Art & writings

on ascension, kundalini awakening, wellbeing and creativity

About Me



I am an intuitive artist - storyteller who raises awareness about ascension, kundalini awakening, the divine feminine and mental health.

After studying Fine Art and Textile Design at tertiary level, I worked in the fashion industry for over 10 years creating the art and design for children’s fashion. Then having had a family and working in the Disability and Health field, worked as an art teacher.

I work in acrylics and mixed media which is often channeled .

I also write spiritual tales to explore imaginative realms, connect to creative superpowers and the rich tradition of healing.

I blog about all these things.

Xxx Kath

Some spiritual tales...
The 100th Shell

Once upon a time there was a mermaid, who was pretty, but certainly not beautiful by any stretch of the imagination. She did however possess a startlingly beautiful dream for her life, which in any case, caused overwhelming radiance greater than any mere arrangement of facial features and hair. In any case, most truly beautiful people do not actually perceive themselves as beautiful, and this was perhaps a more apt category for her, as her unique ways had their own irresistible charms.

Her name was Pearl. Her hair was a cloud of tendrils of deepest jade, with unusual almond-shaped dark lashed eyes to match. Her limbs were pale as a strawberry moon and her tail a deep emerald peppered with uneven turquoise and gold scales. She often floated through underwater life tangled in a haze of seaweed and anemones, always forgetting to clean her scales and hair that floated behind her like graceful seaweed. People were accustomed to her odd ways and singular mind, and came to accept her eccentricity with delight and amusement.

Pearl’s deepest desire was to find meaning in life and be useful in the world. She knew when this happened her heart would overflow with bliss which was another one of her goals. She imagined the sensation quite clearly, and was desperately sure it was the right path, no matter what others said or did. ”To do something special” was all she had ever wanted, she asserted, to her ever-patient betrothed.

Pearl’s betrothed was a merman, handsome, strong and wise all at once. Her was perfect for her as he loved indulging her eccentric ways and never counted her mistakes as something to be fixed, rather he saw them as guidelines for clarity and growth.

Shining Star

Once upon a time there was a shining star.

This star was perfect. It glowed and shone perfectly. God made sure to see it so, and as everyone knows you can’t argue with God, that was that.

One day it noticed there was another star ever so slightly higher in the sky than he, and from where he was resting it even looked shinier, or dare we say, brighter.

“Hmmmp!” Said Star - ”who does he think he is shining like that! I know what he’s doing! He’s trying to make me look dull. Who does he think shining like that? I’ll show that star!”

Star hatched a plan.

“I know!” He exclaimed excitedly, ”I’ll make myself shinier, and then everyone will know I’m better than him. I’ll be not only better than him, I’ll be better than me! Much better than just ’Star’. No, I’ll be ”Shining Star’ What could be better than that? Nothing is more important than shining, and I’m going to outshine everyone, just you watch me.”

And so Star became Shining Star, and he thought he was higher and better and ‘everything’ more than everyone in the heavens.

Shining Star, as he was known now, was quite lonely though. Being a Shining Star was a lot harder than he had first thought. For one thing he no longer had any real friends, just some other Shining Stars close who were also busy keeping themselves shinny. All Shining Star’s older friends were just stars, and he was up way too high to spend time with them. So he decided to stick to the work of being a Shining Star and not worry too much about it.

The Clever Chef
and the Lonely Hen

Once upon a time there lived a Clever Chef. Clever Chef was not only handsome, talented and charming but he had the gift of turning food into art. People traveled for miles to experience his food which was full of fun, colour and deliciousness.

The only thing that marred the success of his delicious food was the way he procured his ingredients. He had a dark secret which no living soul knew.

He had many years ago captured an enchanted hen whose eggs he used in every dish. They were the essential ingredient. These eggs were magical in that they caused the recipient to experience the greatest happiness they had ever known. They would feel childlike wonder upon consumption, and even those with the hardest of hearts would weep with joy after eating his meals.

Though sadly his feathered benefactor, Lonely Hen, felt none of this joy  and was herself persistently devoid of delight. She avoided it like the plague in fact. She had a dogged sense of duty in making others happy, and was committed to producing eggs for Clever Chef to make his works of art. She did what she was told in every way possible.

No one ever questioned his egg-heavy recipes, and no one ever guessed the secret to his success.

The Lonely Hen lived quietly laying magic egg after magic egg, forgetting how she had become to be in possession of the Chef, and if anything at all laid outside her coup. She did what she was told in every way possible.

One day, the Clever Chef, bored with his usual fame and glory, hatched a plan to raise himself to even greater heights of notoriety. He planned a very special culinary event. He would invite every other famous Chef in the land to taste his ”dish of dishes”, which he believed would bring the land to a halt. Now the funniest part was not this – as he was known for grandiose and over the top gestures - was not the event, but the menu itself. It was not to be a 6 course degustation, there would be no amuse-bouche, no entrements and definitely not, absolutely no charcuterie. No, no, no - it was a lot more shocking than that.

The dish was to be an omelette.

But it was to be no ordinary omelette, for it would be made entirely from the eggs of Lonely Hen - however the gentrified crowd did not know this hence the drama. Usually the Clever Chef rationed them out - one per soufflé, two per zabaione, and always six for a generous quantity of carbonara. But this dish was to use 100% magic eggs. “Incredible” he thought to himself, a mischievous grin wiped across his lips, ”So very simple yet so magical.”

This omelette would surpass all prior culinary brilliance. It would be the jewel in his crown. He would make the brazen promise that once eaten, this dish would catapult the eater into an ecstasy of sensation from which they may never recover from, but would die happily from having had the experience. It was beyond scandalous and quite frankly totally insane also.

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