Last week I visited a place that felt so much like a dream that I never wanted to leave.
Ghost Ranch
Stephen and I had spent the week traveling through New Mexico and Colorado, surrounded by some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever experienced. But there was something about Ghost Ranch that captured my soul.
The mountains, the enormous sky, the air, the towering cottonwood trees. Everywhere I looked, there was something I wanted to paint.
It’s no wonder Georgia O’Keeffe fell in love with this landscape. The layers of color in the cliffs, the changing light, the vastness of it all. It was like standing inside a painting.
And then there was the library! Oh, that library.
There were shelves and shelves of art books, fiction that looked like exactly the kind of books I love to read, and an entire room dedicated to theology. I could have happily spent days in there.
We didn’t have time to hike or ride the horses, and I missed the tour of the landscapes Georgia O’Keeffe painted. There was so much more I wanted to explore. But experiencing a place where I felt so purely myself was the highlight of this vacation.
That experience at Ghost Ranch made me think of something else:
Weaving.
Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the different aspects of my life. My painting, my writing, my spiritual exploration, my work, my relationships. Sometimes they feel like separate things, each competing for my time and attention.
For a long time, I’ve been captivated by the imagery of weaving. Taking separate strands of yarn or string and creating an entire tapestry. Grandmother Spider weaving the world into existence. The spider weaving a web. Remember the Old Woman who showed up on my canvas?
“It’s Never Too Late to Weave New Dreams” by Lori Poff Kellogg, August 2026
But what if the aspects of our life aren’t separate at all?
What if they’re all threads of the same life?
Apparently, I was still thinking about that when I fell asleep, because I dreamed that I was weaving pieces of my life together to make an entirely new canvas.
And when I woke up the next morning, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.
I found a panoramic canvas I’d painted a couple of years ago. It was a painting I’d enjoyed making, but I was ready to let it go.
The panoramic painting I was ready to let go
Then I remembered an older painting of a goddess I’d created on a piece of unstretched canvas.
The goddess painting on unstretched canvas
Two paintings. Two different times in my life. Two different expressions of my creativity.
I took a utility knife and cut vertical strips into the panoramic canvas. Then I took scissors and cut the goddess painting into long, narrow strips.
Cutting both paintings into strips
And I began weaving them together.
Over and under. Over and under.
Over and under, with the original canvas turned upside down
The colors and patterns from the two paintings began to mingle. (See how I turned the original canvas upside down?) Pieces disappeared beneath other pieces, only to reappear somewhere else. Images that had once been complete were broken apart and rearranged into something entirely new.
I secured the woven pieces with Mod Podge and began painting over the surface.
I wanted to capture something of New Mexico, with its mountains, brilliant blue skies, and golden autumn trees.
Slowly, a new landscape emerged.
“Weaving My World” by Lori Poff Kellogg, October 2026
What fascinates me is that the original paintings haven’t disappeared. They’re still there, woven into the foundation of the new one.
You can see glimpses of their colors and textures beneath the landscape. Up close, the individual strips are visible, each carrying a little piece of what came before.
But step back, and you see something different.
A whole new picture.
And that resembles our lives.
We don’t begin each new chapter with a blank canvas. We bring everything we’ve experienced with us. Our joys and disappointments, our accomplishments and mistakes, the things we’ve learned, the things we’ve loved, the things we’ve lost, and even the things we’ve outgrown.
Sometimes we have to take apart an old picture of ourselves before we can discover what comes next.
And perhaps the pieces we thought no longer belonged still have something to contribute.
I’m calling this painting Weaving My World.
I don’t know yet whether I’ll return to Ghost Ranch, although I certainly hope I will.
But I love that a place I didn’t want to leave inspired me to come home and create something new.
And I love the reminder this painting offers me:
Nothing I’ve been has to be discarded in order for me to become who I’m becoming.
All those threads belong.
And I’m still weaving.
With Love and Light,
Lori
P.S. I discovered that Ghost Ranch offers self-directed artist residencies!
Imagine having time to write, paint, hike, read, and explore without having to produce anything in particular. No assignments. No expectations. Just the freedom to follow my curiosity wherever it leads. I could spend the morning writing, take a walk among those magnificent cottonwoods, paint in the afternoon, and end the day reading in the library.
I wouldn’t have to choose between being a writer, an artist, or a spiritual seeker. All those parts of me could have room to breathe. I haven’t stopped thinking about it.
And it got me thinking that some of us could create our own art residency! Not a retreat where someone else determines our agenda. Not a conference to learn new skills. Just time to be together, to be alone, to experience nature, and to create (or not) to our heart’s desire.
Doesn’t that sound like a dream?
If it does, and this is something you would seriously like to do…like next fall…let me know! We will form our own small group and DO IT! At Ghost Ranch or somewhere else! Got ideas? Bring them. Let’s talk.
This letter first went out to my Creative Connections newsletter subscribers. If you’d like the next one in your inbox, you can sign up here, and I’ll send you my free guided meditation, Whispers From The Water, as a thank-you.