One Year Later
One year ago, I was planning my wedding. One year ago, Yael and I were about to embark to finalize our venue in Italy, and enjoy a brief break after the whirlwind of the month-long Tucson Gem Show.
We watched, with the world, as this new illness spread its ink-stain across the globe. As one by one nations shut down their borders, as millions closed their doors… to protect each other.
I still think about that, though the narrative for so many has changed. Isolation… the worst punishment conceived by human minds beyond torture and death, isolation, which is anathema to our species, was embraced by the billions to protect each other.
And in our solitude, millions of us discovered something we'd lost.
Without our jobs, who were we? Without physical connection, where did we belong? Without constant distractions, what world were we really living in? With lives and livelihoods in the balance, how were the scales of our society really tipped?
Isolated, many of us turned inward, and realized we weren't actually aligned. We hadn't actually been happy. We were missing moments, we were missing loves, we were missing lifetimes. For what? What really mattered now?
For those of you who have traveled, virtually, with us through Sage's journey this past year, you know a bit. Yael and I, brokenheartedly, cancelled our wedding. We sent our employees home with pay and promised to bring them back once restrictions lifted. We sheltered in, and stuck together, for three solid months doing the work of five people, trying to keep our energetic crystal business afloat. But our Live Sales shifted. It became a refuge, a place of community and shared emotion. A place of guidance, peace, and support. It became clear that this was the beginning of something, but to allow it room to grow, we needed space. Physical space, energetic space, emotional space, and none of that was available where we were in Los Angeles.
So we made the decision to leave. In divine alignment, within two months we sold our home, and moved out of state to Portland, along with the majority of our small staff and 10,000lbs of crystals in tow. And we grew.
Now, one year since we all closed our doors to protect each other, looking back, I am grateful. I am exhausted. I am devastated. I am overwhelmingly worried. I am hopeful. My brain feels like mush, but my inner voice is stronger. We are all grieving, in different ways: for those beloved faces we'll never see again, for the loss of innocence that privilege once provided, for the opportunities, hard-won achievements, and dreams eked out of sweat and tears dashed away in a moment, and even grief for the loss of who we thought we were.
Though I haven't had time to learn to make bread, or do yoga, or even, much to my sorrow, begin singing again, this past year has taught me what I'm sure it's also taught all of you: my strengths, my weaknesses, my limits. Although it's been a marathon year, as the weeks and months slipped by, what was most important became crystal clear: love, health, joy, and hope.
In those four are everything we need: compassion for ourselves, empathy for each other, equity for our society.
This week marks one year since the world shut down, simultaneously isolating and uniting all 7.6 billion of us in a way never before possible. It's no surprise as we enter the New Moon in Pisces today, that this momentous anniversary asks us to reflect and dive deep. How have we changed? What do we want—truly want—to create? Who do we want to be?
I invite you to give yourself some time and space today to look back, grieve, and then look forward. What seeds do you wish to plant? What flowers are you ready to let blossom?
Spring is coming soon.
Thank you all, from the bottom of our hearts, for allowing us to serve and support you through this year of endings and beginnings. We wouldn't be here without you, and I can't wait to see what we all will create, together.
With love,
Jillian