But at some point, staying quiet is no longer an option, no matter how uncomfortable it feels.

You see, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), nearly half of women in the U.S. have experienced some form of contact sexual violence in their lifetime.

And I am one of them.

It took almost 30 years to finally admit what had happened to me.
For most of my life, I carried the shame and guilt of it. But that was only the beginning.

It took years to understand how the trauma had affected who I was as a person, the decisions I made, the way I related to people. I was numb to my emotions. I felt less than. And the walls I had built to keep me safe also kept me from forming bonds with others.

For a long time, I thought, that’s just me.

But it wasn’t.
A lot of it was the result of the coping mechanisms my younger self had built to protect me.

When the Conversation Turned to Men

So when my friend, who is also a survivor of SA, shared her thoughts about the Cornell 7 case — the seven young men accused of gang-raping a young woman — this time, she brought the men in her life into the conversation, and my immediate thought was, “I’ve never had this conversation with my son.”

Or with any men at all. I had never considered it.

That realization made me see that I was part of the problem too.

As my friend was saying, the system allows or justifies ‘boys being boys,’ but what about us as adults, as parents, grandparents? How are we taking responsibility?

I can start with me. I realized that I never spoke to my son about this.

He was raised in a house filled with women, and I think that helped shape who he is today. But a house full of women isn’t the same as a conversation about respect, accountability, and how women should be treated.

That made me think about the phrase, “boys will be boys.”
I wonder…

Is this phrase freeing men from taking accountability?
Is it excusing whatever men do?

I believe this case has given many of us a chance to reflect on how we contribute to the problem and what we can do to change what has been normalized.

Because women shouldn’t say they feel safer with a bear than with a man. Women shouldn’t have to live with shame and guilt while men get excused. For example, in this case, some were asked to write a reflection essay.

Respect Requires More Than Good Intentions

I also think the conversation is understanding that respecting women requires more than saying, “I’ve never raped anyone. I’ve never physically hurt a woman.”

That is an incredibly low bar.

These questions came to mind:
How do you treat women when no one is watching?
Do you lie to her? Do you deceive her?
Do you believe lying and deceiving is treating her with respect?
If you humiliate a woman, does the fact that you didn’t physically hurt her make it respectful?
When a guy friend degrades a woman, do you laugh, stay quiet, or speak up?

And what are the young men in your life learning from your behavior?

Cheating or deception is not the same thing as sexual assault. It isn’t.
But disrespecting and dehumanizing women doesn’t begin with sexual violence. It can begin in the way we talk about women, lie to them, humiliate them, use them, or treat their feelings as if they don’t matter.

And when young men see that behavior excused or normalized, what are we teaching them about honesty, empathy, consent, boundaries, accountability, and the humanity of women?

What kind of role models are we being?
Those lessons are being taught long before something terrible happens.

What Are We Choosing to Pass On?

Staying silent can feel easier. Until it hits home.
I’ve reached a point where I realize the woman I’m becoming, the woman whose work is about helping others imagine who they want to become, can’t keep staying quiet.

Typing this has been super uncomfortable, but it’s more painful to stay quiet while I see women living in shame, traumatized, and in some cases in fear because “boys will be boys.”

I’m mad.
Because boys are not born believing it’s okay to disrespect women.

They learn these behaviors from what they see and hear, and what adults allow and tolerate.

As a woman, it saddens me to see what happens to younger women. As a mother, it saddens me to see boys grow into men who feel entitled to women and never learn what real love requires.

I’ll end with this: Who do you want to be for our future generations? For your kid’s kids?

I learned very young to stay quiet about things that made people uncomfortable.
Maybe part of who I’m becoming now is a woman who no longer does that.

I want to have these conversations with the men in my life, but I also want to have them out loud, like I’m doing here. Because if I’m thinking about these things, I know I’m not the only one.

And how do we grow, learn, or change anything if we won’t talk about it?

This is me finally having the courage to do something I didn’t do in the past. Because it’s never too late to take a step in the right direction.

Who likes being vulnerable?
I doubt many people do.

I don’t. But not too long ago, I chose to let my walls down and trust someone fully.
It sure didn’t turn out the way I hoped.

I was deceived.

And being who I am, I spent time looking back, trying to understand what I missed.
I was surprised at what came up.

When we are hurt, it’s so easy to stay focused on what was done to us. How can we not? We’re only human.

However, part of my own growth journey has been learning to express my feelings instead of keeping everything inside. And the woman I’m becoming, she’s the vulnerable one. So I did what I’ve learned to do:
I consulted her. In my imagination.

Funny enough, she didn’t pity me. What I saw was a smiling Future Claudia.

She was glad while I was pissed.

After a while of writing, I could see why. She was focused on my future.
On who I’m becoming.

She saw that Claudia had the courage to do something she had avoided for years.
That was to open up and trust.

What I’m taking with me

Although the result of that trust was the opposite of what I expected, what I’m taking from this isn’t that I shouldn’t have let my walls down.

I realized that trusting wasn’t the mistake.
Ignoring myself was. Ignoring those moments when a feeling or thought made me uncomfortable and I pushed it aside.

Life isn’t going to stop disappointing us just because we’re working on ourselves.
People will hurt us. Things won’t work out. Sometimes we’ll make choices we wish we hadn’t.

So maybe the question for me isn’t, “How do I make sure this never happens again?”
Maybe it’s, “What do I want to choose because this happened?”

As I was thinking about that, I remembered something I’ve been reading in Be Your Future Self Now. Dr. Benjamin Hardy writes that you can let the pain of life swallow you or learn from it and commit to something much better.

I choose the second.

I want that part of me that is willing to trust and be vulnerable to keep doing that.

So I’ll pass the question to you: Is there something that has happened in your life that makes you ask, “What do I want to choose because of this?”

Have you ever wanted something, but felt you’d have to become someone else to get it?

