The Garden Sleeps

I find that a funny contrast of energies collide in December. On one hand I am bombarded by an annual hustle and bustle — family members asking me what my plans are for this date and for that date, making sure to order gifts with enough time for me to wrap them, packaging holiday orders, readying myself for holiday markets.

But juxtaposed to this surface-level buzz, there is a deeper, more authentic request. It is one that springs up from my soul and begs for my attention. It is a request of reflection, an invitation to stillness, one that asks me to light a candle and bathe in the glow of my Christmas tree with my phone on Do Not Disturb.

I find that each year, this request for reflection becomes harder and harder for me to set aside. A deep discomfort grows. It is as if by not heeding this call, I am separating from myself. As if I am living an untruth that must be shed.

You see, I am growing near the five year anniversary of two things: my painting practice, and my homeopathic practice. Five years feels like a triumph. I have kept both of these dreams alive and growing for this long. I have nurtured them, I have tended to them, and they in turn, have grown and developed me.

It’s a symbiotic relationship to chase a dream and run a business. In one practice I get to witness the deep healing of other humans, and the other feeds and nurtures my inner child. I find that I heal through my patients, and I find that my inner child and I are in constant dialogue. I hear her, I heal her through creativity.

The business side of these things are an entirely different venture. A perpetual learning process where I am a student always, I am constantly experimenting, and humbling myself to lessons that seemingly have no end.

There is something about the five year mark that has had me both reflecting on what I have built while simultaneously realizing that there are things that need to be tweaked, things that need to change completely, and things that I need to release altogether.

When I talk of desires, I find I often ask myself and others, “What do you want?” What I have found in this past year is that answer can sometimes be difficult to define. I want freedom, I want space, I want more time to be bored so that I can find more inspiration. This year, I only uncovered these desires through the discovery of what I do not want. I do not want to be burned out. I do not want to be chasing something that does not align with who I truly am or who I have become. I do not want to run myself ragged. I do not want to wish constantly that I had more space to paint or write.

And I have this problem, this beautiful problem, where I believe that if my soul is begging for change, that success must be found through transmuting myself. That if I don’t like life this way, that must mean that if I follow my heart, then alignment, success, prosperity, freedom, health must follow.

In this year of discovering what I do not want, I uncovered latent dreams. Ones to which I once said “I’ll do that someday.” Well, it appears that “someday” is now rapping its frozen knuckles at my front door. It appears that “someday” is germinating under the frozen soil, as the garden sleeps.

It has been both excruciating and breathtaking to find what I do not want. I see now that sometimes I toil to find that the result is underwhelming and even harmful though prosperous. That two truths can exist, that there can be good in something that is also robbing me. This antagonism has informed me once again of my someday dreams. Reminds me that I have built the garden bed, I have tilled the soil, and come spring, I will be ripe for the growth of a new crop.

For now, I germinate. For now, the dreams live in gestation. For now, I rest and I reflect and I know all timing is divine.

A blessed Midwinter and a Happy Holiday to you all. Thank you to each and every one of you who have supported my work this year. I am so grateful for you and I look forward to sharing with you what is to come in 2026!

with love,

Katie