Last week started with a hangover.
Easter Sunday, 4/20, and Taurus season all collided, and in true Taurean spirit, I celebrated a little too hard. On Easter Monday, groggy and vaguely regretful, I faced the first day of my first live launch—not quite the fresh start I'd imagined.
I’ve been feeling a lot like I’m “behind” in my business-building journey. With hustle culture messaging everywhere, and business coaches peddling programmes that promise to deliver a fully functional, profitable business in impossibly short timeframes, my progress feels painfully slow, and the usual doubts about my ability and self worth have been creeping in.
Thoughts like…
Have I made a huge mistake?
What was I even thinking?
Who do I think I am?
So I turned to my journal, hoping to make sense of the noise. My inner saboteur was loud, but I knew she was just trying to keep me safe by urging me to stay small. Almost immediately, a more compassionate voice emerged, reminding me I’m right at the beginning of my journey and of all the things I’ve done and achieved over the last few months.
As I wrote, I began to notice that my business wasn’t late, it was right on time. Without intending to, I had aligned it with the energy of the seasons—just as I do in other areas of my life. And although it may have taken longer than I originally hoped, launching during Beltane was the perfect metaphor for everything I stand for: seasonal, slow, cyclical living that aligns with our own nature and that of the Earth.
At Yule (winter solstice), without knowing it, I was planting the seeds of what was to come: testing Mourning Pages on myself and making the necessary adjustments to finalise the first version of it.
At Imbolc (midway point between winter solstice and spring equinox), when the seeds first begin to stir, things began to take root with the Mourning Pages test group. Despite going through a personal loss at the time, the group made me begin to realise the potential of this work. Holding space for them was a heart-opening experience, and despite some inner resistance, I began to feel this work could be a way to give meaning to my mother’s tragically preventable death.
Around Ostara (spring equinox), the seedling burst through the soil, and the concept of Grief and the Body was born. Despite my resistance, I committed myself to this work.
Now, at Beltane (midway point between the spring equinox and summer solstice), flowers are blossoming and trees are beginning to bear fruit. Beltane marks the tipping point into bloom—when blossoms become fruit, and desire becomes creation. Just like the flowers, Grief and the Body is bursting forth into the world.
As a fixed Earth sign, Taurus season reminds us that slow and steady may not win the race—but it allows us to build solid foundations. In this quick-fix world, it’s easy to feel behind, but Taurus reminds me that some things need time to take root before bearing fruit.
Regardless of the outcome of this particular launch, I’ve laid the foundations for my future business plans in a way that feels aligned with who I am and what I value. I’ve drowned out the noise of hustle culture and stayed true to my vision of building something meaningful from a place of integrity.
One of the biggest lessons my grief taught me is that you can’t force timelines to move faster just because you want them to. If you’re feeling stuck or behind, I invite you to reflect back on the past few months and see what’s blooming in your life.
If you're ready to tend your grief with compassion, movement, and community, early bird enrollment for Grief and the Body is now open.
I'd love to hold space for your grief.