Maybe it’s finally expressing your true feelings to someone you love.
Maybe it’s quitting your job, even though you’re afraid it won’t work.
Or maybe it’s admitting that you want a completely different life, and you don’t know where you would even begin.

Change is never easy.

And something I’ve learned is that sometimes change is already happening, and we just don’t see it… yet.

Years ago, I was in a toxic relationship, and I was miserable.
I wanted to be the woman who didn’t put up with the nonsense, but I let him keep coming back.

Paulo Coelho wrote in The Alchemist, “And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”

The signs were there, but I was so disconnected from myself that I kept missing what they were trying to show me.

Eventually, life made the decision for me. The relationship ended in a way I had not been able to choose for myself. It was heartbreaking, but it was exactly what I needed.

But change doesn’t always have to come through pain.

Neville Goddard teaches that what we desire can begin unfolding before we can see any evidence of it.

It makes me wonder how much of our future is already unfolding before we can see the whole picture.

Look for the pieces

Let’s say you want to travel solo, but you’re afraid.
Then you meet a woman who recently traveled by herself and she tells you about her experience. Or a video about solo travel suddenly shows up in your YouTube feed, or an opportunity to take a local trip alone shows up.

Coincidence?

I don’t believe in coincidence. Maybe you do.
I like to think that these are evidence of the unfolding.
Because most of the time, becoming your future self doesn’t arrive as one huge transformation. It shows up in the most unexpected moments.
You just have to notice them, appreciate them, and then decide whether to take the next step.

Recently, I had a wonderful encounter with a woman I admire, who showed me kindness and love in a way I didn’t expect.
And while writing this, I realized something.
That conversation with her may not have happened if I weren’t already becoming more of the woman I intend to be. Something in me had changed enough to receive it.

And that gave me joy because it reminded me that I am moving toward what I see for myself, even when I can’t see all of it yet.

Have you experienced something similar?
Is there something you’ve been wanting that may already be showing up in small ways? A conversation. A person. An opportunity. Even a feeling that keeps coming back.

Maybe it’s not as random as it seems.

I’ve been realizing how often I treat enjoyment like something I have to earn.

This month, I’ve spent more time living than I did all of last year.

I traveled for a long weekend, spent a weekend celebrating my friend’s birthday, and said yes to visiting a place I’d never been before, even though I also had plans to go to a polo match that same weekend.

And each time I had to make the decision, the first thought that came to me was:
“You shouldn’t go anywhere, you have too much work to do.”
“You are going to fall back on your goals.”
“Fun comes after you reach your goals.”

Maybe this sounds familiar to you too.

I’ve been reading, researching, thinking about identity, beliefs, self-image, and change as I work on developing the Future Self-Portrait.

Different teachers may explain it differently, but one idea keeps coming up: You have to begin embodying the person you want to become.
Neville Goddard called it “living in the end.”

And I keep thinking...

How am I supposed to guide others if I’m not willing to practice it myself?

The woman I’m becoming takes her work seriously, but she doesn’t put her life on hold for it.

She spends time with people she loves, travels, enjoys nature, and gives herself permission to do things simply because they make her happy.
She doesn’t need to prove she worked hard enough to deserve them.

This is the part that I’m really learning, and I’m happy to have embodied it this past month.

I already practiced the “I have to hustle” and “I’m too busy,” but it has gotten me nowhere. It only left me feeling exhausted, burnt out, and like almost two years of my life passed by without creating meaningful memories.

Today, I’m practicing what I preach.

Is there guilt when I’m not working, and I’m out enjoying myself?

A tiny bit, but I expect it to be there.

That’s the challenge.

That’s my old self wanting to stay in control, while my new self is saying “Girl, we are having fun because life is way too short to keep waiting until everything is done.”

And is it ever done?

There will always be something to do, responsibilities, and reasons to tell ourselves, “Not yet.”

So, what is one thing you know your Future self would tell you to start doing now, instead of waiting?

During a network meeting, I was talking with a woman who told me she was thinking about giving away a dog she had recently adopted.

As a dog lover, I was concerned and asked her why.

I thought the issue was the dog.

It wasn’t.

She is married, has two teenage boys, and a full-time job. Once they got the dog, it became one more living thing depending on her.

As we talked, she became vulnerable and shared that she already felt like she was taking care of three children. The dog was the last straw.

The disappearing nobody talks about

I have seen something similar before. In the workshops I facilitate, I ask women a simple question: What makes you happy? What do you want?

Often the answers are about their kids, husbands, and family. Which is fine, but I was asking about them.

When I ask again, many go silent.

My thought is not that they don’t have dreams. I think sometimes those dreams have been pushed aside for so long they are no longer even part of the conversation they have with themselves.

It never happens all at once. It happens in small moments.
Until one day you realize you have somehow left yourself out of the picture.

What do I want now?

Then life changes.
Kids leave. A relationship ends. A career shifts or ends. And suddenly, a new space opens up.

What you thought would feel freeing can instead feel confusing, because now you’re faced with questions you may not have asked yourself in years.
You may not be able to answer: What do I want or What’s next?

Like, what’s next if you choose to make yourself a priority? Or what’s next when you stop living to please everyone else?

What’s crazy is that the ‘next’ can be uncomfortable and scary. It can fill one with anxiety because it requires stepping into the unknown.

I know this because not too long ago I had to step into that unknown myself. It was terrifying.

But I took the step.

Maybe you don’t need to have the answer to “What’s next?” yet.
Maybe the first step is simply getting curious about yourself again.
What do I want? What do I miss? What am I curious about now?

You don’t have to figure out your whole future. You just have to start including yourself in the conversation again.

What I am building

Right now, I’m still in that space in some areas of my life.

And the one thing I know with certainty is that I’m here to develop the Future Self-Portrait experience.

It is being created for that space where you know an old version of your life no longer fits, but you can’t clearly see what comes next.

The process uses reflection, imagination, and creativity to help bring that next version of yourself visible.

Soon I’ll be going through the entire process myself, and creating my own Future Self-Portrait.

