Updated: Mar 2
Have you ever walked inside a trailer or a peer-and-beam construction home? If yes, then you know the feeling of walking on a floor that floats slightly above the ground. There is an itty-bitty give in each step and sometimes a whispering wooden complaint, a reserved creaking, reminding you of the slight suspension and that you are, indeed, hovering over the land below.
Ever feel as if life does a costume change into this suspended floor? Sure, there is support, you can walk forward, even jump up and down and have confidence placing your heavy furniture in the room. And sure, you can live this way for years (decades even). But you are not on the ground. You are not in contact with that which grounds you.
I had an experience recently where I felt like the suspended floor I thought was holding me up, dropped down. Not literally, of course. But my experience of this energetic thud was straight to the ground. And oddly, it was liberating. I hadn't realized how much energy it took to hold up a foundation, an idea, or a projection of expectations until I let it go. Imagine working your muscles to the point of fatigue and then you just have to release the weight. Even the 5-pound weights.
And you step back, grab some water, and rest.
This image above may seem like a Colorado mountaintop, but it is indeed a snowy day in the desert mountains just north of Las Vegas, Nevada. Last week on Mt. Charleston, to be exact. Snow in the desert is a wonder. It is a beauty that frames horizon lines, outlines the fence posts, and exposes tracks usually hidden. After a month of some unexpected experiences, it was good to spend some time up in the snow, be in contact with the power of this big mountain and stop at a fence post guiding a pathway buried in white.
March is usually the month of early gardening, planning for the burst of spring, and letting go of winter. For some, winter will continue a bit longer (especially those normally under snow for another month at least in the Northern Hemisphere). For those of us in the southern United States, we will begin to plan our gardens, start seeds inside and look for “last frost” dates as we spend prep time outside on sunny, but still cool, days.
In my studies with the Five Element Theory, seasons are particularly important in growth and release cycles. Seasons mark points on a path in the journey of a year. All life has a cycle of beginning, middle, and end, some longer than others. Certainly, a butterfly’s life cycle (average 4 weeks) is much shorter than a Giant Tortoise’s (average 100 years) or a Greenland Shark’s (300-500 years), but the butterfly's importance in the pollination of flowers cannot be overstated. Every season and cycle provides different supports for each phase of life, big or small, it all counts. (read about the 10 longest-living animals here).
If we take the theory of seasons and apply it to our personal experiences, we can imagine that some of us might experience more internal wintery snow/introspective narratives while others might be finding warmer/early spring sagas despite what it looks like outside. Inside, we might find our seasons are changing into a new growth phase or a letting go chapter or building beneath-the-surface energy toward new creative life. Just like a seed in the ground or a dormant tree bursts with new life in spring, each phase is more than what you see.
When the “floor” dropped out beneath me, it felt like I instantly stepped into a new season and a new cycle. I had a realization about my connection to my energy and my business energy. I was holding up business energy trying to do something that would fit in all gift shops, books stores, and homes. I realized I am more authentic to my artwork, my message, and to you, dear reader and fellow art lover, when I quit trying to hold up the floor for everyone and instead, simply invite you in.
So, come on in. I'll hold the door open to all who are interested in joining me for a cup of tea and chatting about life, art, and the awe of nature, I’ll hold some informal chats here on the blog.
While I settle into this new season of being, I’m also looking to expand my wholesale outreach and would love your suggestions for places you think the tea towels, Wisdom Keeper journals, and washi tape might be a fit. Holler and let me know if you know of a great place local to you. Instead of being all things to all places, I’ve decided to actively seek out those businesses that appreciate the journey of being human and the ways we share.
In the meantime, be curious, live curly, and get creative. There’s every reason to do so.
To reach me directly with wholesale suggestions – contact me here.
To go to my wholesale shop – go here.
To order from Cher the Fire for yourself and your loved ones – explore here.