Letting Go to Receive What’s Next

For the past two years, much of my artwork has been sitting quietly in my basement.

Not because it didn’t matter—but because my life was in transition.

During that time, I was in the early stages of creating Rooted Wisdom, a nature-based empowerment journey for women. As that work began to take root and grow, something else became clear: the chapter of pursuing my visual art professionally was coming to a close.

I’ve continued to create art as a personal practice, but the inventory from my former art business remained—waiting. And if I’m honest, I was waiting too.

Letting go is rarely just practical. It’s emotional. Each piece of art feels like an extension of me—something once alive in my hands, my heart, my inner world. Releasing them is both joyful and surprisingly tender, a little like letting grown children leave home.

There’s a powerful metaphor often used in ropes courses: the moment when you let go of the rope you’re holding and reach for the next one. For a brief instant, you’re holding onto nothing at all. That moment requires trust—faith that the next rope will be there, and that when you grasp it, it will carry you forward.

Even if we’ve never done a ropes course, we’ve all lived that moment.

We often cling to what’s familiar—not because it still fits, but because it feels safe. We hold onto old roles, old identities, old projects, and even old pain long after they’ve finished teaching us what they came to teach. Sometimes we call it security. Sometimes loyalty. Often, it’s attachment.

Yet healing the past and releasing what no longer serves us is essential if we want to create a future that feels alive, spacious, and fulfilling.

At the end of life, people rarely regret what they tried and failed at. Far more often, they regret what they never dared to try at all. The unlived life. The risks not taken. The ropes never reached for.

This season of releasing my art inventory is part of my own practice of letting go—of choosing trust over fear, movement over stagnation, faith over clinging. It’s not about loss; it’s about making room.

And that theme—letting go to receive what’s next—is at the heart of what I’m living and teaching right now.

This winter, I’ll be guiding one-day Rooted Wisdom Winter Retreats. These are invitations to do the inner work of releasing what no longer serves, so we can step into the next chapter—into 2026—with greater clarity, intention, and openness. Because lasting change in the outer world always begins with an inner shift.

For now, I’m honoring this moment of transition—releasing the art, trusting the space that opens, and reaching for the next rope.

And trusting that it will hold.