I’m curious to see what becomes clearer when I stop trying to figure everything out only in my head and give it form I can actually see.

Maybe we don’t need to know exactly what comes next. Maybe we just need to start seeing ourselves in the possibilities again.

Where have you left yourself out of the picture?

Who can relate to this quote?

I certainly can. At least twice in my life, I’ve felt as though I was gripping the edge of a life that was already gone.

And it makes sense. When we can’t see the future, the fear of the unknown can take over.

Our brains prefer to keep us ‘safe,’ in what is familiar, even when it’s a relationship that is draining us, a job that is making us miserable, even a habit that is slowly making us sick.

And we stay, hanging.

But… sometimes life nudges us.

When in the middle

There was a season when everything I had built disappeared almost at once.
The relationship ended. My son left home. I lost my job.

I knew there was no going back.
But there was no clear way forward either.

Just like the illustration above, I was hanging. Grieving the past and unable to see what was ahead.

However, we don’t have to wait for life to force us into this ‘middle’ space. We can choose it.

But… even when the choice is ours, fear can keep us suspended. Stuck.

How can we get unstuck? How can we let go?

Moving beyond middle

Recently, I listened to a conversation between Myron Golden and Dr. Benjamin Hardy talking about working from your future self to create your present.

I was fascinated with their conversation because it gave me greater clarity and confirmation.

Myron Golden spoke about the power of choosing the ‘joyful anticipation’ of the outcome desired, rather than allowing doubt and powerlessness to consume our attention.

This reminded me of something Dr. Joe Dispenza often teaches: where attention goes, energy follows. If you spend your days focused on what you fear losing, you leave no room to see what is possible.

But..
What stayed with me was what Dr. Benjamin Hardy explained. Your future self is something you use right now to shape your decisions, your direction, your daily choices.

“Your future is a tool.”

That got me wondering:
What is the future I want to build?
Are the choices I make today contributing to the woman I desire to be in my future?
And what would I need to release in order to move toward her?

I’m finally beginning to understand that I don’t need to have all the clarity before I decide. Sometimes the decision comes first, and the clarity grows as I begin moving toward it.

This is something I’m working on now as the Future Self-Portrait program is taking shape.

Soon, I will create my own portrait, which will give me the steps to guide other women in creating a clear visual expression of who they are becoming.

Not because a portrait can guarantee what the future will bring.
But because it is easier to move toward a future when we can begin to see it.

So, what decision are you waiting to feel ready for? What if you made it today instead? Let clarity follow.

I’ve been spending hours building the Future Self-Portrait program.

The other day, after several hours of working on building the pitch, my brain was fried. I needed a break.
But as I opened my email, a headline immediately caught my attention.

It was all about why we should stop searching for happiness.

My first reaction was resistance.

Because 13 years ago, I was desperately seeking to feel happy.

I was in a toxic relationship. I wanted out, but I kept falling back into the same toxicity.
Until one day, he left, and I fell apart.

I didn’t know if I was depressed or simply miserable.
All I knew was that I felt empty.

I remember praying for one thing: To be happy.

So when I read that Viktor Frankl, Carl Jung, and Alan Watts all warned against searching for happiness, I couldn’t stop wondering...

Why not? My life changed because of it. Or so I thought.

What they understood

Watts wrote that chasing happiness is like pursuing a phantom: “the faster you chase it, the faster it runs ahead.”

Jung, when asked about happiness in an interview, said, “The more you deliberately seek happiness, the more sure you are not to find it. It is therefore far better to take things as they come along, with patience and equanimity.”

Frankl argued that happiness cannot be pursued. It can only ensue, meaning it follows on its own, as the natural result of a meaningful life.

He believed that the search for meaning, not pleasure or power, is the primary motivation in human life.

Jung agreed, but Watts went one step further. He argued that even meaning is not something to chase. Life is not a problem to solve or a goal to reach. It fulfills itself in being lived, the way music fulfills itself in being played, not in reaching the final note.

What I got out of this is that happiness shows up while you are busy with something deeper. Frankl called it meaning. Jung called it wholeness. Watts called it presence.

Then I looked back at my own life

I reflected on what happened when I was chasing happiness.

I remember clearly making the decision to say yes to new experiences.
A yes took me to Landmark, where my self-discovery journey began.
Another yes took me to the Kabbalah Centre, a place I had walked past so many times without ever going in.

At the time, I was searching for something new, a new experience, a new anything. But not meaning. I was oblivious to what meaning meant.

Looking back, I wasn’t really chasing happiness.
I was opening myself to the possibility of a new world.

This new world led me inward. It taught me to listen to myself.
Listening to that voice within is what led me to art.

And art led me back to me.

To have awareness of myself. A relationship with myself. Most importantly, my passion, my purpose.

The word underneath happiness

Life will never be free from pain. There will always be uncertainty.
Disappointment. Loss.

What I understood is that there is something deeper than happiness.
A steady inner calm that remains, even when life becomes difficult. I finally learned the word for it: Equanimity.

Now Frankl’s words make complete sense.

If it feels like you’re chasing happiness, maybe the next step isn’t trying harder.
Maybe it’s simply saying yes to something you’ve never tried before.
You don’t need to know where it leads. I didn’t.

Maybe that’s why the article caught my attention.
The Future Self-Portrait isn’t really about chasing joy or happiness.
It’s about becoming the woman who naturally experiences those things.

You don’t chase the feeling.
You become the woman.
Then the feeling follows.

I’m Claudia, a portrait artist who uses creativity to help women bring the vision of their future to life.

Maybe he does not laugh.

Maybe he waits, knowing that what is meant for us will find its way no matter the distractions.

I’m working on something I believe will change the lives of thousands of women.
And this week, I had a clear plan to move it forward.

Instead, I spent my days putting out fires.

By Friday, I felt like the needle had not moved at all.

Maybe it has happened to you. You say, “I’m getting X done this week!” And then 10 more things show up, taking you off track.

