Essential Drawing

Next week on the 3rd of July I will be releasing a course I have been working on and been inspired by the past few months: Essential Drawing.

In this course, I’ve gathered a map and a toolbox to help you explore, grow, and navigate your own creative force—expressing it safely through drawing and painting with simple materials. This is a space to meet what arises in the process, to digest and alchemize internal emotions into awareness, growth, and, of course, art.

It’s both interesting and unsurprising how I found myself moving through the very processes I share here during the course’s creation. I had to allow moments of chaos, then slowly gather what was needed and let the rest fall away—like a sustainable fisherman. I had to welcome periods of rest as vital spaces for integration. The waves we ride in the creative process—any creative process—are life force itself, moving through us, our bodies, our lives. Life becomes the canvas where beauty expresses itself, and this beauty, when polished free of ego, is what mystics call the Soul of the Earth. Wisdom.

Life force is power—and power is both creative and destructive. The more creative we are, the more potential we hold for inner destruction if not supported. So, this course includes not just drawing exercises, but meditations and reflections to help you create a soft, fluid container for your creativity—so you can meet it with grounding, care, and response-ability.

As someone who is both highly sensitive and deeply creative, learning to live with life force—learning to meet her with freedom, respect, and intelligence—has been a lifelong journey. Forging a middle path between being swept away by rapture or shutting it down entirely is a delicate skill that asks for constant refinement. But in my experience, it brings the rich reward of integrity and freedom—not to mention the joy of experiencing and sharing beauty with our loved ones, clients, and communities.

This course is rooted in the belief that creativity is a birthright. We all carry creative force in our bodies—it just expresses itself differently in each of us. Through the lens of drawing, we’ll explore this theme in depth. Drawing is a wonderfully accessible medium—all you need is paper and a pencil. In the resources section, you’ll find a list of my favorite materials, with brands and options to suit different needs.

You can begin right where you are, as you are. This course is for meditators drawn to art, artists drawn to meditation, and anyone curious about bridging creativity and soul.

Across nine modules, we’ll explore portraiture, still life, nature drawing, and shadow work. Each module in the first half focuses on one of these themes, supported by exercises and meditations to awaken your perception and sensitivity. Midway through the course, we’ll pause for rest and letting go—with rituals and practices to support emptying the vessel, so to speak.

The second half of the course dives deeper into the inner landscape. We’ll explore the psyche and energy: learning to perceive and illustrate the aura and chakras, and engaging with polarity through dance, drawing, writing, and meditation. This half unfolds as a natural progression from the foundations we’ve laid.

There are no videos—only audio recordings and written prompts, accompanied by images of my art and studio. This is intentional: to support your full presence in your own environment and to avoid overstimulating the senses. This course is designed to grow sensitivity.

The course is in English. Written prompts can be automatically translated through the website. Meditations are in English.

Instead of weekly live sessions on Zoom, I offer one-on-one guidance via voice notes (by phone or email) for each module. This way, participants receive personal support without additional screen time.

This course is a journey inward—guided by beauty, art, presence, somatic movement, and energy work. It distills my own exploration of these fields over the past twenty years. I hope it serves and inspires those who choose to walk this path with me.

We begin on July 3rd. Sign up here.

With love,
Nalini

A cleansing flower shield

Floral veil

Yesterday, I went to Florence for a day visit. I had to pick up my Swedish passport at the consulate. I took the train early in the morning and walked all the way to the consulate—it was still quite cool, not too warm yet, and I enjoyed the morning air. On the way back, though, the city had heated up.

I stopped at one of my favorite tea shops, La Via del Tè, to get some Sencha. It’s a quality tea shop you can find in some big cities. I had run out of my home stock, and Sencha is my daily treat—I drink it every day. I love the herbal, grassy notes and the kind of quiet alertness I get from it. Matcha lattes are good, but I prefer Sencha—it’s simpler, without the sugar element, and more grounding for me.

After that, I went to visit my friend Giulia. We had lunch together and then visited her new home-in-the-making. She’s an interior designer, and she and her husband are creating something truly beautiful in the center of Florence. It was such a joy to be there, to see the textures, colors, and choices coming together, and to witness this moment of transition in her life.

Later, we had a delicious Sicilian granita. And then I made my way back to the station, totally exhausted. I caught an early train around 4 p.m., and on the train, I gave a Healy session to a friend who’s recovering from trauma after falling from her horse. We’ve been doing a series of sessions to help support her energy field as she heals. These kinds of falls often awaken deeper layers—old things buried in the body that want attention—so this work can be very tender and important.

