Lexi VanRose

In a space of women, something ancient softens and rises at the same time.

Movement becomes language.
Laughter becomes medicine.
And the parts of us we’ve kept quiet begin to feel safe enough to return.

There’s a kind of power that isn’t loud —
it’s gentle, grounded, and deeply present.

A reminder that we don’t need to perform to belong.
We don’t need to harden to be strong.

When we’re met with openness, we remember who we are.

Grateful for this space,
for these women,
and for what came back to life in me. 🌿🤍

This year has been one of the hardest of my life.
And somehow, I knew it would be.

The last two years have tested me beyond anything I thought I could hold. Everything I’ve seen, everywhere I’ve been, every version of myself I’ve had to meet — I can’t imagine my life without those experiences now. I’ve made peace with what I’ve walked through, even the parts that hurt.

I also see how there are still pieces of me I’m afraid to release.
Not because they’re good for me, but because they’ve been with me for so long.
Sometimes our attachments hide what we need to see.
Sometimes memories feel real enough to mistake for destiny.

But I know now — memory isn’t the end goal.
And comfort isn’t always home.

There is more for me to witness, more for me to become.
That’s why this butterfly effect painting poured out of me so naturally.

I see the butterfly effect everywhere in my life now — how one moment shifts everything, how one person changes the trajectory, how sometimes I play the villain in someone else’s story, sometimes the antagonist, sometimes the protagonist.

But always… the main character in my own becoming.

And we all are.

We move through each other’s lives, multiplying energy, altering timelines, leaving imprints that matter. If even one soul were removed from the equation, everything would be different.

I’m deeply grateful for every soul who has crossed my path —
the ones from my past, and the ones I haven’t met yet.

This painting holds that truth.
The yellows, the oranges, the blues.
The butterfly wrapped in darkness, yet flaring with color.
Light and shadow intertwined, shaping what we see, who we become, and what we dare to feel.

This is the butterfly effect of my life —
not just survival, but transformation.

🦋✨ This paintings isn’t finished, but wanted to share how much I’ve gotten done since the snow storm.