Maybe like me, by Friday, you’re wondering where the time went and why you feel so far from where you want to be.

I couldn’t help but feel disappointed, then two things happened.

First, I remembered a conversation with a mentor from the Small Business Partnership who told me that for any business to truly prosper, three things need to be in place.

• Believe in your belief.

• Enroll others in your belief.

• Relentless execution.

I sat with that for a moment and realized that my belief had not moved an inch despite the distractions.

Then, during my morning walk, I listened to Neville Goddard speak about being in alignment. Being in a state where your actions, beliefs, and feelings are not working against each other.

I smiled. Because even though it felt like I was crawling this week, I was still aligned. My belief has not changed. I still feel excited about what I’m doing.

Neville teaches that our outer world reflects our inner state. So when the belief holds even when the week does not cooperate, something important is happening.

Here is what I know to be true.

You are not falling behind. You are trusting yourself even when the results are still invisible.

Once again, maybe God is just waiting. Knowing that what is meant for us is already unfolding. Even on the weeks that do not go as planned.

Can’t wait to share what’s unfolding on my end.

I found myself thinking about this as I’m in the middle of rebuilding something that has been in my heart for a long time. When I look back at where I am and how I got here, I can see the dots connecting.

The Dots I Never Would Have Chosen

If I had not hit an emotional rock bottom years ago, I would have never started drawing and painting.

If I had not left my career, I probably would not be on this journey to build a creativity business.

If I had not been part of an exhibition my friend Jasmine curated years ago. I probably would never have created the Future Self Portrait program.

Pain. Uncertainty. Unexpected detours.
Those are some of ‘my dots.’

I wonder if yours looks similar. Not the same story. But a similar feeling.
That life kept nudging you toward something even when you couldn’t see what it was.

Curiosity has always been one of my dots, too.
Every time I followed what pulled me even without knowing where it would lead, it became a dot. A small one sometimes. But a dot.

And then I realized, I could be proactive and create my own dots. Deciding where I wanted to go instead of waiting to be nudged.

Do I see them all clearly? No. Doubt still shows up and tells me I’m not making progress. That there is nothing to look forward to.

So, I close my eyes. Smile and remind myself that I have the power of choice.

Your Dots Are Connecting Too

So do you.

You can choose to listen to doubt. Or you can choose to keep planting seeds and trust that your dots are becoming something you cannot see fully yet.

Life will nudge us to create our dots. Or we can decide to create them ourselves. Either way, they will connect. And when they do, it will probably look nothing like what we imagined.

But that’s the beauty of it. Whatever name you have for it, life, the Universe, God, has a way of showing us how much grander it is than anything we could have planned.

I’m working on creating my dots and trusting that they’ll connect as I follow my heart.

After all, life is a journey. Not a destination.

I’m Claudia, a portrait artist who uses creativity to help women see themselves differently. Not just who they are but who they are becoming.

I’d love to hear from you. claudia@marulandaart.com

And I’m wondering how to start sharing something that scares and excites me at the same time.

For the past few weeks, I’ve been heads down working on something that has lived inside my heart for a long time.

A program I started a few years ago that I never fully completed. Not for lack of desire. For lack of self-trust, clarity, and a couple of wrong turns that sent me in other directions.

But it never left me alone.

Some of you might remember it. A few years ago, I created a program for women to envision their future self in an actual portrait they create with their own hands.

The results moved me.

Watching women discover something about themselves through art that they couldn’t find through journaling, thinking, or talking about it. That was the moment I knew this work was significant and real.

I’m coming back to it now. For good this time.

What excites me most is that I will be the first participant.

Because here is my truth. I have dreams and desires I can almost touch. I can feel her, this future version of me, somewhere close. But the image keeps disappearing. No matter how much I read, listen, or reflect, she is out of focus.

I listen to Joe Dispenza. I study Neville Goddard. I attend events that shift something in my body. And still. The picture of who my future self is remains unclear.

That’s exactly why I’m choosing to see this through.

Because I’m living this experience right now. This is not a theory.

Most of us don’t struggle to imagine a better life. We struggle to see ourselves in it. Clearly. Specifically. In a way, the body recognizes, and the doubt cannot erase.

That’s what this program is about. Giving women a space to look within, to explore who they have been, how that has shaped who they are now, and from there to create a portrait of who they are choosing to become. With their own hands. In their own image.

I painted those words on my own canvas years ago. “I am a wonder woman creating my own vision.” I didn’t fully understand what I was doing then. I do now.

This scares me. Which tells me everything I need to know about how much it matters.

This is the beginning of that journey. And I’m sharing it here as it unfolds. The uncertainty, the breakthroughs, the process of becoming in real time.

Because I have a feeling this isn’t just my journey.

It might be yours too.

Because what I’m about to say isn’t something you admit out loud. Not on Mother’s Day. Not when everyone around you is posting flowers, brunch photos, and gratitude.

But here it is.

There were Mother’s Days that made me uncomfortable. Not because I didn’t love my mom, but because our relationship was complicated in ways I didn’t yet have words for. And I carried that shame and guilt quietly.

During one of those seasons, I went to my ‘therapy’ place… Art.

I was having one of those hard days. Too many mixed feelings to make sense of. So I sat down and began to draw her.

As I drew, I began weaving words and flowers around her face. I wrote “Madre” and “Love” because it’s what is expected of a child. To love their mother.

Then I came across a quote that stopped me. “We are born of love. Love is our Mother.” It made me think my mom was the first experience of love I ever had. And that bond is expected to be compassionate, nurturing, forgiving, and patient. But it won’t always look sweet and kind. Love is more complicated than that.

So I filled the page with flowers. Because when I see flowers, I feel love. And that is what I wanted to feel for my mother.

What Gratitude Showed Me

Art held that space without judgment. And it gave me something I wasn’t expecting. To choose to see this woman through the eyes of gratitude. And that changed everything.

