When was the last time you walked through a new door? Was it New Year’s Day? Was it the day your child was born? Was it the day you were married—or divorced? Perhaps the day you quit your job? What did it feel like? A breath of fresh air? A lightened load and spring in your step? A wider, expanded sky above you?
I’m feeling all of that and more. Today I’m happily announcing a new beginning. Because today I am recommitting myself to the artist within me, my craft, my jewelry. Today is a sigh of relief, a beam of sunlight through my office window—the smile on my daughter’s face.
For some time now, I have struggled with the direction of Relica jewelry. I spent too long trying to follow a business model that felt like the most practical approach and the industry standard for growth. But it crushed my artistry, encroached on my life, and drained my soul. I should know better than to attempt anything that is “standard” or conventional. It’s simply not who I am.
After three long years of forcing Relica to be what it’s not, I am taking back my joy, my authenticity and my creativity. I’ve learned that if I focus on what I love and approach my art and work from a place of inspiration and authenticity, it will become what it’s meant to be. As Elizabeth Gilbert so eloquently put it,
“… the older I get, the less impressed I become with originality. These days, I’m far more moved by authenticity. Attempts at originality can often feel forced and precious, but authenticity has quiet resonance that never fails to stir me.”
In the coming months you will see compelling new work and collections that I have been working on and I am looking forward to an exciting reveal. Until that time, I raise my glass to Shiva, the Hindu God of Destruction and New Beginnings—(s)he symbolizes the essential process of allowing things to come to their natural conclusion in order for new life to blossom.
]]>Travel isn't easy. And sometimes it's not even fun. But tell me where you've been and I'll see who you are.
We venture forth from our bubbles full of anticipation, expectations and a bit of trepidation—there’s the best case scenario and the worst case. My experience is that most travel lies somewhere in the middle. When we traveled with young kids, vacation was simply relocation…with a better view. Now we’re traveling with a young teen where each new experience can be an exercise in emotional jujitsu, and this time I was seeing things through two lenses—mine and hers.
My daughter has traveled since she was 6 months old and loves it. But this was her first European trip to a country where English is not the primary language (except that it sort of is). At first, she was overwhelmed by the feelings of isolation when you don’t speak the language and the unsettling feeling of being a strange person in a strange land. I assured her that if she could confidently walk into Middle School every day, that she had this. And so she did—by the time we left she made new friends from Bristol, the Netherlands and Spain (and these days they can stay in touch!).
Still, there were moments when she fiercely missed home, her friends and got tired of the “oldness”—and because I’m her mother, I felt it too. Portugal had become “Torturegal”. Nice. (Where does she get this stuff, anyway?!).
I explained we are not guaranteed a fabulous time, all of the time—kind of like at home. Many valuable experiences are not. Life will pull us in directions we don’t want to go, but need to go. In the end, we discover new things about ourselves and humanity along with a new found gratitude for the quest and our lives back home. Context in life is essential. Travel provides that - along with an ideal opportunity to explore, risk, learn, compare and grow. “By the time we leave,” I assured her, “you will be changed. Forever. You will be more confident, more informed and you'll return with greater peace of mind.”
The greatest reward of travel is the serendipity and "first times" - lasting memories that become part of our story. They will be relics in your mind that we carry with us always. Much like these …
~ climbing to the mountain top bar in Mexico to see "El Puerco Borracho”
~ hot air ballooning followed by brunch under the baobab trees of the Serengeti
~ dining with the old lady at the lighthouse in Castine, Maine
~ skiing the glaciers of Whistler, Canada
~ watching an elephant reach over the wall to drink out of the pool...while you're in it
~ climbing apple trees in Ireland
~ getting on the wrong train to paradise in Italy
~ water skiing beneath the volcanoes in Guatemala
~ searching the beaches of Brittany for shiny black rocks you saw in a travel magazine
All treasured relics gathered in my mind.
"The real voyage in discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes--but in having new eyes." ~ Marcel Proust
At Relica we love a good story and the meaning behind what people value--so we enjoy occasionally sharing these interesting anomalies (and commonalities) that make us all human. This Thanksgiving, pass on Uncle Morty in the lampshade and indulge in the hygge!
In college I majored in International Relations. By far, my favorite class was Cultural Anthropology, where we immersed ourselves in and studied cultural traditions and idiosyncrasies from around the world. The tradition and value that stayed with me the most was a Danish tradition called Hygge (pronounced "hooga" -- imagine how the Swedish Chef on the Muppets would say it). Below is an excerpt I borrowed from thedanishway.com that I feel most accurately captures the essence of hygge.
How many times have you been at a family gathering and some kind of drama erupts? There is a big discussion, some negative words, some accusations or judgments and you leave feeling pretty upset about family gatherings? What if there was a way to change all of that? What if there was a way to guarantee a drama free family gathering. Could it be possible?
So many people who have read The Danish Way of Parenting say they particularly enjoy the chapter about “hygge” pronounced “hooga”. Hygge is a very difficult concept to explain to non Danes. Some say it means cozy, homey, snug or comfortable. But this doesn’t really cover the many facets of hygge and why it is so important.
Hygge is a verb as well as an adjective. It is a feeling as well as a state of mind and it even has moral implications. Children in Denmark grow up learning how to hygge because it is seen as so essential to a good life. Right now there is a college class in the UK that is teaching “hygge” because it is such a powerful factor for happiness in Denmark. And it is. But it isn’t only because of the candles, the nice food and the cozy atmosphere. Hygge is about something much deeper. It is about the power of presence and really connecting to others in a drama free way. It is focusing on what is really important-being together.
Feeling connected to others gives meaning and purpose to all of our lives and is proven to increase oxytocin levels and make people feel happier. There is a mountain of research to support this. Feeling truly connected, even for small periods of time, can increase feelings of wellbeing.
