No Title Can Explain This
You'll just have to see for yourself
My walls are bare, revealing only the nails left behind from the packaged artwork.
Half-filled moving boxes and packing paper is scattered across my floor. Kitchen is in disarray. But at least I have a dancing flame illuminating the back of my laptop from a lavender candle that traveled carefully in my mother’s suitcase from Antigua, Guatemala.
This apartment was my first home to feel like a home after leaving the family home. Perhaps because the building was purchased and renovated by my family. Perhaps because my mother and father carefully restored and breathed life back into it after the building had been abandoned for years.
Three years ago, the universe welcomed me back here to this same sacred space after my marriage had fallen apart and tried to heal out-of-state away from family — away from home.
What I needed was a refuge. A community. A place to mend the wounds. A temple to worship and reconnect with The Creator.
I wasn’t even sure if I was going to stay living in the United States. A part of me yearned to move to Guatemala, back to the country that gave me life. I almost did. I almost chose a path of tranquil beach living, or retreating to a pueblo by Lake Atitlan. I almost walked away from the jewelry business thinking my ambition was the problem.
It all makes sense now — why I stayed. The meaning behind the situations that didn’t work out.
It all led to this moment.
This decision to move out-of-state.
The outer growth reflecting the healing within.
The identity emerging from the depths within myself, suppressed for years from fears and conditioning.
The woman I’m becoming shedding the adolescent skin I wore too long for reasons I am only beginning to understand.
The light I saw in others — it’s so easy to recognize. That spirit and purpose of their existence. Unmistakeable. Yet, I’ve denied myself that same privilege. I had not fully honored the light within myself, until recently.
And if I did, perhaps it was for only a moment, before the doubt creeped in.
This thought… no. It cannot be worth sharing.
This insight… no. It must not be worth voicing.
This idea… no. It must not be worth considering.
This Substack is a perfect example. And perhaps explains why I had a challenging time staying consistent with my 2-article per month commitment. Because I was approaching it as a school project to submit, to be graded by someone more qualified than me. By someone far superior in intelligence to me. And with no peer to proof-read, and the fatigue of consulting AI to validate my writing. I briefly lost my motivation.
And then it clicked earlier today walking at Audubon Park, my reliable sanctuary. The fear and anxiety around writing here, in this special place occurred because I stopped writing for me. I felt pressured to have to teach something, to offer some kind of take-away, or value. And while yes, those objectives can be important, the gift each of us possess is presence. The simplicity of showing up.
Your presence is more than enough.
Your unfiltered thoughts.
Your raw expression of truth.
My commitment to myself for this article is ZERO AI. No consulting. No ideas. No framework. This is purely 100% me. It’s flowing out of me effortlessly. And it feels so good.
In this space of recalibration back to myself, and in the celebration of rediscovering parts of myself, I realized I may have tried too hard and “over-branded” this space.
Allow me to explain.
This Substack was intended as a space for me to write about whatever I wanted. Yet, in the pursuit of professional advice on how to connect the dots between here and my jewelry website I was misguided out of alignment. I felt pressured to write to position myself as an expert — in marketing, e-commerce, Shopify apps, entrepreneurship, and all the things I could teach on.
I don’t want to write about those things. I simply wish to express myself from the most powerful place any human can speak from — the heart.
And now with the launch of my podcast on June 29th, I realized it was time to make some changes around here.
I’ll be updating the name of this Substack to “It’s Cristy Cali” because while you are most absolutely beloved, always, I want it to be clear to you and myself that this publication is 100% in my voice. And it’s not a project to be graded by someone or something else.
The feeling I wish to evoke when you see “it’s Cristy Cali” is quite exactly as it sounds, like a sweet surprise, “Oh! It’s Cristy Cali” I wonder what she may have to say today.”
Substack also has some cool new upgraded features for podcasts and videos I’m interested in trying out to share my podcast episodes here as well, so they are conveniently delivered to your inbox, in addition to Spotify and YouTube.
Remember The Strawberry Full Moon
Around the first week of May, my media manager asked me when I wanted to launch my podcast. Years ago, whenever I wanted to launch anything very important, I would schedule it on the same day as a full moon. Yes, it was a little woo-woo strategy I picked up in my hippie days, and on occasion I still do. There is something to be said about the amplified energy leading up to a full moon.
Really, there’s something special in the air on these particular days, and you know what else?
I, too, was born on a full moon.
When I asked Claude AI to elaborate on the significance of the Strawberry Full Moon coming up on June 29th, this is what it shared with me:
The strawberry full moon — which happens in June — symbolizes abundance, ripeness, and harvest, even though it’s early in the season. The name comes from the ripening of wild strawberries in North America during that time, so there’s this idea of things coming into their peak sweetness and fullness.
In spiritual and metaphysical contexts, it’s associated with fertility, gratification, and the energy of things being ready. It’s a moment to acknowledge what’s already grown in your life and to celebrate the fullness of that before you move into the next phase. There’s also an element of generosity — abundance that’s meant to be shared or received.
This gave me chills.
“… the energy of things being ready.”
That is exactly the theme of the energy I have been feeling since New Years, and only grew stronger and stronger, especially after a recent heartbreak.
Word for word, this last breakup broke me open. I could energetically feel as if I had been inside of an egg, pressured, and in pain, breaking up the shell around me. A surprising sense of relief washed over me — a clear signal this was the right decision.
Needless to say, when I read the significance of the Strawberry Full Moon, it felt right to drop the first episode that day.
What To Expect
Episode 1 drops June 29th. Watch the full video on YouTube or listen on Spotify. And who knows, you might get it delivered to your inbox if I can figure out Substack’s Podcast feature.
New episodes to drop every other week.
Raw & real vulnerability in the name of greater human connection, love and compassion for one another. My greatest hope is for you to feel seen & heard in my stories.
Teaser content to drop on the podcast’s official Instagram here. Send me a DM to share your thoughts, comments and topic suggestions.
Closing Thoughts
One of the first things that popped up on my Instagram feed today was a reel from a local New Orleans news station that two iconic Magazine Street businesses are closing — Feet First, a beloved shoe store, and Coquette, a fine dining restaurant.
For those who are not aware, I opened my first (and only) brick and mortar shop on Magazine Street in the Fall of 2019, only a few months before the COVID pandemic.
Since then, several dozen well-established businesses have permanently closed their doors in New Orleans, especially Magazine Street.
People ask me all the time if I’ll ever open another retail-facing store front. The short, quick and intuitive answer is no.
I share this because I’m preparing to move my personal residence out of state in 3 days and I feel incredibly grateful to have created a business and a career that allows me the freedom to live wherever my heart desires. That was the point of starting my business, and one that I created with the lessons of growing up seeing my family’s feet anchored to their French Quarter brick-and-mortar stores. I knew exactly what I wanted, and what I didn’t want.
My beautiful private showroom may be inconveniently located, in an eye-sore industrial area a mile down from the New Orleans airport. It may be unconventional. It may even be misunderstood. And it is most definitely underestimated.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It is a well-kept secret that protects the peace of my team, allowing them to focus the vast majority of their time serving thousands online. And it is because of that freedom that we are able to be fully present for the few who make the trip to find us and provide the most attentive experience you’d rarely get on Magazine Street.
That’s all for now.
The dancing flame is growing weaker as the melting wax drowns the wick.
The room is growing colder as the night cools outside these thin 70-year-old walls.
Thank you for visiting this space, for meeting me here.
And for your patience as I remembered why this space exists.
I’ll meet you here again, soon.
Until then, darling, may you remember to honor the light burning and dancing within you.
Love,
Cristy