This woman left her country and children behind to go somewhere she knew no one and didn’t speak the language. She did this because she wanted to give her kids a better future, and if that is not love, what is? Let’s not forget how courageous this was!

Maya Angelou once said that people do the best they can with what they know. And I choose to believe that about my mom. Even when her actions hurt me.

It didn’t erase the pain, but it made room for compassion and acceptance.

Six Years Later

This drawing still sits unfinished after six years. But our relationship has transformed.

That’s what art can do. For me, it wasn’t therapy or journaling or a self-help book that cracked it open. It was a pencil and a blank page that created a space to be vulnerable without having to explain it to anyone.

That’s what I’m building in the Future Self Portrait program. A space for women who are ready to stop carrying what no longer serves them and start creating the story they want to live.

If this Mother’s Day feels complicated for you, know you’re not alone. You don’t have to figure it out in your head. Sometimes you can just pick up a pencil to reflect, to release, and to create a new story where love gets to mean something you define for yourself.

Details on the Future Self Portrait program coming soon. Stay close.

I was watching a movie when something made me stop and look at myself.

There was a young girl who was so afraid of being herself that she had learned to go unnoticed. Waiting for life to happen instead of creating it. So much so that her so-called friend wrote a poem about her and called it “The Girl Who Is Barely There.”

And somewhere in the middle of it, it hit hard.

I felt it in my gut, as if that was me.

Because it showed me that I’ve been playing small in the area of my life where I see myself shining. Carrying a dream in my heart and finding every reason not to move forward with it.

Tell me I’m not the only one.

You know, that version of yourself you can almost see but haven’t fully stepped into yet? And the life you want that keeps getting pushed to “when the time is right?”

I’ve been there before, and luckily, art showed me something I didn’t expect. It gave me a space to imagine, to envision the happier Claudia I so much desired.

It took time to realize it was all connected to my identity because I was oblivious to who I was back then.

However, that experience changed something in me, and it’s why my work has been about helping women step into their creativity and create a Future Self Portrait.

We don’t usually give ourselves permission to envision who we are becoming. We stay focused on who we are right now, on what’s not working, on what we haven’t done yet.

But what if you could see her? The version of you that is possible. We are always in the process of becoming. Most of us just never stop to draw her into existence.

I’ve seen it happen. And it still moves me.

Past participants have surprised themselves. One described it as an intimate vision board. Another filled her paper with words she didn’t know she needed to hear. “All that I am is becoming. You are brilliant. Choose joy.”

What made it unique is that she didn’t think her way there; she painted her way there.

This is why I’m so passionate about providing women a safe space to recreate their self-concept. To allow themselves to imagine and create it with their own hands.

This newsletter is my commitment to stop playing small and finally start taking action on what I know is my calling.

I’m ready to be the girl who is fully there.

If this resonates, ask yourself one question. What would change if you finally decided to be fully there?

Sometimes that is said with admiration. Sometimes it is not.

For a long time, I underestimated what it meant to be an artist. I thought it was only about making pretty things. I didn’t fully understand that artists are also witnesses. That they pay attention to what the rest of us are too busy or too afraid to look at.

I’m still learning this. And the more I learn, the more I believe that artists are not just making art. They are making us more human.

Because World Creativity Day and Earth Day are coming up, I wanted to celebrate two artists whose work reminds us of something we urgently need right now. Our connection to the earth. To each other. To life beyond fear.

Ana Mendieta, the body and the earth as one

When I first came across Ana Mendieta’s work, it expanded my view of art and nature as one.

Ana was a Cuban-born artist who used her own body and the natural world as her medium. She pressed herself into earth, sand, water, and grass. She created silhouettes of her body in nature and let nature reclaim them. She believed in a universal energy running through all living beings, matter, space, and time.

Her work is not comfortable. It is not decorative. It is a conversation between a human body and the earth it came from.

Ana’s work continues to speak even though she is no longer with us. and what it says feels more relevant now than ever. That we are not separate from nature, we are one with nature, as shown below. Ana is becoming one with the tree.

Picture above: Ana Mendieta. Untitled: Silueta Series, Iowa From Silueta Works in Iowa, 1976-1978, 1976-78. Color photograph. © The Estate of Ana Mendieta Collection, LLC. Courtesy Galerie Lelong & Co. Licensed by the Artist Rights Society (ARS), New York.

“The viewer of my work may or may not have had the same experience as myself. But perhaps my images can lead the audience to speculate on their own experiences of what they might feel I have experienced. Their minds can then be triggered so that the images I present retain some of the quality of the actual experience.”

She wasn’t asking us to understand her. She was asking us to feel something of our own. To let her images unlock a memory inside us of what it feels like to truly belong to this earth.

Carolina Caycedo,
the artist who listens to rivers

Carolina Caycedo is a Colombian, London-born, multidisciplinary artist who has spent over two decades doing something that most of us don’t think of as art. She researches and documents what happens to rivers, land, and communities when industrial projects take over natural systems. She makes that research visible. She turns it into something you can stand in front of and feel.

Her work asks a quiet but urgent question. What happens to us when we lose our relationship with the natural world? Not just environmentally, but spiritually, physically, as communities.

Writer Marissa Del Toro describes her work as revealing the interconnectedness between ourselves and the natural elements of rivers, stones, and trees, and extending the possibilities of how we co-exist within the natural world.

Photo above: Carolina Caycedo, River Book series, 2016. Installation view, 32nd Bienal de São Paulo. From left to right: Watu, Yaqui, Yuma, Elwha, and Iguaçu, all 2016. Marker on Canson paper; dimensions variable. Photo by: Ilana Bar / Fundação Bienal de São Paulo. Via MCA Chicago.

The River Book series tells the stories of rivers through illustrations inspired by children’s books, a deliberate choice to make environmental urgency accessible to younger generations.

Carolina’s art is rooted in a deep respect for indigenous knowledge and a decolonial way of seeing the earth. Not as a resource. As a living system, we are part of.

