Sometimes I want to burn it all down ❤️‍🔥

How do we protect the gift and honour the call in a world that rewards constant output?

I’ve been having this conversation a lot lately. With fellow mystics and artists, visionaries and sensitives…

How do we protect the gift and honour the call in a world that rewards constant output?

Here’s the truth: I never set out to create a business. I was called to create. There is a difference between answering a call and feeding or building a machine, and I think many of us are living in that tension.

All I ever wanted was to transmute what I feel in my body and the collective into something beautiful. To bring to life the visions I see when my feet touch the earth. To commune with the flowers and see the sacred that’s always been here. To commune with and protect the sacred. To create cohesive sacred experiences and spaces. To transmute dissonance into resonance. To express my gifts and be in my true nature.

What would happen if we were all able to do exactly that? Instead of contorting ourselves to fit into a system or deliver our gifts in palatable ways?

But these times and these systems that are crumbling were not built for that.

Lately I’ve been wrestling with something.

I believe that if all the artists and visionaries and healers and neurodivergent sensitives (and all people for that matter) were given the space to live in a way that is true to their nature, that the world would be in a tremendously different place.

The older I get, the more convinced I become that my work comes from giving myself a container to process and embody what I feel in the collective and in my own life and then transmute that into something beautiful.

That means time alone. And space. Without the freedom to create, the creative in us becomes captive. And the creative energy builds up and gets stuck.

If I don’t have that open container the channel gets backed up and the energy gets stuck. It affects my output, my joy, my personal life and my health.

There is a flow to the creative process that needs space and deep respect for the mystery.

And creativity is also transmission and that transmission is lost when we shift from creating to producing.

In this always on online content saturated world so many mystics, sensitives and artists have been expected to operate as business people at the cost of the potency of the gift. To contort their true nature at the cost of their bodies and the potency of their gifts.

Spend too much time producing and outputting, and eventually the well runs dry.

We need to find sustainable ways to let the visionaries, temple keepers, healers, mystics and artists be who they are without having to contort and focus on output or managing people or watering down the transmission to make it more palatable. Art is meant to confront. Healing and mystery does too.

For me, transmission is everything.

The words are a container. A book is a container. A deck is a container. A peice of art is a container. The transmission is the thing.

And I’ve been thinking a lot about where that transmission comes from.

I don’t think it comes from the words themselves. I think it comes from the years spent living the question. The grief. The beauty. The confusion. The mystery. The experiences that changed us. The things we could not stop thinking about. The things that worked on us until something inside shifted. And then, eventually, finding a way to give all of that a form. And that requires space. And a certain kind of support.

And I’m not talking putting a big team around them because then they get stuck in another system and spend their time processing the system and sitting in meetings and reviewing work trying to inject their magic back in it. That is not sustainable and it stops the flow of magic.

What i’m talking about is a whole new way.

Throughout history there have been artists, writers and visionaries who disappeared from the world for seasons because the work demanded it. Some had patrons. Some had people quietly carrying the practical load. Many lived in circumstances that afforded them freedoms women - especially mothers - rarely had.

Then I think about nature. Surely that’s the ultimate creator.

There is no latest new launch plan or shiny new growth plan in the wild.

No content calendar. No algorithm. No bio-hack. Just seasons. Awe. Aliveness. Magic. Mystery.

Some plants thrive immediately. Others appear to struggle for years before suddenly surpassing everything around them. Everything has its own timing.

The roses aren’t panicking because the foxgloves bloomed first. The hydrangeas aren’t comparing themselves to the peonies. Nothing in the garden is running on a wheel, desperately trying to outrun itself.

Everything is responding to its own nature. Its own timing. It’s own aliveness. We’ve built systems that reward constant extraction from the creative source instead of protecting it.

I know way too many stories of the most incredible artists being eaten up by the very thing they were serving.

Some questions I’m asking myself:

What do I actually want to spend my precious life force doing?

How can I build my life in a way that is true to my nature?

What resources and support do I genuinely need in this chapter of my life?

How can my business support my gift rather than my gift supporting my business?

Do I even need a business? Or is there another model waiting to emerge?

How can I honour the deepest potency that is trying to come through me?

What am I spending energy on that I don’t even want to be doing?

The call grows. Support is needed. Structures are built. And before long, the thing built to support the work begins demanding attention of its own. And the risk is that it feeds off the very thing it intended to support.

When I reflect on the artists, mystics, writers and visionaries I admire most, what strikes me is not their success. It’s their devotion. Their willingness to step outside the pace of the world. Their willingness to follow a question. Their willingness to disappear into a mystery for long enough that it changed them and in turn the world.

And lately I find myself longing for more of that.

Perhaps this is why I’ve been spending so much time in the garden lately.

I’m curious how this lands in you. Have you been asking similar questions or having similar conversations? I’d love to hear in the comments.