Six Years Later: There Is No Going Back

Six Years Later:
There Is No Going Back

Six years ago we were told two weeks to flatten the curve. And here we are.

What followed has been a kind of wild ride that doesn't seem to slow — in fact, the more you dismantle the illusion, the stranger it gets. Truth has a momentum of its own.

There are still people clinging to the life they had before, hoping they can keep it all status quo — a little like the high school cheerleader who shows up to the reunion wearing the exact same haircut, eye shadow, and lip color from 1987. Those were her best days. She wants those days back. But there is no going back. And forward still feels awkward and uncertain for so many. Yet here we are anyway, moving through it.

As more disclosure continues to surface, we're learning the deeper story of COVID — the masterminds, the coordination, the spike protein manufactured in a lab, and just how interconnected all of it truly was. Not that some of us didn't already sense it. But the depth of the manipulation — of society as a whole — is still revealing itself layer by layer.

So what do we do with that?

We disconnect from these systems as much as possible. We get deliberate and look deeper into who owns what and what their practices actually are. When I learned there was only one manufacturer supplying nail polish to the entire beauty industry, that world sort of collapsed for me. We get honest with ourselves about what really matters — do I want to support industries that see me as food and fodder? It really does come back to something that simple.

When I was in my twenties, I was obsessed with fashion. I subscribed to 26 magazines a month. This was the eighties — there were these enormous books, well, magazines called books, that came out of Paris twice a year documenting the spring and fall shows. I would spend days studying my favorite designers, names I could never afford on a manicurist's salary. So I spent my nights drafting designs, cutting, stitching — making my own versions. There was such beauty in it — couture as walking art. I appreciated even what I couldn't touch.

When I recently took a quick glance at the current shows, I didn't recognize any of it. Fashion and beauty were nowhere to be found. So many designers once created extraordinary beauty. Now? A few words come to mind. Ugly. Dark. Repulsive. It's become clear that fashion was taken over some time ago by something with a much darker agenda. And the beauty industry? It wants to inject, slice, dice, poke, prod, medicate, and sedate a woman — and call it beauty.

Which brings everything full circle, back to where it always belonged: Mother Nature. Back to the garden.

And she is arriving right on time. Spring is slowly making its way in — the jasmine is blowing up, filling the air with something almost unbearably good. Swoon. The still has been polished — something I don't actually do very often. I prefer it worn and used looking. There's something ancient and alchemical in that. A still that carries its history on its surface feels more honest somehow, more alive. But every now and then it earns a shine.

This is always the season to come back to the plants. The calendula is poking through wherever it seeded itself, the clary sage has multiplied over the winter, and the bee balm is teasing me. And whether you took the shots or didn't, whether you're still navigating the aftermath of spike or simply want to fortify your body against what continues to circulate — the plants are here, and they have answers.

Our Piñon Pine & Tobacco tincture is one of the most powerful tools in the apothecary for spike support. Piñon pine is rich in suramin and shikimic acid — compounds long understood by traditional healers as protective and clearing. Tobacco, in its sacred and medicinal form, works at a cellular level as a deep purifier. Together they make a formidable ally for anyone looking to clear, protect, and restore.

For the body's deeper architecture — the endocrine system, the hormonal rhythms, the quiet intelligence of the glands — Feminalty is your tincture. So much of what has been disrupted these past six years lives in the glandular body. Stress, toxins, artificial inputs of every kind — all of it lands there. Feminalty is formulated to nourish and restore that system gently, sustainably, in the way only plants can.

And for navigating the sheer noise of this moment — the revelations, the grief, the anger, the uncertainty — our Peace of Mind tincture is exactly what it sounds like. Calm in the storm. Clarity when the headlines feel like too much. A steady hand from the plant world when the human world has lost its footing.

This is also — always, anytime, and especially now — a beautiful moment to pour some serious love into your physical body. We have been through something. All of us. And the body keeps the score, as they say. That winter layer — the dullness, the dryness, the heaviness — it's time to slough it off. Exfoliate from head to toe and let fresh skin breathe again. Then drench yourself. The hydrosols are always perfect for that deep wet hydration — layer them in with your favorite face and body oil. The Rosegold Collection is a perfect refresh for spring. Soothe every inch, work from the crown of your head down to the soles of your feet with full intention. Treat your body like the sacred vessel it is — because it is, and now more than ever, caring for yourself beautifully is an act of resistance.

Natural remedies for what ails you. Organic botanical blends for healthy, glowing, luminous skin — whatever your skin's particular story.

It's that time of year for cotton and linen, natural fibers blowing in the breeze — simple dresses with beauty in their very simplicity. This is what I love now. This is what makes sense now.

The old world had its pleasures. But the new one we're building — rooted in the earth — the deeper I go into the mother, the deeper my faith that we will see the other side fully intact, rooted in what matters most: Mother Nature, Father Cosmos, through your heart. In real ingredients, in sovereignty over our own bodies and our own attention — that one is worth something.

The plants are waiting. Spring is here. Come home to your self