Though their work is different, both Ana and Carolina are offering us the same invitation. To remember that we are not separate from the earth. That's how we treat the land is how we treat ourselves.

This makes me see artists as a gift to the world. They help us feel, see, and gain consciousness of who we are as we reflect, reconnect, and imagine new possibilities.

This Earth Day, I’m curious. Is there an artist whose work has shifted how you see the world? I’d love to know.

If you’ve been wanting to reconnect with your creativity, you can join my drawing community through the Stan Store link: https://stan.store/marulandaart or email me at claudia@marulandaart.com

This is something I hear often when people find out I’m an artist.
Usually, what they mean is: I can’t draw.

I get it. Not everyone is an artist, but please stop saying you are not creative.

Creativity is much bigger than drawing or making any type of art.
Creativity is the ability to make something from nothing.
An idea, a meal, a solution, a home, a different way of seeing.

That is magic.

Children understand this naturally. They make, imagine, invent, and play without worrying if what they create is “good enough.”

Somewhere along the way, many adults lose that freedom.

Women create in invisible ways

Women especially create all the time, often without calling it creativity.

We create care, connection, routines, comfort, beauty, celebrations, possibilities, and ways to keep life moving.

As we come to the end of Women’s History Month, I want to honor a woman who transformed how we think about art: Mierle Laderman Ukeles.

In 1969, after becoming a mother, Ukeles went through an identity crisis.

She loved her child and changing diapers, but thought her head was going to blow up because she didn’t have the freedom to create art.

She realized that her artistic heroes did not have to make the same sacrifices she did as a mother. As she later put it, Jackson Pollock, Marcel Duchamp, and Mark Rothko “didn’t change diapers.”

Marcel Duchamp influenced her deeply. He spoke about the power of naming and renaming things, and that helped her see that she could name her own reality differently.

A Different Kind of Artistic Freedom

So, she wrote Manifesto for Maintenance Art 1969!

She challenged the idea that only certain kinds of work count as meaningful or valuable. She named maintenance work—cleaning, caring, preserving, supporting life—as art.

That was a radical act, an act of freedom.

As she said, “If I have the freedom to name… I choose maintenance, and I call it art.”

Ukeles helped bring attention to the labor that keeps homes, families, and cities going. She expanded the conversation around what art could be and who gets to define it.

To me, this is creativity in action.
She did not escape her reality. She transformed it.

I want to leave you with this:
When women stop creating, we lose more than art. We lose a way to process life, reclaim identity, and imagine who we can still become.

So if you have ever said, “I’m not creative,” I invite you to reconsider.

Maybe creativity has been in your life all along,
but… maybe it just hasn’t been called art yet.

About Claudia

I’m Claudia, a portrait artist passionate about bringing joy and inspiration through creative expression. I facilitate painting events, coloring workshops, and drawing lessons designed to help you reconnect with yourself, enjoy the creative process, and rediscover the pleasure of making art.

If you’ve been wanting to reconnect with your creativity, you can join my drawing community through the Stan Store link: https://stan.store/marulandaart or email me directly at claudia@marulandaart.com

If life were a painting, most people would only notice the finished piece.

They might admire it, question it, or feel something when they look at it.
But what most people never see is everything that happens behind the canvas.

The thinking.
The doubting.
The messiness.

That’s what I feel right now.

I have this vision of a beautiful painting I want to bring to life. My drawing courses, my future self-portrait program… things I’m excited to share. But the path to creating it hasn’t been as smooth as I imagined.

There have been distractions, uncertainty, and moments where nothing seems to move forward.

Right now, it feels like the painting of my life has stalled, like the image isn’t quite taking shape yet, and there are so many distractions.

Deep down, I know that isn’t true. Paintings take time. They require patience, even stepping away.

And sometimes the most important thing we can do is stay present with what life is giving us.

When Life Asks You to Slow Down

And right now, for me, it’s to focus on my furry baby.

His health has been declining slowly. At first, I thought it was age, the way people often do. But I learned something more serious is happening. His kidneys are failing.

Now my days look a little different.
A new diet.
Learning how to give him IV fluids.
Watching him more closely.

…And giving him more love than ever, because I don’t know how much time we have left together.

The painting of this moment, the one with my furry baby by my side, is still unfolding. And right now, that’s the one I’m choosing to focus on, while the rest will take shape slowly.

The Messy Middle

Life isn’t linear or perfect. Sometimes it’s slower, messier, and uncertain. But maybe that’s exactly what gives the painting its character.

More will come as I learn to focus on my furry baby and the projects I’m excited to share with you. For now, I’m reminded of something I’ve shared with students in the past: Patience.

Teaching drawing fundamentals has been one of the things I’ve kept up through all of this. Lately, my students and I have been working on one-point perspective (above).

It’s always rewarding to see them work through the same struggles I once had. And somehow, every time I teach it, I end up learning something new myself.

Another reminder I’ve learned from Dr. Joe Dispenza is to keep our eyes on the vision of where we’re going, even when the present moment feels uncertain, because after all, we are co-creators of this painting called life.

I’m Claudia, a portrait artist passionate about bringing joy and inspiration through creative expression. I facilitate painting events, coloring workshops, and drawing lessons designed to help you reconnect with yourself, enjoy the creative process, and rediscover the pleasure of making art.

If you’ve been wanting to reconnect with your creativity, you can join my drawing community through the Stan Store link: https://stan.store/marulandaart

Years ago, I learned that if we don’t choose change, life eventually chooses it for us, and it usually comes through painful experiences.

So when my heart was telling me that it was time for something new, I knew I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

It still took years to act.
Two years ago, I finally made the decision.
And now, I’m living inside the change I once feared.

The Weight of Leaving

I’ve been quiet these last two months because I moved out of the home I lived in for 21 years. The idea of something new felt exciting, but letting go… that was harder than I expected.

I avoided packing for as long as I could.
And when the pictures finally came off the wall, the grief hit me all at once. I needed a whole day just to breathe through it.

