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Posts by Elizabeth Bryan-Jacobs

Elizabeth Bryan-Jacobs is an artist, emerging art therapist and bestselling Chicken Soup for the Soul and Soul Models author. She is passionate about sharing the healing powers of art-therapeutic interventions in groups and in hospice settings.  Elizabeth and her husband, artist Bobby Jacobs, also founded “The Spread Your Wings Project,” a 501 (c) 3 devoted to sharing the profound benefits of the arts and art therapy. To learn more, visit  .elizabethbryanjacobs.com , creativeawakenings.net and thespreadyourwingsproject.org.

Elizabeth Bryan-Jacobs's Website

Mindfulness, Creativity, and Nature: A Healing Trifecta for Lasting Peace

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“It is the marriage of the soul with nature that gives birth to imagination.” ~Henry David Thoreau

Before my accident, before we had kids, after we divorced, after my father died from Covid, before the pandemic…

We tend to divide our lives into the before and afters that define our world, whether personally or on a grand scale. These divisions offer context, providing a kind of roadmap that supports us in reflecting on the beauty and darkness, the decisions we made, and who we might be if certain things had never occurred.

I have always believed that the only reason …

Compassion Is the Key to Overcoming Hardship (and Insomnia)

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“You can never know how many lives you’ve touched, so just know it’s far more than you think. Even the tiniest acts of love, kindness, and compassion can have a massive ripple effect. You have made the world a better place, even if it doesn’t seem like it.” ~Lori Deschene

I never had trouble sleeping until I got divorced. I never had a nervous breakdown either. Bankruptcy, fighting for custody of my children, and losing my business and my home definitely pushed things over the edge.

What made matters worse is that unabated, stress-related sleep deprivation can lead to …

Why I’m Grateful for Accidents, Pain, and Loss

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“If you have nothing to be grateful for, check your pulse.” ~Unknown

I couldn’t feel my legs.

There wasn’t any pain, just this odd “sameness” of non-sensation.

My body was frozen as I turned my eyes downward to scan down my nineteen-year-old body. Below my knees, my legs were splayed out in a very peculiar way. I was halfway underneath my car, pinned down to the dirt and gravel of the road by the back right tire.

The tire had caught my long, curly hair and the puffy left sleeve of my new white peasant blouse, miraculously missing my face.…