When I got home, I ate some cooling soup I had made earlier in the week—full of greens and parsley—with a bit of white rice. And then in the evening, we had our weekly Yoga Nidra for Sensitive Souls session, which was very sweet.

I always draw inspiration from what I’ve lived that day. Everything is connected. When I prepare a nidra, I trust that what I need is also what others will resonate with—that we’re tuning into the same thread. Last night, I created a practice that was centering and nurturing. We moved through all the chakras with alchemy bowls, cleared the energy field, rooted ourselves in the central channel, and gently cleansed the auric membrane. Then we rested in the awareness that simply bringing attention to the body is already a form of care.

Needless to say, I was deeply tired afterward. I had absorbed a lot from the day—from the city, from the healing session, from the group field—and I had very messy dreams.

So this morning, I knew I needed some support. I have a small pantry where I keep my flower essences—ones I’ve made throughout the year when a particular flower has called to me—and a collection of organic essential oils I’ve gathered over time. I made myself a cleansing and protection mist. I sprayed it around the house, on the things I brought back from outside, and gently around my heart and body.

I truly feel how deeply our subtle body responds to plants, to pure botanicals—to their care and intelligence.

So today, I’m sharing this protection mist I called Floral Veil recipe for subscribers. I hope you enjoy this way of tending to your own field, too.

Read and subscribe on my Substack The Well’s Weaving to unlock recipe

The power of silence

Watercolour 2025

Last night’s Yoga Nidra for Sensitive Souls was recorded live during our weekly gathering, and I’m feeling so much joy to share the replay with you here.

Before each session, I take half an hour to sit, tuning in and creating the energetic field we enter together. Last night, I felt a strong call for clarity and spaciousness. I created the space around me using different shades of white—textures and materials that invite stillness. A soft white sheepskin beneath me. A large, off-white shell from my mother’s collection. Selenite and a clear quartz crystal on the altar.

I lit two white candles and offered herbs I had gathered that day: wild mugwort from my walk, a sprig of white sage growing on my terrace, and a small quaint pinecone. These quiet gestures, these invitations to presence, helped form the container.

I also positioned two singing bowls: my crystal alchemy bowl, resonant with the sacral chakra, and my crisp white quartz bowl, which to me moves through the heart, the throat, and even the head. At times I added the delicate sound of African chimes, whose woody sounds dance beautifully with the bowls’ tones.

As I guided the practice, I spoke about the importance of cultivating inner silence especially now, when the collective psychic field feels so charged. Returning to the stillness within ourselves is not just healing; it’s a quiet offering to the world. When we hold spaciousness inside, we ripple that frequency outward. We remind the collective field that presence is possible, and that peace is not only a longing, but a living embodied reality.

May this practice be a sanctuary for your sensitive soul.

With love,

Nalini X

Replay the live by becoming a Substack Paid Subscriber

Or in the Magnolia Library

The Making of RIDDLE MOON

Riddle Moon, 2020

In 2020, during the hush of the pandemic, I created a book called RIDDLE MOON — a collection of poems drawn from my dream diaries, gathered gently over several years, beginning in 2017.




I’ve always been a vivid dreamer. Early on, one of my therapists suggested I start keeping a dream journal. It became a deeply nourishing morning ritual — and it continues to this day. Each morning, I sit quietly with a cup of green tea or an herbal infusion, and open my beloved journal, always from a small bookshop in Bologna that binds their own notebooks with handmade paper. The texture of the paper, the stillness of the hour, the slow unwinding of dream images — all of it feels like entering another kind of reality.




These dream fragments and early-morning writings became the heart of RIDDLE MOON. The book is both a record and a reflection, an offering from the liminal space between sleep and waking. It holds symbols, sensations, riddles, and quiet revelations.




Alongside the poems, the book contains a series of paintings and photographs I made during those same years. Most of the artworks are abstract — they move with feeling rather than form — and they accompany the reader on a journey. A journey of emotion, of mystery, of atmosphere. Just as the poems emerge from the dreamworld, the images speak in their own symbolic language.




The book was designed by one of my closest friends, Chiara — a gifted artist and designer. We chose a paper with varying tones of white to give the paintings their full expression, letting their subtle hues and textures emerge softly from the page. The cover is made of recycled paper created from lavender waste — it has a muted, indigo tone, and feels just right in the hands. The title isn’t on the front, but on the back. On the front, there’s only a central sigil I drew, holding the book’s initials.