My introverted side took over. I pulled back from friends and work, not because I didn’t care, but because I didn’t have the words yet. I needed time to sit with the memories, feel the loss, and let myself release the version of me that lived there.

It wasn’t just a move.
It was a shedding.

A necessary step into the unknown so the next version of me could come forward.

Have you ever been in a similar space wanting more, but struggling to let go of what you’ve known?

A New Beginning

Now I’m in my new home with my furry baby, Rocco.
We’re settling in slowly and gently.

Writing this newsletter again feels like a quiet return to myself.

I’m excited to get back to the work I love: teaching drawing, creating, and picking up the projects I put on pause while life was rearranging me.

There’s much more I want to share, but for now, this feels like the right place to begin again.

Life shifted, but I’m still here: growing, creating, and ready to let this next chapter unfold.

In creativity and growth,
Claudia

Some say life moves in seven-year cycles, each one carrying its own physical, emotional, and spiritual lessons, a concept often attributed to Rudolf Steiner.

For me, it feels like every decade brings a major change. Something ends, something new asks to be born.

As my 30s were coming to a close, life unraveled in ways I never expected.

I went through heartbreak. My son left to join the Marines. I lost my job, and with it, the career I had built my identity around. That chapter closed abruptly, and I didn’t yet understand what was opening.

My 40s became a decade of transformation. Not the glamorous kind. The kind that strips you down.

I realized I had not loved myself, ever.

My childhood sexual abuse trauma had quietly shaped my reactions, my choices, and the way I moved through the world. It was then that I understood that I didn’t really know who I was, because I had never learned how to have a relationship with myself.

Those realizations came through pain. Looking back, I see how I had to be stripped of what was familiar to step into a new identity.

During that time, I faced old wounds I had avoided for years. I became an entrepreneur without knowing how. And somehow, in the middle of rebuilding my life, I was guided back to the basics. Back to art.

What began quietly, almost unexpectedly, became something I had always wanted but never fully claimed. I became an artist.

As my 40s came to an end, more layers fell away.

Friendships I deeply loved ended. That loss hurt, but it was different this time. It wasn’t confusion or heartbreak. It was the clear, bittersweet knowing that a chapter had closed, and it couldn’t come with me into the next one.

I found myself saying something I had said once before: “These have been the most painful years of my life.”

Except this time, it came from understanding that it’s not about ‘them’, it’s about me. Who I was has to die so the Claudia I envision can exist.

Funny enough, every piece seems to be falling into place, not because everything is perfect, but because I’m finally learning to trust myself to meet what’s next.

On December 19th, I closed my 40s and stepped into my 50s with gratitude.

Grateful to be alive, to enjoy my family. Grateful for my health. Grateful to have the courage it takes to be this honest and share it with you. Grateful for those who stayed, even when they didn’t have to. Grateful for the future I’m building.

I know this next chapter will bring even more changes. In my work. In my words. In how I show up and what I share. You’ll see that reflected in my emails and my posts as I continue to evolve.

For now, I simply want to say thank you.

Thank you if you’ve been following my journey for years. Thank you if you’re new here. Thank you if you quietly read and find something meaningful in what I share.

If you’re standing at the edge of your own transition, closing a chapter you never imagined ending, I hope this reminds you of something important:

Endings aren’t failures. They’re thresholds.

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I said this out loud to a friend recently.

I surprised myself.

Me, someone who values intentional language. Someone who cringes when I hear my younger neighbors say, “I’m just old,” as if getting older automatically means everything goes downhill.

So when those words came out of my mouth, I paused and wondered, “Am I putting a label on myself that I don’t want?”

The quiet unraveling of a life chapter

The truth is, I’ve been in a transitional phase since my son left home.
I left my career, built a business, left it. Now I’m doing it again.
My mother needs more care and help.
My body is changing in ways I don’t understand.
And I’ve chosen to leave my home of 20 years to step into complete uncertainty.

Would you call that a crisis?

I like to think of it as dreaming bigger than ever. A threshold

Maybe you get what I’m saying.
Maybe you’re between chapters. It’s like the old identity doesn’t fit anymore, but a new one is not fully formed yet.
Maybe you’re carrying more responsibility than ever while also hearing a quiet voice asking, “What about what I want?”

Gratitude that looks forward, not backward

What keeps me from being cynical and grounds me is coming back to: Gratitude.

Not gratitude for what I have or what has been, but gratitude for what hasn’t arrived yet. The kind of gratitude that says “Thank you” for what’s not yet visible.

Dr. Joe Dispenza teaches that when you feel grateful for something before it happens, you’re signaling to your nervous system: this is real. This is mine. It’s already done.

Neville Goddard said it this way: “Gratitude is final. It says ‘I have received.’”

Gratitude is what helps us move through transitions without being consumed by them. It helps us create rather than just survive.

Our brains do not feel safe in the unknown. That’s biology. But when we practice gratitude for what’s coming, we give our nervous system a new story.

And this is where art becomes powerful.

Art has a special ability to influence and change our nervous system and brain in positive ways. When we draw it, color it, visualize it, we make the invisible visible.
We give ourselves the time to reflect, to imagine the life we want, and to believe in it.

Art becomes evidence. A kind of proof.

Picture above: Practicing gratitude at the Bruce Museum

A new kind of gratitude for November

Now that we are in the month of gratitude, I invite you to practice a new kind of gratitude. The kind that puts a smile on your face because even though you can’t see it yet, you can feel it.

Join me for Cup and Color on November 25th. A conscious coloring workshop where we’ll practice gratitude for what is on its way. We’ll color our elevated emotions so we are reminded of what we want to feel more of.

Because everything starts from within.

I like you to think of: What is one thing you’re already grateful for, even though it only exists in your imagination right now?

I’m Claudia, a portrait artist passionate about bringing joy and inspiration through creative expression. I facilitate painting events, coloring workshops, and drawing lessons designed to help you reconnect with yourself, find healing, and enjoy the process of making art.

