A Sacred Pause
Motherhood arrived as an initiation—one that cracked open every part of who I thought I was and ushered in a profound shift in identity. In those early days with Lucia, visions came to me with startling clarity: the life I wanted to build, the legacy I longed to create, the way herbalism and holistic healing called to me in a way nothing else ever had.
Lucy on Earth took shape in the dark—literally. Through a lot of whispered voice memos during 3 a.m. feedings, ideas rushed through me that I didn’t want to lose. Daydreams of a healing practice carried me through a heavy bout of postpartum anxiety that winter.
I had just graduated from an apprenticeship as a bioregional herbalist and felt a pressure to move now, to capture the momentum before it slipped away. A fear pulsed beneath everything: that motherhood would swallow me whole, leaving no room for self, for creativity, or for the parts of me that longed to create beauty.
I had watched so many women I love give themselves away in the holy work of caregiving, becoming martyrs in the process. I was determined to do things differently—to become a mother Lucia could look up to, to act on my dreams and create a world she might one day inherit and make her own.
So I pushed. And—if we’re being honest—it’s not exactly the most grounded idea to start a business in the same season you’re learning how to keep a tiny human alive. Loved ones would say, “I don’t know how you do it all,” and the truth is: I wasn’t. It took a giant dose of humility to admit that my capacity wasn’t infinite.
It helps me to think of life like a pie, each slice representing my bandwidth. The more slices I cut (a.k.a. the more things I take on), the smaller they become. And when everything receives only a sliver of my energy, nothing gets the fullness it deserves. Not my dreams. Not my work. Not my family. And certainly not myself.
In my resistance to repeating the patterns of sacrifice I witnessed in generations before me, I swung hard in the other direction—I poured what little energy I had left postpartum into a dream that was barely formed. I was terrified that if I didn’t push, I would lose myself. Ironically, in the pushing, I began to drift from myself anyway.
The truth is: I’ve been burnt out for longer than I’ve been willing to admit. I’ve put pressure on myself—and by extension, my family—in a feverish attempt to keep something alive that needed a different kind of tending.
And somewhere along the way, I realized: I never dreamed of being a product maker.
I don’t love the stress of markets or the days it takes to recover after. I don’t love the accumulation of “stuff” required to produce products, or the constant churn that product-based business demands. That’s not why I was called to herbalism. That’s not where my deepest joy lives.
But what I do love—and what I’m coming back home to—is making medicine in a way that feels sustainable, devotional, and true to the heart of this work. Small-batch, intentional, and woven into a larger ecosystem of reciprocity. Not production for the sake of production, but offerings that emerge from seasonality, relationship, and care.
This moment isn’t about stepping away from creating; it’s about returning to a way of creating that honors my capacity, my family, and the deeper purpose of Lucy on Earth.
So I am taking a Sacred Pause.
As I step into my second year of motherhood, as I tend to my own vessel with intention and compassion, I am receiving clearer glimpses of what Lucy on Earth wants to become. The visions feel like tender shoots—vulnerable, sacred, not yet ready to be exposed to the elements.
This pause is my way of honoring them.
I believe deeply in the power of the pivot—that holy moment when we realize something is no longer working and choose to shift with grace instead of gripping harder. When we release what drains us, we make space for what is divinely inspired.
So for the next couple of months, I will be going quiet.
Listening. Resting. Recalibrating. Preparing the soil so that strong roots can take hold.
Lucy on Earth is not going away.
But she is becoming something truer. Something more aligned. Something that feels like the work of my actual soul.
Thank you for being here in the becoming.
More soon.
With gratitude,
Brianna