You know those moments when life nudges you in a certain direction? That's exactly what happened to me. I kept seeing this trip to India pop up, and something about it wouldn't let me look away. I can't explain it – just this feeling in my gut that kept saying "maybe..." Every time I closed my laptop, my mind would wander back to it. What would it be like? Could I really do this? After days of butterflies in my stomach, I finally reached out to Catherine, who runs these special art tours. The moment we talked, everything clicked. Her voice was warm, passionate, and somehow familiar. I just knew – this was my path.

Come October, there I was at the airport, passport in hand, about to travel alone for the first time ever. My heart was racing – half scared, half thrilled. Was I crazy to do this? My suitcase felt too heavy, too light, all wrong and just right at the same time. But deep down, beneath all the nervous energy, I felt this warmth, this certainty that I was exactly where I needed to be.

Then I met my travel family – Nancy, Catherine, and Mitori. Have you ever met someone and felt like you've known them forever? That's what happened. We were Catherine's smallest group ever, which made everything feel even more special. We'd stay up late, sharing stories and dreams over cups of chai. Catherine herself was amazing – she's spent 20 years building relationships in India, and it showed in every interaction, every introduction, every story she shared. Her deep connection to the culture and people opened doors I never knew existed.

The Desia community stole my heart in ways I never expected. Every morning, I'd wake up to birdsong and the soft sounds of the village coming to life. We stayed with them for a week before heading to this incredible palace in Dhenkanal – talk about contrasts! But those days in Desia? Pure magic. I found myself slowing down, really noticing things: the way the morning mist clung to the hills, how the women's saris created rivers of color as they walked, the rhythmic sound of daily life. Even though we didn't speak the same language, we connected through smiles, gestures, and so much laughter. Their eyes – I'll never forget their eyes. They had this sparkle that just lit up something inside me, like they knew secrets about happiness that we'd somehow forgotten in our busy, modern lives.

Meal times became a ritual. We'd sit together, sharing simple but incredibly flavourful food. The women would giggle at my attempts to eat with my hands, but their laughter was so warm, so inclusive – it felt like being part of a family. One morning, I joined them in making chapatis, my clumsy attempts at rolling the dough earning more laughs and gentle corrections. These moments, so simple yet so profound, taught me more about connection than any workshop ever could.

Leaving was harder than I expected. I cried as we said goodbye, but they were the best kind of tears. You know that feeling when your heart is so full of love it just spills over? That's what it was like. Each hug felt like it carried years of friendship, each smile a promise to remember.

This trip taught me something precious – how to slow down again. My phone? Almost forgotten. Instead of mindless scrolling, I was drawing, painting, just... being. At first, the quiet felt strange, almost uncomfortable. No pings, no notifications, just... peace. I found myself sitting for hours on the little bench outside my cottage, watching the world wake up, sketching whatever caught my eye. It took me a while to remember how to just rest, to silence that voice that always whispers "you should be doing something." But once I did? Pure bliss.

And my creativity? It came flooding back like a dam breaking. Everyone knows me as the pressed flower artist, but in India, I reconnected with all the other parts of me – the writer, the painter, the storyteller. I filled three sketchbooks with drawings, notes, pressed leaves, and little memories. I even fell in love with taking photos and videos, trying to capture the way the light played through the trees or how the children's laughter echoed through the village.

“It's about keeping the flame of creativity alive, passing it from one heart to another”

Meeting the IKAT master weavers was mind-blowing. Imagine working on one piece for up to 40 years! The patience, the dedication – it was humbling. The master showed us his workshop, explaining how each thread tells a story, how patterns pass down through generations. His weathered hands moved with such precision, such love for his craft. Hearing him talk about passing down his knowledge reminded me why I love teaching my pressed flower workshops. Some people ask if I worry about competition, about students starting their businesses. But you know what? That's not what it's about. It's about keeping the flame of creativity alive, passing it from one heart to another.

The simplicity of life there showed me how complicated we've made things back home. In Desia, people didn't have much by our standards, but they had something more valuable – time. Time to sit together, to share stories, to see each other. They taught me that true wealth isn't in what you own, but in how deeply you can connect with others and yourself.

Now, this warm feeling washes over me whenever I think about India. It's like a gentle reminder to slow down, to notice the little things, and to create just because it makes my soul happy. I find myself incorporating little rituals from my time there – morning tea on my balcony, sketching just for joy, and listening when friends speak. But most of all? It taught me that the most beautiful things happen when you just open your heart and say "yes" to the unknown.

This journey wasn't just about travelling to a new place – it was about coming home to myself. Each day, each interaction, each quiet moment helped me peel away layers I didn't even know I was carrying. And now, back home, I find myself forever changed. Not in big, dramatic ways, but in the small moments: in how I see the world, how I approach my art, how I connect with others.

Would you like to know more about any part of my journey? I have so many stories to share, little moments that made this trip the treasure it was.