Over the past few months, I’ve had the opportunity to share some of my work and reflections in BRAINZ Magazine — including two recent articles and an in-depth interview that explores embodiment, creativity, movement, healing, and the deeper value of artistic and relational work. At the heart of all three pieces is a question that has guided much of my life: What happens when human beings remember their inherent value? Is it possible to transform the pursuit of productivity, s

By Delia Brett About five years ago, I did what, to me at the time, was unthinkable: I let go. When I surrendered to that radical free fall, I learned to stand in the grief and joy of the unravelling, in the discomfort of not knowing, and to feel a greater current of trust, faith, and intuition move through my life. Over the years—through teachers, practices, and 3½ years of coaching work—I’ve come to see myself not through the lens of a 20-year-old’s longing, but as a soul o

Photo by Leon Macapagal | Design by Delia Brett I can still see myself there — a small girl, maybe five or six — sitting stubbornly at the end of the driveway. I had a little red rucksack, tied to a stick like the hobo in a storybook. I’d filled it with a few treasures, made my grand declaration, and walked out the front door. “I’m leaving!” I announced, full of conviction and outrage. I remember the tree, the ditch, the road, the school across the street. I remember the fee

Photo of Isabelle Kirouac and Delia Brett by Willoughby Arévalo | Design by Delia Brett The Reciprocity of Sensation and Being To touch is to be touched. To see is to be seen. To move is to be moved. To hear is to receive. To speak is to extend ourselves outward—to touch the world with our breath. We are built from the same minerals as the inanimate rock. When we kick a rock down the path, the bones of our feet and legs – our mineral body – are meeting itself with itself, rec

Remember When You Danced Just Because? Think about children — how much freedom they express with their bodies. They spontaneously break into song and dance, jump up and down, spin until they become dizzy and fall to the ground laughing. They scream to be swung, tossed, lifted, and flipped in the air. Begging their parents: “Do it again! Do it again!” That was you once. So what happened? Ugh. Too much “adulting.” Too many responsibilities. Too many stresses.Not enough time. No

Image from Wix - Funky Graffiti Dear Artist, I see you. I see you toiling away in the corners, on the edges, in the margins — fighting for a moment on the stage, in the gallery, in the hall, to be seen in the eyes of your audience, your contemporaries, your critics, your friends, your family, your city, your country, your culture — as exceptional. as valuable. Dear Artist, I see you. I see the ways in which you have looked with your inner eyes, listened with your inner ears,