Inside, Chiara added tiny moon phases beside each page number. As you leaf through the book, you’re met with the slow rhythm of the lunar cycle, quietly turning in the margins.




I often encourage people to open the book at random, as you would a card or an oracle. RIDDLE MOON isn’t meant to be read in a linear way. It’s a book to wander through.




Here are the opening words:


Dedicated to the sea

at night



where the moon

sees herself.


Back cover. The cover is made of waste from the production of lavender essential oil.

Inside: poetry, paintings, drawings and photography.

This was a period in my life when I was doing deep inner work — especially around healing the wounded feminine within. A lifelong journey, really. I see now how this thread of wounding, remembering, and reclamation moves throughout the book. That’s part of why I chose the title RIDDLE MOON — to honor the mystery and intuition of the feminine, the dream world, the cyclical and the sacred. The moon doesn’t give answers. She offers presence, emotion, subtle light. She asks to be felt, not solved.








RIDDLE MOON was a labor of love — made slowly, by hand, in collaboration with dear friends and deeper forces. I’m grateful to finally share it beyond my own circle.




~ You can order your copy here:

https://nalini-ruha.com/shop/riddle-moon-book





In the coming weeks, I’ll also share the story behind my other book, Let the Hate Kill You, and the path that led to its birth.


Until then, thank you for dreaming with me.

Sea rituals: Abhyanga in the early light

[leggi in italiano]

As summer begins to unfold, I find myself pulled more and more to the sea. This time of year, the light arrives early and beckons gently. I leave my little hilltop village just after dawn and begin the walk, an hour and a half through forest and path, where the mountains meet the sea.

There are closer beaches, but this one is my favorite. It’s hidden, quiet, and requires a bit of effort to reach. The descent is steep, just enough to work up a good sweat. Once I arrive, I dip into the cool morning waters to cleanse, then lay down and dry off slowly in the early sun.

And then comes the anointing.

This is one of my most beloved rituals of the season: Abhyanga by the sea. I bring with me my womb oil, a sun-infused olive oil with hops, mugwort, and lavender. (I’ve shared the recipe before.)

There’s something deeply nourishing about oiling the body after a swim in the sea, especially under the soft touch of the first sunlight. I give special attention to the kidneys, belly, and feet. These are the areas that call to me most: places that seem to ask for warmth and care. You might find that your body calls for different places. Listen to it.

As I anoint, I sometimes imagine the oil cleansing not just the skin but the inner tissues too. These herbal oils penetrate deep, bringing nourishment to the muscles, the bones, the nervous system. The sun seems to help them travel even further inward, a sweet nectar medicine.

After anointing, I lay for ten more minutes in the sun: face-up, then on my belly, soaking in the warmth. Then one more swim to wash it all away, to complete the circle.

It’s a ritual I treasure, simple, profound, and deeply regulating. If you live near the sea, or if you’ll be visiting the ocean, a lake, or a river this summer, I highly recommend trying it. Find a quiet moment in the morning light. Let the land, the water, and your own hands care for you.

This post is part of the Abhyanga Love series, introducing Yoga Nidra for Sensitives, a weekly gathering designed to offer restoration and reconnection through deep rest and body care. We meet tonight at 9 p.m. (CET).

🌀 Zoom link to join:

https://us06web.zoom.us/j/89713106452?pwd=IuW8TYf76j3mcyBaRGFbEX2U4mEZKg.1

Meeting ID: 897 1310 6452

Passcode: 110135



Let me know in the comments if you try this ritual or if it inspires something of your own. These practices are meant to open doors into tenderness, doors I believe we all need, especially now.

Essential Drawing: A Nine-Week Journey into Drawing, Awareness, and Embodiment

[Leggi in italiano]


This course has been in the back of my mind for many, many years. I always knew I would create it.

Over the past few years, I’ve gone through various trainings in bodywork, and throughout it all, drawing has always been quietly present. Drawing as a way of understanding, of feeling. Drawing as a way to express what I couldn’t articulate in other ways. Drawing as a way to witness my emotions—because I deeply believe that life longs to be witnessed, especially the unconscious parts of us. When we witness them, they can grow and evolve.

By Hanne Hvattum

Some of you know that my background is in the arts. I studied fine arts when I was very young, in a family of several painters and artists. Later, I graduated in fashion design and worked for over a decade in London as an illustrator, designer, and photographer, including for well-known names. I also had my own painting studio in East London.