At hygge sig (to cozy around together) is like going into a safe place where it is understood that the power of presence is paramount. Because Danes are raised with hygge they know what the rules are without having to talk about them. And they all work together as a team to make hygge happen.
So what are some of the unspoken rules that make hygge work so well? It might help to visualize a door that opens into a moment. That moment is the hygge time. When you step into this moment you and everyone else must take off your daily masks and leave the drama at the door. Hygge is a safe place where no one tries or wants to be better than anyone else. That would not be hygge legit. It’s a place to just be together with nothing to prove. The cozier this space is the better. The important thing is that everyone feels comfortable. That is why atmosphere is so important. But atmosphere is only one aspect. Here are four little known rules that can make hygge work for your family.
At this inauspicious moment in history, we wish you all many moments of hygge for the Holiday Season and the New Year to come. Cheers!
]]>The Japanese have many words for interesting concepts--one of my favorites is Wabi Sabi. It is an appreciation for the imperfect, the subtle, the humble. And it is seeing the profound beauty that time bestows on all earthly things; a reverence for the cycle of life.
In her book about this very concept, Robyn Griggs Lawrence outlines the meaning of both words; wabi is harmony, peace, balance and tranquility--sabi refers to "the bloom of time" or the dignity and grace that accompany the natural progression of aging.
I have long been fascinated by this subject of imperfection--both in design and in humanity. Think about it; isn't it really our idiosyncrasies, flaws and vulnerabilities that attracts us to one another? It's what makes us unique, interesting and relatable. But perfectionism is not only unattainable, it's uninteresting, inauthentic and humans can't connect with it--it doesn't exist and does not make us feel good. As Brene Brown says, "when perfection is driving, shame is riding gunshot." Imperfection is the only thing that allows humans to learn, to grow, to create. And it draws us closer to one another. Case in point: as I walked around the lake near our home this weekend man rode past me on a beach cruiser wearing docksiders and khakis. And a pith helmet. He was happy and he was owning it. It was brilliant, it was a moment and it made me smile big--I won't forget him.
Historically, many cultures and art forms have embraced the art of imperfection. In Veronique Vienne's book the joys of imperfection, she cites many examples of this:
I my artistry, I do love to add a touch of the unexpected--a bit of visual serendipity that will draw the eye in. With a renewed sense of value that imperfection brings--I go forth inspired to find new ways of embracing imperfection. Afterall, what makes a perfect moment is its unexpected and imperfect timing.
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We were traveling with a group of 50 of our newest, “nearest and dearest” best friends—about 7 families from all over the US. The lot of us walked the village by the sea, played in the beautiful public playground and visited a pottery studio where we worked on the potting wheel and engaged in free form creativity with clay. It was joyful seeing adults immersed in this form of exploration for a change--several aiming for perfection, others giddy about what they had created.
After a beautiful “farm to table” lunch (although in Ireland it’s just called lunch) several of the kiddos, Lucy included, ran off to climb and play in the trees (as children do sans device).
EXHIBIT A:
Fortunate enough to capture this moment of my daughter’s freefall into fun, I walked over to a nearby old stone wall to sit and drink in the moment--to seal it in my soul forever. As I breathed in the panoramic countryside, I looked down and saw this:
EXHIBIT B:
This coin, simply laying right next to me on the stone wall, captured my eye immediately. Weathered, beaten up and oxidized beyond immediate recognition—it appeared as it had fallen out of someone’s pocket centuries before, and had since remained in that very spot. I couldn’t believe someone hadn't discovered it. I picked it up, looked it over and considered it a lucky talisman for a lucky girl on a glorious day of good fortune. Queue the little dancing elves...I was certain they would magically appear. And then I placed it in my pocket and I carried it with me for the rest of the trip.
I’ve traveled to many places, but this adventure with my daughter was one of the best I’ve been on; so many moments captured in my mind and my heart. The trip did not, coincidentally, begin on a favorable note. My husband, Lucy’s dad, was supposed to be with us on this trip but he had been sick the previous week and relapsed with severe intestinal pain at the terminal while we were boarding the plane. He decided it was best not to board. As we walked onto the jet way, my face mixed with emotion and confusion about what to say or do, I looked over at my daughter who then said this: “plot shift, move on!” And so we did.
We missed having her dad with us, but it was a reminder that life throws you curve balls, and yet delight can still find its way in. Serendipity presents itself in all forms—and with good reason. I believe that most of the magic lies in not knowing when and how things will happen. You embrace courage and curiosity – and the joy of unexpectedly finding a lucky 1863 British Half Penny is yours!
This treasure will always remind me to embrace serendipity and face set backs with courage--and that joy will eventually prevail.
EXHIBIT C:
We'd love to hear your stories about finding a special and unexpected treasure or talisman along your travels in life--and the meaning it has brought to your life!
]]>This meaningful little opus from profound story teller Ira Glass sits atop my desk in plain view—so that I never forget. Never forget everything worth having in life...
]]>It has been several long years since I began exploring the idea of building a successful business that incorporated my creative skill. Today, that quest continues—I still need to get clear on what my final definition of success will be. But I have arrived at a place where I feel things have aligned and become congruent with each other—vision, aesthetic, process, knowledge, skill. I feel pride about the results of my work, and the gratification that comes from creating something out of nothing. The importance accomplishment plays in one’s sense of self worth is perhaps what sticks with me the most—and it is what fuels perseverance.
Today, I am ready to fully reveal what it is I do and to send it out into the world confident that, to this point, I have done my best. I have given it my all. And how the world chooses to respond is not in my control. I hope you find Relica compelling, meaningful and that it somehow sparks something within you to pursue that “one thing” which you love and thirst for in your own life.
Namaste.
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