I’m also available to design custom workshops and unique painting events tailored to your group’s needs. If you’d like to plan a creative experience for your community, workplace, or special occasion, please feel free to email me. I’d love to help you create a meaningful and inspiring event.

Let’s talk about unique painting events perfect for team bonding and programming.

Ready to create with me?

Email: claudia@marulandaart.com

I still remember sitting on my living room floor about twelve years ago. It was all quiet, and I sat there, staring out the window, crying, wondering what was happening to my life.

I had just been laid off from my Freelance Art Director position. And it happened after my son had left home to join the Marines, and the end of a love relationship.

The woman I thought I was no longer existed.

I didn’t fit in my own life. The career that had defined me for over a decade suddenly felt meaningless. So much so that I never went back to it.

I tried to pretend all was fine, but it wasn’t possible.
I didn’t know what would be next, but the one thing I knew was that I wanted to feel happy.

That pain drove me to somewhere unexpected: Art.

At first, it was my escape from the sadness.
It was where I could breathe without crying.
Little did I know that the creative space would become an exploration of who Claudia was.

It became a space to reconnect with myself.
To face what I didn’t want to feel.
To reflect on what I wanted to see.

The Revelation

Looking back, I realized Art helped me build a relationship with myself.
It helped me confront what I had repressed.
It helped me envision a new version of me.

I was able to see a woman I had never met before.

That’s when it hit me: I had been oblivious to who Claudia was my entire life.

And that was okay. Because it gave me the chance to create the Claudia I wanted to be.

Of course, it took more than art. I read the books, attended transformational classes like Kabbalah, Dr. Joe Dispenza workshops, and hired coaches.

I learned a lot, but I still felt less than and incapable of real change.

Until I others help me noticed something powerful…
That my paintings were reflecting the Claudia who:

• was resilient

• was becoming conscious of herself

• didn’t know what her future held, but she knew that she was ‘Creating her own vision.’

• was, and is, a Wonder Woman.

The Gift

It took years to realize what was actually happening.

That visual image became an anchor.
That’s why I could stare at my drawings and paintings for hours.

Because each time I stared at it, it pulled me out of the past and moved me into the present—envisioning my future. Elevating my feelings.

I could feel her confidence, strength, and peace.

That’s when I learned something that no book or workshop had ever taught me:

We can’t change if we can’t see who we’re becoming.

Art took me to the next level of Claudia because I could finally see and feel her. And everything began to shift.

Now, I’m creating something for women like my past self, who want the clarity and a clear visual image of their future self.

It’s a creative space where you can work on the identity of this new you.

I’m launching it in late February, hopefully right in time for Women’s History Month.
I’m extremely excited for it, but for now, I’m curious:
If you could see your future self clearly, the woman you’re becoming,
What would she look like? How would she feel? What would she believe about herself?

I love to read your response.

Tell me if you have had moments in your life where your hands, your heart, or your lips itch to express what you felt, but fear stopped you cold?

Fear of judgment. Fear of being seen. Fear of standing for something.

I’ve been feeling that itch lately.

There are so many things that I want to say, but I stay quiet.

Doubt creeps in, and I wonder if it’s my place to speak?

That is when my fingers start itching to express what I can’t get myself to say out loud.

I see pencil lines forming on the page. I know it’s a woman I’m drawing, but I don’t see her clearly. She’s blurry, unfinished. I think about adding color. Blue for freedom, maybe.

Should I draw her sad or scared? This is when I realize that I don’t want to keep repeating the same story of the past.

Dr. Joe Dispenza teaches us to “believe in your future more than your past.” Neville Goddard reminds us to “focus on the feeling of the end result.”

That reminds me to make a different choice.

To draw her head tilted up. A pose to show she is proud and powerful, even if she carries pain. Maybe her eyes are half-closed, with a tear on her cheek. But not a tear of pain, a tear of relief, a release, from knowing the worst is over.

This is what art does.

It doesn’t just give us an outlet to dump our emotions. It gives us the power to choose which emotions we want to cultivate.

It lets us create from the future we want, not the past we’ve lived.

That’s why I created the Future Self-Portrait program.

It’s a 7-week journey for women who are ready to step into who they’re becoming, not just process who they’ve been. To paint the story they want to live, instead of rehearsing the one they want to leave behind.

I’m refining it right now, pouring everything I’ve learned into making it even more transformative. I’ll share more when it’s ready, but if this resonates, stay tuned.

Here’s what I’ve learned: even when I can’t perfectly draw the image in my mind, the very act of envisioning it changes me. The decision to focus on freedom instead of fear, on hope instead of helplessness—that’s where transformation begins.

And if you’re feeling that itch to create right now?

My 5-week drawing course begins on October 25th at 3:00 p.m.

This isn’t about becoming a perfect artist. It’s about reconnecting with your creativity and using art as a tool for self-expression. A space where you can explore what wants to come through you—without judgment, without needing it to be anything other than honest.

If you’ve been waiting for permission to express yourself, consider this.

And right now, I feel the world needs people who choose hope.

As I watch what’s happening in Gaza, I feel that itch more than ever to express what I feel.

I can’t change what’s happening with a drawing. But I can choose where to place my attention: on the future I want to help create. One where every person has their basic rights. Their dignity. Their freedom.

Some might say that’s naive. That art doesn’t change the world.

Maybe. Maybe not. But here’s what I believe: when we create from hope instead of fear, when we focus on the feeling of what we want to create (like Dispenza and Goddard teach), we shift something in ourselves first. And that shift ripples outward.

That’s where change lives,

not in what we can control out there, but in what we choose to create in here.

I don’t know if my art will change the world. But I know it’s already changing me. And maybe that’s where all change starts, from within.

If we haven’t met yet, I’m Claudia Marulanda. I’m a portrait artist and Health Practitioner who helps women use art to reconnect with themselves and step into who they’re becoming. Because sometimes our hands know how to express what our voices can’t.