During those years, my meditation and yoga practices were also quietly growing. These two worlds—art and inner work—began to dance together in my life. Sometimes close, sometimes apart. It has been a lifelong journey to find a container that could hold both.

In the past decade, I’ve explored embodiment more deeply—through dance, performance, massage, and somatic therapy. Now, with this course, I want to bring all of these worlds together.

What I’m sharing isn’t a method or technique. It’s more like an invitation. A path into drawing as expression, as witnessing, as growth, as awareness, and as embodiment.

The course is made of nine modules, released weekly. Alongside them, I’ll host weekly live Zoom sessions where we’ll explore the theme together. These include Q&A and space for group connection. You’ll also have two opportunities for direct one-on-one interaction with me via email or voice notes, during the nine weeks.

By Hanne Hvattum

This is an open container—you can use the course however it best serves you. That’s how I would approach it too: begin, and see where it takes you.

You can use it to renew your inspiration as an artist, or to reconnect with your creativity even if you don’t consider yourself an artist. No technique is required. You just need a pencil and some paper.

There will be many prompts to choose from. Although one module is released each week, you’re welcome to take your own rhythm—perhaps one module per month. Everything is recorded, and you’ll have access until the end of 2025.

By Hanne Hvattum

This course also approaches the creative process through the eyes of the meditator and the inner witness. It offers a gentle, sustainable way of working with creative energy—something that can feel overwhelming or even painful for many artists and creatives. The act of making art can stir deep emotional and energetic currents, and Essential Drawing honors that sensitivity. As part of the course, there is space for rest—an entire dedicated module—and guidance on how to read and respond to your own energy. You’ll learn to recognize when to lean in, when to soften, and how to stay connected to yourself throughout the process. This is an invitation to create not from urgency or force, but from a grounded, embodied rhythm that supports both your art and your well-being.

I’ve poured so much of myself into this course, and I truly hope you enjoy it.

Join Early Bird until June 19th.

By Hanne Hvattum

Uniqueness and oiling the body regularely

[leggi in Italiano]


I spent the weekend helping out some dear friends at their meditation center, and one afternoon I found myself exploring the North and South Nodes in the birth charts of nearly all their participants. It was such a sweet moment. I’d never done so many in a row before, and it made me reflect deeply on how different we all are.

We live in a time where so much advice is standardized—blanket recommendations on how to eat, live, sleep, heal. What I love about astrology and Ayurveda—the systems I use most in my work and personally—is how clearly they reflect our uniqueness. Our paths, our destinies, our constitutions: they’re all different.

In this standardized culture, where we’re constantly receiving information from the internet on what we “should” do, we can lose touch with our own inner knowing. I feel often we attach ourselves to these trends because we crave belonging. But the truth is, when we learn to use these frameworks to look inward—to truly understand ourselves—we find rhythms that are more aligned with who we are at the core. And I believe we get better results that way.

In my individual sessions, I draw from many different systems: Ayurveda, astrology, psychic massage, resonant tension, yoga. They are all just lenses—tools to help us restructure our lives in ways that feel more authentic, more whole. Holistically speaking, we all deserve to feel deeply satisfied and to live in alignment with our true nature.

So I wanted to begin today’s post with this small reflection. Even the practices I share here are meant to be experimented with, not followed rigidly. We each have to discover our own way of working with the medicines—whether energetic or physical—that are available to us.

Today, I want to talk about the morning practice of Abhyanga, the most classic of the upangas (supportive limbs) I’ll be sharing in this series.

I’ll also include a few of my favorite oils that I’ve used over the years and really love.

The way I practice Abhyanga in the mornings shifts depending on the season, how I’m feeling, and what my schedule allows. This morning, I had just returned from an intense trip, so I took it slow. I drank some hot water and chicory coffee, and then I did my Abhyanga using a beautiful oil from Benefica that’s great for balancing Vata (which governs the mind and nervous system). It’s especially helpful after traveling or before heading into a journey.

I anointed my body with oil in the bathroom, then used a wooden lymphatic drainage paddle to stimulate my skin and tissues. I stayed with the oil on my body for a bit before patting myself dry and getting into my infrared sauna blanket for about 30 minutes of relaxation and meditation. I love using the sauna with oil on my skin—it helps the oil absorb more deeply. After that, I dried off and took a shower, which was cold today, as the weather is getting warmer.

Then I did my yoga practice. I really enjoy moving with Elena Brower—her classes are on the Glo app. I love her style: soft yet strong, and she doesn’t talk too much, which I appreciate.

