In my own little world

Posted on instagram on March 25, 2018

A few days ago I found myself in the grasp of unexpected anxiety - I had 10 days panic free, and it hit me harder than it usually would have.
I could not help myself. The body tense, clutching. Breathing in little gulps of air. No matter how I tried to stay busy and meditate and breathe.
My mind was attacking me, repeating me the old story: "See, Alice, I told you, it was good but it couldn't last. You are back in the black hole. You are doomed for life."
I didn't want to hear these cruel words. To believe them. But it was so difficult, and all I wanted was to be able to reach that space inside of myself - that little world, all mine, where I can go and feel safe and find relief.
But I could not reach it. Just out of the grasp of my fingers.
And then I started to think if that place existed at all. Had I made it all up? Was I really delusional, and doomed to live in this hurtful hopeless state?
In the night hours, begging for sleep, I realised.

In spite of darkness, dream.

So I dreamed up these amulets.
To me, they are little worlds - all to yourself. Tiny planets to hide into. Where you can take your time to find your center again. Where you can finally slow down and find your breathing again. Where you can dream.

The outside is domed and textured like the surface of some far away planet. This is for the world to see.
The inside, to hold against your heart, is a hollow space filled with stars and abstract shapes. At first I wanted to put some sort of realistic landscape in it, but then I realised that each of us has their own images, objects and symbols of comfort... So, I'd rather give you an abstract landscape to gaze at, a tool to trigger your imagination, your own ability to dream and find the right symbols and the soul medicine that works for you.
This mini world, held against your chest, whispering to your heart, is a reminder that you can find that spark of peace again. And something like a meditation - dreaming tool to help you access it.
The solid weight of the amulets is someway grounding. Their texture is soothing tactile practice as you run your fingers on them.

La petite mort pendant

Posted on Instagram on March 21, 2018

For every death, big and small, that we experience while living.
For what it strips away from us.
For what it turns into ashes.
For the freedom it brings.
For the chains it forces us to break.
For the death to be found in life, and the life to be found in death.
Sprouting and rotting. Coming and going.
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Hand fabricated sterling silver pendant sculpture, free hand design and carving, with a drop of labradorite.

La Petite Mort Ring

Posted on Instagram on March 20, 2018

It's curious, this process. Healing.
How it is not at all linear.
How it's made up of familiar lows and unexpected highs.
I am terrified of healing. I am terrified of letting myself believe I am actually, really getting better.
Don't get me wrong, fifteen years in the grasp of depression and panic, and all the time I have been going and going and doing all I could to get out of it.
I don't like to feel all that terror and anxiety and darkness, always staring at that black mouth trying to swallow me whole.
But the past 15 days have been good.
And I mean, really good for me. For my standards.
I still feel fear and anxiety but I see myself doing noticeable steps forward; being able, at times, to do things despite the fear.
And when I stop to think about this - to think that omg I may really have a chance at life - I find resistance. A part of me is worried. So much will change. Challenges. Structures falling apart.
The mind doesn't like change.
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And I create. With an holy energy I can't even start to describe.
With a madness.
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I talk of the dance with Death.
Being someone who has been suicidal for so long, death is not a new subject. But now I see it more widely. Dare I say more wisely? Hah. That may be too much.
But I recognise Death as not only the end of this human experience. Not only as the blessed end of the nightmare.
I start to see what death is in our living - the kind of death we resist to with a vengeance: death of old personalities. Of old stories we keep telling ourselves, that aren't true for us anymore. Of relationships that are asleep and numb.
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As usual, Nature knows.
The ways in which what is dead is assimilated into the structure of what is still living. The way in which flesh and cartilage sink down into the soil and come back as grass in a new season.
The fruit rots. The flower wrinkles and surrenders to the cycle.
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So I play with death. With skulls - in silver, in pearls.
I learn to ask them to teach me to become wise, wiser. More authentic. More fearless.
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And beauty always comes and laughs and teaches me how I am worthy.

YES

Posted on Instagram on March 18, 2018

I woke up crazy with need to create this amulet. Early morning, light barely there.
Remember what I wrote yesterday, about the seed deep in the womb of the earth?
Such a small thing, wrapped in darkness - having to surrender to breaking in order to sprout, pushed and pulled by the impetuous energy of spring.
The brave little seed that breaks and grows a stem, reaching for the light - how does it even know the direction of the light in that complete darkness it lies in? Its heart knows, I like to think.
Trusting that its delicate stem and newborn minuscule leaf will have what it takes to break soil and grow and thrive.
Every time this small miracle happens, it's a seed saying YES. Yes to life. Yes to showing up. Yes to experiencing the seasons and the challenges and the glorious nourishing warmth of the sun.
Saying YES to the promise of life.
Accepting to realise its potential. .
I made three of these amulets. Each one is like taking a peek through the earth, allowing you to see the tiniest seed and its delicate stem and leaf, still wrapped in the darkness, but reaching for a golden light that is just there, just below the layer of the ground. Small miracle. Gentle promise. A hull that contains this ancient knowledge, this holy prayer. The back round and sweet and tactile, like grasping soil with your bare hands.
It can be worn both ways... With the seed toward your skin, protected, whispering to your heart; or facing out, remembering you of that deep truth each time you look in the mirror.
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May we find in ourselves the courage of the seed. May we be able to surrender to the life that is calling to us, inviting us to become what we are meant to be.
💙

Resurgere

Posted on Instagram on March 17, 2018

It isn't spring still - but despite the cold rainy weather you can see the first signs of life starting to explode again - the tiniest leaves on the roses, a brave primrose perking below the pine tree.
And something like a vibration. In the weak sun. In the flight of birds.
As if everything was on the brink of jumping and soaring, ending the silent white sleep of winter.
Excitement. Promise.
It's similar to how I feel. No more asleep, like a princess in a fairy tale, prisoner of a spell.
I don't feel ready to awaken fully and bloom and soar, still - I don't know where to gather the courage to leap and jump wildly - but what do I know, maybe the seed sprouting in the womb of the earth feels the same, pushed and pulled by this current of life, its tender self so small. Still it says yes.
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Today I sang about this, in silver and quartz.
This Lodolite that I have been hoarding for a while, with its red landscape and the sparkle of yellow, it makes me think of trees sap and of blood and of flames - of a phoenix emerging out of the fire. Sovereign.
Then leaves, tendrils, for nature knows of death and rebirth. For weeds know of resilience.
And a snake, sinuos and wise, the teacher of shedding and transforming and coming full circle - and of being yourself, but new.
The singer of this sensual energy that finds its way through our body, through the body of the Earth, fueling life, beauty.
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It's a hymn to everything that keeps going, keeps going down and rising again, a song for the little seed that gathers courage to sprout and fulfill its promise.
A prayer for us, that we may remember that we too belong to all of life and its holy run of seasons - that we may have been scorched and paralysed by merciless winters, our skin shredded by icy winds, and still we can say yes, yes, yes, arms up toward the sky, fingers magically sprouting the leaves of our soul - one step closer to fulfilling the promise we made to life.
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All love, all ways 💙