All good things start low.
The things that start small and grow and become full with life. They start as seeds buried in the ground, cradled in the dark, waiting for the light.
I’ve been slowly arriving at my own dawning these last few months.
Sometimes the best business decisions are rooted in soul more than strategy. And I’m saying that as a strategist.
Creating isn’t just about the promise of what could be one day, but the practice of showing up for what is day-by-day.
It’s not about the big breakthroughs, but the 1000 tiny steps we take to get through.
When things are no longer working, friend, you have permission to stop doing them. And find out what you need to be doing instead.
So, fun fact… Did you know I write you most often sitting on my floor? Now you do. WYSIWYG me and a keyboard showing up from the studio floor.
From this floor… baptized in tears, splattered in paint, it has held the weight of my grief these last months. A silent witness supporting me even on days I wished it would swallow me whole instead.
It has refused to pronounce judgment on my bad-brain days when the neurons only fire profanity and the manufacturer’s warranty has expired. Refunds and exchanges are no longer options.
It is from this floor I rise and on it, I stand. And from it, I write, scribbles fanned out on thesaurus-page treasure maps.
I don’t want to post mixtapes of all the things I’ve studied just so you can have one more thing to file and read when time magically reappears. Because time never does.
So, I’m here to write you words that pour courage into your hardest days from some of the things I’m learning through surviving mine.
Truth? I don’t know how to separate myself from this page. And I’m OK with that.
The best learning and business is about connection and the tender, imperfect places we show up for ourselves and one another.
Using my “business” voice… if that’s anything like my inside voice, we are in TROUBLE. I can’t fake it till I make it because I break it every time. OK, I’ll stop now. I hear that eyeball roll. 😆
I don’t know how to share the words still lost in my head, only the words I’m finding in my heart.
Floors. They are the places where idea scraps and crumpled wads of frustrated dreams go to die. They are the places we play and stack and organize and spill things on. We trust them to hold us up and meet us when we can no longer stand.
They are the first places we learn to crawl and walk, to love and be loved. Where we fall and trust and get lifted up from.
So yes. We’ll learn. Together.
I’ll talk about creative business, content strategy, and all the categories eventually. But none of it matters, until it’s settled we are forging a space here that is both safe and brave. (Thanks Scott for that phrase again.)
I’m writing you from the studio floor the letters of encouragement sometimes I most need to hear myself. Vulnerable ones. Spreading my heart wide open to welcome you in.
Because deep down I’m not writing to increase my SEO score, or because it’s a good content strategy, or because I’m trying to get something from you.
I’m writing because you are wanted here. You matter. You aren’t alone. And this space won’t be the same without you in it.