After yoga, I made a smoothie inspired by Harmonic Healing by Dr. Lancaster.

Below, I’ll list some of my favorite oils and their properties. If you feel inspired to try Abhyanga but don’t want to purchase a specific oil just yet, you can start simply. In summer, if you have high Pitta, coconut or olive oil can be cooling and soothing. For a more warming oil, sesame is always a good choice.

Enjoy—and I hope to see you Monday at 9 PM for our Yoga Nidra for Sensitive Souls gathering.

Medicated oil recomendations:

Eladi Taila for eczema

Dhanvantharam for high vata

Wachholder-Brennnessel Thailam for detox

Abhyanga Love – Second Chapter: Nurturing the Navel

Oils that I use daily for belly, feet soles, face and more.

I love the way oiling the body makes one feel deeply grounded and nourished. I sometimes do it in the morning, but this winter I’ve especially enjoyed making abhyanga self-massage a nightly ritual before bed.

During my experiences with panchakarma—Ayurveda’s professional therapeutic cleansing—I discovered that after the oiling, one is placed in a steam room (or steam box), where the heat opens the body's channels and meridians, allowing the botanicals to be more easily absorbed and to penetrate deeply.

As I heard spiritual teacher Igor Kufayev say in his course Kundalini care:

“Water does not cleanse the cells—oil does.”

Sometimes I bring my oils to the beach and apply them in the sun before taking a dip. Other times, when I have access to a sauna or steam room, I oil my body and then step into the heat. The sensation on the body, the nervous system—on everything, really—is truly remarkable.

Last week, we explored a simple and grounding practice: applying sesame oil to the soles of the feet before practice or bedtime. Today, I want to introduce you to another sweet and nourishing ritual—oiling the navel.

This gentle practice can also be done before bed. You can use sesame oil, ghee, or any natural oil you prefer. One note: I’ve heard that almond oil is best avoided, as it can often be moldy and is very dry—so choose another oil that feels good to you.

For navel oiling, pour a few drops of oil directly into the navel. You can either leave it to absorb naturally, or gently massage it into the base of the navel, along its inner edges, and around the surrounding area.

Sometimes, I begin at the navel and slowly massage down toward the crease of the hips—where the ovaries rest—especially when I’m using an oil that supports the womb and ovaries.

Many many nerve endings are in the navel, so this massage will deeply ground and juice your nervous system.

And that’s it—simple, grounding, and deeply nourishing.

I personally make my own little blend for navel oiling, by infusing in organic olive oil three herbs: hops, lavender and mugwort. I harvest the mugwort myself (season is on in Italy) and buy the other two. There are many ways to infuse oil, I do sun infusions and I learned a method that really pulls out so much from the herbs from Kami McBride.

I hope you’ll join me Monday evening for Yoga Nidra for Sensitives, link is below or catch up on the last gathering here.

With love,

Nalini X


Listen to The Well’s Weaving Podcast Episode #1 on the humble devotional ritual of the footbath.

On Tenderness

[testo in italiano]

When I recognise someone embodying tenderness, I see a person who fully recognizes the vulnerability of being human—and instead of resisting it, relaxes into it.

 

I wanted to write a post about this topic. It came to me this morning because, although 2024 was such a tough year for me—and for so many others—it also offered some unexpected gifts. Energetically and in relationships, we faced so many challenges that really asked us to find inner resources.

At Andere’s Catalunya

I noticed in myself that when challenges come, I tend to harden. I tense my jaw, hold a lot in my shoulders, and push through. But in 2024—especially toward the end, though I think it was happening all along—I began to see more clearly that the true medicine of that time was asking to be found within.

Even though I received support from others, I also cultivated and internalized the frequency of that medicine. This is something I often do: I sense a specific energy or frequency in someone else, and then I receive it and try to embody it myself. It’s something I learned from one of my teachers who transmits this kind of wisdom through presence and frequency. I feel it’s a beautiful way to learn to truly be with our being and recognise energy.

Coming back to tenderness—what a powerful medicine it is. Like a balm for grief, for those moments when grief is devouring us, eating away at the ego, and drilling holes into our internal structures so they can be remade. In those painful moments of forced emptiness, tenderness is like a sweet internal hug, like a thread that enters and softly soothes the pain. It doesn’t try to fix anything—it simply stays, fully present with what is.

Tenderness is such a great witness. It holds a quiet, transformative power because it allows, it accompanies, it embraces. One of the people who helped me really embody this is a winter soul and a dear person I’ve worked with over the past few years. She has taught me so much about being with our pain, with full acceptance, love, and deep tenderness.

