Artful Living Coaching by Jean Marshall The Artful Woman

    The Hidden Costs of Settling in Isolation Let’s talk about how people get stuck—and stay stuck—in toxic relationships. It’s not always because they don’t know better. Sometimes it’s because life circumstances set the perfect trap. And sometimes, the people around you unknowingly help tighten the lock. When I moved to this area over a decade ago, I was grieving the loss of my father. I didn’t know anyone. It was unbearably hot in the summer, freezing in the winter, and just getting outside felt like a chore. The nearest towns were bedroom communities—Temecula, Murrieta—quiet, distant, not exactly places where single people go to thrive and connect. I tried, at first, to meet people. But I kept running into strange, unstable, or just completely unaligned energy. I was vulnerable, lonely, and tired. And then I met him. He seemed okay at first. Not amazing, not wildly exciting, but “convenient.” I settled. And that’s when the real damage started. Behind closed doors, he was ma...

Let’s just get one thing straight: I’m not lazy, undisciplined, or spiritually blocked. I’m busy. I’m living real life. And while you might be out there meditating for two hours in a vortex of blissful stillness, I’ve got heat to beat, animals to feed, a business to run, and a soul that is tired of being told she’s not trying hard enough. Here’s the truth: I tried. I bought the meditations. I followed the formulas. I did the four-week programs, the six-week programs, the breathwork, the body scans, and the inner journeys. I listened to Dr. Joe Dispenza tell me to feel my body parts in space for what felt like forever . And guess what? I didn’t find my quantum breakthrough. I found myself pissed off and frustrated, sitting there thinking about my to-do list, the weather, and all the things I could be doing instead of floating in cosmic limbo hoping to manifest a miracle. I’m Done Trying to Be a Perfect Student Somewhere along the way, this work stopped feeling like transformation and s...

There comes a point on every spiritual path where we hit this strange tension: We want transformation. We want to heal. We want to step into our highest timeline, manifest abundance, and live a purpose-driven life. So we try. We meditate. We visualize. We do the affirmations, the rituals, the breathwork. And sometimes, we even float in space for 45 minutes hoping we’ll become the butterfly. But what if all that trying is what’s actually blocking the transformation? What if the more you squeeze the quantum field, the more it slips through your fingers? 🌌 The Quantum Field Is Not a Vending Machine The quantum field responds to your state of being , not your checklist. You can't force miracles, downloads, or abundance. You become the version of you that those things naturally align with. That doesn’t happen through desperation. It happens through trust . ✨ Think of the Quantum Field Like a Wild Animal If you chase it, it runs. If you sit in your stillness, it comes closer. When you...

I’m writing this blog because something clicked recently, and I want to share it with you. After studying, practicing, and digging deep into spirituality, healing, and manifestation, I found myself hitting a wall. A wall called effort . Through the teachings of people like Dr. Leslie Phillips, Dr. Joe Vitale, and even some of what I’ve questioned from Dr. Joe Dispenza, I realized this: The more effort I put into trying to be more spiritual, more intuitive, more abundant, the more I was actually blocking the very flow I was trying to invite. Let that sink in. 🌧️ What Does “Effortlessness” Look Like When You Still Desire Transformation? It doesn’t mean sitting around doing nothing. It means tuning your energy to receive instead of constantly striving to control . When you’re trying too hard to get something—money, success, clarity—your vibration usually shifts into lack, fear, or frustration. You’re subconsciously saying: “I don’t have it.” “I need to make this happen.” “I’m afraid it ...

There comes a moment in any spiritual or self-care practice when something that once felt empowering begins to feel... heavy. Like a chore. Like something you're forcing yourself to do. And that shift? That’s the signal. It’s not that you are failing. It’s that what once served you might now be stifling you. When we begin to struggle with something and feel ourselves resisting it, that’s the moment it stops being a benefit and starts becoming a burden. This is especially true in spiritual practice. You might be meditating daily, journaling, or pulling tarot cards, but instead of clarity, you're feeling foggy, resentful, or just plain exhausted. Here’s how to decode what’s actually happening in your practice: 🔮 Ritual = Sacred, Alive, Intentional Purpose-driven. You do it because it connects you to something deeper. Heart-led. Even if you repeat it, it feels alive. Flexible. You can shift it, adapt it, make it yours. Nourishing. You walk away feeling fuller, not emptier. ✨...

  For the past few years, I’ve been healing. Rebuilding. Remembering who I am. And now, I’m ready to share what I’ve learned. ✨ If you’re feeling blocked… ✨ If your energy is heavy or stuck… ✨ If you’re tired of doing all the “right” things and still feeling lost… I want to help you shift. Clear the fear. Come back to your center. And start living from alignment—not effort. I'm opening a few spots for 1:1 Artful Living Coaching —a space where we blend intuitive practices, energy clearing, mindset tools, and grounded soul work to help you reconnect with your truth. No fluff. No pressure. Just heart-led transformation. 🕊️ Contact me if you’d like to know more . Let’s talk. Let’s feel it out. If it’s aligned, we’ll walk this next part of your journey together. You don’t have to figure it all out alone anymore.

  For years, I lived with trauma so deep it tried to silence me—but instead of breaking me, it made me defiant. Everything my mother said to tear me down, I resisted. I became everything she said I couldn’t be. My mother—the person who should have protected me—was instead the source of fear, pain, and rejection. She never offered love, safety, or validation. Instead, I lived in constant anxiety and terror. The beatings were daily. And when she wasn’t hitting me herself, she had trained my middle sister to take over. The abuse was relentless. Inescapable. This was my childhood: a house ruled by violence, fear, and control. What made it even darker was her involvement in witchcraft and black magic. She used it as a weapon—threatening me with curses, wishing me dead, and vowing she would outlive her children just to watch our lives unravel. I grew up under the heavy fear that I had been cursed by the one person who was supposed to nurture me. Her cruelty didn’t stop there. She often ...

There was a time I silenced myself— Not because I had nothing to say, But because I thought nobody cared. It all started when I became a photographer. I spent years capturing other people’s stories—their moments, their milestones, their memories. I poured myself into their light while quietly fading into the background. No one ever really asked about my story. Then I moved to a town where, oddly enough, that silence deepened. Coming from Orange County, I was used to people being curious—wanting to know me, connect with me. But after moving to Lake Elsinore, it felt like no one gave two shits about who I was or what I’d lived through. Even in my church community—despite showing up, attending events, trying to build relationships—no one asked. No one seemed to care. So, over time, I just stopped sharing. I stopped offering anything at all. For years, I silenced myself. Not because I had nothing to say— But because nobody asked. Then came the stroke. Afterward, I stuttered and stumb...

  There was a time not long ago when I didn’t care if I lived or died. Before my stroke, I was drifting through life — barely holding on. I met a man who mirrored my hopelessness. We bonded over the belief that we were both done. Done trying, done caring, done hoping. And instead of lifting each other up, we became enablers. Drinking, smoking, numbing. Co-signing each other’s pain. And all the while, I was still showing up. Still photographing other people’s joy — their weddings, their babies, their celebrations. Capturing love and family and connection while quietly grieving the absence of it in my own life. I hadn’t found my person. I hadn’t built a family. My friends were users, opportunists, clinging to the remnants of my past as a model — not because they loved me, but because they wanted to say they knew me. Behind my smile was exhaustion. Behind the camera lens, a woman disappearing. The Stroke That Woke Me Up Then it happened. A stroke brought me to my knees. I reme...