Revving Up

It's been a rough time; difficult, even with all of the positive self-talk, to stay on an even keel, and this has been true for a lot of us. Getting back to creating (August 2020) after a long hiatus helped immensely in loosening the bonds of confusion that had me strapped down tight, but before that, before that self-prodding into action, I was in a serious, near career-ending downward spiral. 

Over the past couple of years, some tough years, I spent a lot of time encouraging others to reach for their dreams as a means of shaking them out of the paralysis that these difficult times induced. I just wasn't doing it enough for myself, not for a very long time. So while I parsed out advice that generally translated into words that required action, I was actually doing nothing. I sat. I wallowed. I filled my head with nonsense as a means of diversion. I would pass through the studio on my way to the box freezer, feeling a mixture of guilt and anger as I watched a thin layer of dust settle over the perfumery, without even a twinge of joy at my good luck at having such beautiful things at my fingertips. 

I convinced myself a time or two that I was just getting too old for this. That new and more 'hungry' people were coming up and that I should just step aside and let them have at it. But every time I came close to tossing it in, I would get an idea, one that needed working on, one that would ultimately relight the flame and bring back all of the love, respect, and joy that I have for the art. There is still life in the old gal yet. 

I've accepted that this is normal. For me, for other artists, for everyone who struggles to put one foot in front of the other and find meaning and glory in life in the face of adversities, large and small. At some point, we just get tired. We lose focus. We let too much of the mundane stuff in until it takes over. Sometimes we just need a recharge.

I'm back, and I hope for good this time. In honor of this new, hopefully permanent, model of self, I've done something I swore once that I'd never, ever do again -- sell The Scented Djinn wares in shops. Okay, it's just one shop. A single shop about an hour away. Joining the ranks of the other vendors was not an easy choice. I loathe retail. I despise words like 'inventory' and 'restock', but mostly I just don't like making the same crap over and over again, and people don't like that. They like consistency while I thrive in chaos -- I guess. But this shop is different. Eclectic. They don't mind what I bring for them to sell, so long as I do. For me, because of the pandemic and the restrictions and quarantine and lack of socialization, this shop serves as a lifeline of sorts. It provides a vital link between me and the people who like what I do. It is a connection that has been missing since March 2020. 

Over the past fall, while the creative fire burned hot, I bought a few studio toys. Lab equipment that I previously never thought I'd have a need for but that have become vital in the creation process. A new ultrasonic, a lovely magnetic stirrer, a super-sensitive scale, dozens and dozens of beakers, and last, but certainly not least, a sweet little centrifuge. The home extraction lab is nearly complete, and this sets my blood on fire.