So I wanted to write this small reflection on tenderness—and also invite you to our second Yoga Nidra for Sensitive Souls gathering, happening this Monday at 9 PM Italian time. The first session was very sweet, full of energy, connection, and coherence. We worked on the heart. I don’t yet know what will come through on Monday, but I hope you’ll join us.

It’s a donation-based offering—come as you are, and contribute what you can. If the time doesn’t work for you, you can email me and I’ll send you the recording. I don’t know exactly what we’ll share, but I know there will be tenderness. There will be heart. There will be love. There will be intimacy—the very medicines we need in these times to trust the being within us that longs to come forth.

Love,

Nalini

Links:

This is a book on tenderness.

Discover: Yoga Nidra for the Sensitive Soul | Monday evenings at 9

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Integrated structures - Musings on body, water and effective siritual pract

Mixed media on paper 2017

I was speaking to a friend recently about structure — in the context of astrology, actually. We were talking about the planet Saturn, and it got me thinking about the feminine side of Saturn, and the feminine side of structure itself.

Today, in this weaving of the feminine into our society, I feel we’re being asked to find a structure that is intrinsic to the feminine. We are so used to structure being external and rigid — like a crane, a skeleton, or a house — something built out of material, angles, and sharp edges. And for many years, especially with the rise of yoga in our culture, we applied this idea of structure even to our spiritual lives. I know I have. To some degree, that was needed: a supportive structure can be crucial.

But now, it feels like life is asking for a deeper integration. We’re being invited to imagine a structure that is fully integrated into matter, into the feminine itself. One of the metaphors I hold is the structure of water: water can adapt to any external shape while still holding its essence. It’s flexible, alive, and always true to itself.

I feel this is a powerful way to reimagine structure, especially when it comes to our spiritual practices. Instead of practices that simply hold us in a particular form, what are the practices that help us embody our essence — in any moment, in any environment?

Last year, I heard something that really shifted my thinking: Prune Harris, a shamanic practitioner, said a practice is truly effective when it changes your state of consciousness from A to B. If you have to keep doing the same practice for 40 years without any permanent shift, then it isn’t actually transforming your internal structure — your internal waters.

Another metaphor that has been alive for me lately is plasma — that iridescent light, that living, shimmering field. It feels like such a potent way to think about the energy body — fluid, luminous, and always alive with possibility.

These are some of the explorations I weave into my offerings with The Well 1-1. In my 1:1 work, we explore these themes energetically and through personalized guidance to help you reconnect with your own intrinsic structure and essence.

I also guide a deeper exploration through my course Radical Care, a week-long journey into simplicity, energetic hygiene, and the esoteric imprint in daily life — helping you reshape your inner waters and influence the subtle layers of your being.

This is just a little introduction to the living questions I’m holding right now — and the invitations I’m extending through my work

Belonging

 

Dear Friend,

I realise that this is the first newsletter of the year, a year that for me has started wildly. Wild initiations into grief and letting go of love and ideas of love. And I am leaning into trust and finding support in relationships that help me stay with the unknown and the difficult feelings.

Holding. Softening. Allowing. Being.

I have started writing on my Substack in Italian this year, as some of you may have noticed, I did this in a wish of belonging myself to the culture and soil where I have chosen to live since a couple of years, it felt good to do this and scary to let go of the known and open up to new eyes, new readers. Again leaning into trust and not knowing where this is going. But the newsletter will stay in English and for now I plan to offer my work in Italian and English.

I have started to unpack my storage where I kept the art that I produced in Sweden in the years I lived at the Pink House, it really felt like a huge energetic step, one that I did not realise at the beginning would feel so important. As finally opening and integrating a part of me that I had put on standby. And some of the paintings are now for sale on my website in a small collection. I plan to renew the selection in the shop seasonally and play with it a bit, I really enjoy the curation process and working with it energetically feeling into what works, what elements are supportive for the season. Also at home I have hung a couple of the oils I did in Sweden and they have brought a grounding, a gravitas to the space that otherwise is very light and airy. This gravitas for me right now has been extremely grounding and healing. The oils were created with elements of the land such as ash, soil, broken seashells. They infuse the space with their alchemical earthy qualities. When I lived in Sweden I worked a lot with grief as an act of belonging myself to life, to land, to the ancestors the reminder of this process of rebirthing is a balm to my being right now.

Love,

Nalini