Stop signs + passing places
Taking the scenic route: a season of returning, recovery + recalibration
After a long stretch of deep work, I was itching to find a new rhythm. So we set off for the Isle of Mull — a chance to down tools and switch off for a few nights. But with delays and detours along the way, and a car that gave up within minutes of arriving, we found ourselves at something of a standstill.
Pivoting is familiar territory for me, so once the car was towed away and we were finally transported by taxi to our wee island pod, I could just about settle. The situation was, after all, more or less out of my hands.
Who needs a car anyway? The view from our window down to Loch na Keal was breathtaking, with its tall pines set against ombré skies and, behind us, the crescent moon rising over Ben More. My son — our lunar friend’s number one fan — was delighted. We were grounded by the beauty of it all and the picture-postcard setting felt like an invitation to reset.
The next morning, my daughter and I hired bikes to take in the landscape. We passed by rivers and peered into rockpools. Faces to the wind. Voices to the sky. Then we found a community bus to take us to colourful Tobermory thanks to a kind signwriter working near our pod. He also brought my shopping home one day and saved me an uphill ride. The sweetness of strangers, huh?
Soon after, norovirus hit. Really, universe? I usually hold steady in the face of challenges, but felt for my mum and the kids, and the tension was suddenly magnified — not least because we were all sharing one tiny cabin. A world away from glamping.
Weary from navigating illness and the tangle of insurance and recovery logistics, I had to pull to a stop and accept the messy moments for what they were, tucking them between the memories.
“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”
— John Muir
After the car was returned and everyone was a lot less poorly, we took a trip to find a hidden beach, a surprise gem lent to us by a local. “Just carry on by the loch,” she said, “you’ll get there, eventually.”
When we finally reached it, a sandy curve hugged by farmland and pebbles, it felt like a passing place, in every sense. A quiet spot to wait and watch the light fade and for Cora to pull off her wellies and walk toward the red-flecked reflection of the sky on the sea. With a shriek and a sigh, she was in.
I clambered over the rocks with the small one — Lowen is less selkie, more wildling — content among roots and rocks, turning over stones and speaking to them as though they might reveal their secrets. When I looked up again, Cora had transformed into a shoreline gatherer, her bucket filling with fragments.
She was most proud of her scallop shell, soft yet strong, almost out of place among the dainty collection of circles and spirals. We returned the ones that might make happy homes for tiny creatures before driving back beneath the crags to our own haven.
On the road, I couldn’t help but think that while we’d felt moored for much of the trip, it had also brought us glimmers — magic at gloaming (the Scots word for twilight) and stillness at dawnin (used poetically in Scots writing). The kind of soul-balm that only reveals itself when plans unravel and you surrender.
Returning to centre
I like to think I found my inner child on those lochside bike rides — beneath dipping sun and shifting moon, under the gaze of mountains and in the finding of treasure. The trip was laden with hurdles, but the Scottish Isles — in their wonder and in all weather — lifted me up again.
And so, after the journey home, I find myself in a reflective mood. Craving stillness, but the calm isn’t coming easily, because it takes time, sometimes a long time, for me to truly decompress after a period so full of activity. Perhaps it’s the same for you?
In some ways, the Brand Seasons® Method has given me language for what I’m experiencing: a container and permission slip for the fallow times. The cycles of Sowing, Blossoming and Harvesting have carried me, and I have all the tools I need to settle into a period of Grounding. But what might that look like?
On creative rest
Rest is taking the form of embracing movement and nature, but it’s important that I nourish my business too, and that is all about bringing my attention and energy back to service.
This is partly because client projects give me a soft place to land without forcing progress in my own business. There’s a deep desire to help others bring their creative visions to life and I’m free to do that when things feel simple in the studio. A short break from developing my own offerings will likely restore some much-needed harmony.
As part of this reset, I’m also shelving the Brand Seasons® Playbook until the autumn, because I can’t give it the care it deserves right now. After a full season of working on the Playdeck and Playgroup, it needs more thought. Time to mulch. And while part of me wonders if hitting pause is rubbish timing, there’s a deeper call to process rather than produce. Perhaps that’s the real work of this year.
Ways into recalibration
Have you had any recent signs to soften? It’s not always easy to let life move around us, pause or allow others to pass by. But it feels important to wait until the road ahead is clear before I move forward, and I’m choosing to tether myself with a few small but meaningful acts of care.
Supporting a personal writing project by focusing less on the outcome and more on the process, and joining a few friends for regular co-writing sessions.
Playing with colour and texture through my new Brand Kits (coming soon) and supporting the clients who jumped in to test this offering here on Substack.
Reviving my yoga practice with a gorgeous book, Move, Rest, Recover, gifted to me by author and teacher
to support this season of wellness.
Less pushing, more tending. After all, this kind of lull in the rhythm of a creative life is natural. If you’d like to join me this season, and listen to my upcoming private podcast about branding and building a business with ease, read on and sign up. I’d love to welcome you.
Settling in with the Brand Seasons® Clubhouse
As I step into this quieter season, I’m still holding space for others — and that space is the Brand Seasons® Clubhouse, a place for paid subscribers to gather, explore and honour the creative rhythms of building a brand. I opened our first Chat thread this month and you’re welcome to drop by and say hello.
Alongside the free diaries, features and podcast, Clubhouse members can enjoy:
Story Time: seasonal voicenotes with behind-the-scenes reflections and branding insights
Press Play: quarterly co-creating sessions with three spacious hours of gentle accountability
Brand Thread: A monthly AMA post where I answer your branding and business questions
Join the Brand Seasons® Clubhouse and receive a copy of my mini zine, This Creative Life, through your letterbox.
Looking ahead with the Brand Seasons® Playgroup
While strategy, styling and storytelling will always form part of my approach to branding, I believe the seasons we find ourselves in and how we move through them are just as important. This is why the Playgroup will alter in pace and bring more focus to the cycles of Sowing, Blossoming, Harvesting and Grounding before we enter the mirrored phases of Strategy, Style, Story and Substance.
Designed to help us craft a brand that feels like home and hold the nuance of building a business, this next iteration will live on a new platform called The Portal. The official start is September however doors will open this summer for those on the waitlist so you can familiarise yourself with your surroundings.
If you were part of the beta round, I’d love to welcome you back and offer you 50% off the early bird joining fee of £480 (which can be paid in instalments). If you’d like to take advantage of this, drop me an email, and we can get you booked!
Join the Brand Seasons® Playgroup waitlist and be the first to hear about it when doors open over the summer.
If you’re feeling the shift of seasons in your own life, or found yourself at standstill, I’d love to know how you’re responding to it. How can you take the scenic route?
I’m just coming out of the season for myself. I had sown a lot for the development of my coaching practice and workshop facilitation in the fall. I thought I’d let it rest through the winter and begin reaping this spring. But, life had other ideas. When my dad died unexpectedly in December, it was like everything was burned to the ground. No progress was made and just the essentials were done. Now, I finally see a glimmer of light and have started to take stock of what is left and where it feels right to go next. We will see what comes.
Sounds like a lovely trip. Your photos on Instagram were really lovely too.