebration and seasons for completion.
How Seasonal Painting Brings You Back to Earth
This is where painting with the seasons becomes medicine.
When you commit to creating four paintings across four seasons — each one honoring the unique energy and wisdom of that time — something profound happens.
You start paying attention again.
You notice when the light shifts. When the air changes. When the trees begin their transformation. You start asking: What is nature doing right now? What is she teaching me?
And then you take that wisdom to your canvas.
In Winter, you paint from the deep stillness. You explore the darkness, the rest, the completion of what needs to end. You sit with the bare branches and the quiet, and you find the tiny spark of light within the longest night.
In Spring, you paint the emergence. The rebirth. The tender green shoots pushing through the earth. You honor what wants to be planted, what’s ready to grow.
In Summer, you paint at the peak of expansion. Full bloom. Full expression. You celebrate what has manifested, what is alive and vibrant in your life.
In Autumn, you paint the harvest and the letting go. You honor what served you but is now ready to fall away, like leaves from the trees.
The Science + Soul of Creativity and Seasons
Here’s what researchers are discovering: our creativity actually IS influenced by seasonal rhythms.
Studies show that our brains function differently depending on the time of year, the amount of light we’re exposed to, and our connection to natural cycles. Our ancestors knew this intuitively. They created different kinds of art in different seasons. They told different stories. They engaged in different activities.
When we paint with the seasons, we’re not just making art. We’re:
- Regulating our nervous system by aligning with natural cycles
- Activating different parts of our brain as we respond to seasonal changes
- Processing emotions and experiences through the metaphor of nature’s cycles
- Reconnecting with our intuition by paying attention to what nature is teaching
But beyond the science, there’s something even deeper happening.
There’s soul work.
My Approach: Intuitive Painting Meets Nature’s Wisdom
I never thought I was creative. For years, I watched others paint and assumed that world wasn’t for me.
Then I discovered a different way of painting. Not realistic. Not “good” or “bad.” Just… intuitive. Free. Based on patterns and marks I found during walks in nature.
Instead of trying to paint a perfect tree, I could paint abstract tree shapes. Patterns. Symbols. I could use twigs to make marks. Press leaves into the paint. Let nature literally become part of the canvas.
And most importantly: I could interpret the shapes and symbols as messages.
The canvas became an oracle. A place where my soul could speak through color and form and pattern. Where the trees I painted became messengers — not about painting skill, but about what was happening inside me.
When I added the seasonal element, everything deepened.
Suddenly, I wasn’t just painting. I was moving through a year-long journey of transformation, guided by the wisdom of the earth herself.
The Tree Woman Archetype
The tree has been a sacred symbol across cultures and throughout time. She represents:
- Connection between heaven and earth (roots and branches)
- The cycle of death and rebirth (losing leaves, growing them back)
- Strength and flexibility (bending in the storm but not breaking)
- Deep wisdom and slow, steady growth
- Interconnectedness (roots that touch beneath the soil)
When you become Tree Woman, you embody these qualities.
You learn to root down deeply while reaching toward the light. You learn to release what’s no longer needed. You learn to bend without breaking. You learn to trust your own slow, steady transformation.
An Invitation to the Journey
If you’ve been feeling the pull toward creativity but don’t know where to start…
If you’ve been longing to reconnect with nature in a meaningful way…
If you’re craving a practice that honors rest as much as productivity…
If you’re ready to listen to what your soul has been trying to tell you…
The trees are calling you home.
Tree Woman Intuitive Painting is a 12-month quest through all four seasons. Four paintings. Four deep dives into nature’s wisdom. Four opportunities to break free from perfectionism and reconnect with your wild, creative, intuitive self.
And right now, as we approach the solstice, early enrollment is opening.
Whether you’re moving into the light of summer or the stillness of winter, this is your moment to begin.
Learn more about Tree Woman here
The earth is waiting to teach you.
The canvas is waiting to hold you.
Your Tree Woman is waiting to emerge.
Are you ready?
