Another Phoenix Design.
My business has always been about stories. Each piece of jewellery we create carries a narrative, sometimes joyful, sometimes sorrowful, often a blend of both. The people who visit our shop, those who reach out online, my team, our collaborating artists – we all have stories to tell.
As I approach 20 years since crafting my first ring and 10 years since opening my doors, I feel compelled to share some of these stories with you. Today, I want to begin with one that's deeply personal, penned from a rare moment of solitude.
Jewellery is my usual medium of expression, so words feel a bit clumsy and awkward. Sharing these first attempts at writing makes me nervous, but as a quote I love reminds me (though I can't recall the origin), "Feel the fear and do it anyway."
The recent Cudlee Creek fire ignited a maelstrom of emotions within me. The extreme anxiety leading up to "catastrophic" fire days, the frustration as people fail to grasp the reality of living in a high-risk area – these are all too familiar. There's the gut-wrenching wait, the constant checking of the CFS page as the affected area expands, the heart-stopping worry for loved ones on the "inside." The desperate bargaining with a higher power to keep everyone safe – material possessions pale in comparison.
Only once the dust settles and everyone is accounted for can you begin to process what might have been lost. The irony struck me – potentially losing my shop ten years to the day after purchasing it. The "temporary" signs I finally replaced just months earlier, now potentially replaced by ashes. A wave of guilt washed over me, pondering what would become of my business. Rebuild? Move on?
The aftermath brought a surge of temporary anger, fuelled by adrenaline. Everything and everyone seemed to irritate me. Social media was a minefield – political debates, climate change arguments, finger-pointing – all felt insensitive while the fire raged. Even pre-Christmas promotions from other businesses felt like a slap in the face.
Christmas itself, a time for family joy, became a muted affair. Quarantined the previous year due to a sick toddler, we found ourselves "alone" again – just the three of us trying to create a festive atmosphere, all the while burdened by the anxieties of the situation. We managed moments of happiness – the first bike ride, special meals, happy photos. But lurking beneath the surface was the awareness of the displaced and the brave firefighters sacrificing Christmas for the community.
The worst, perhaps, was witnessing the normalcy on social media. Their lives seemingly unaffected, while ours had been turned upside down. Taking a break from the constant barrage became essential – deleting the app, allowing space to breathe.
Days turned into weeks, and a semblance of normalcy returned. Being back at the shop, reconnecting with the community, proved therapeutic. Everyone had a story, a need to share, a need to listen. In those conversations, a sense of healing began. Some people bravely faced their emotions, while others downplayed their experiences. Both approaches were valid.
While my home and belongings remained untouched, "not okay" moments were unavoidable. Lost family time, missed holiday sales, sleepless nights – the fire took a toll. But rather than resist these feelings, I'm working towards acceptance. Sharing my story allows others to know that whatever they're feeling – fear, anger, sadness – is valid. It's okay to not be okay.
Open communication is vital. By sharing my experience, maybe I can help someone else going through a similar struggle. There will be good days and bad days, and that's okay.
Being part of this community, creating jewellery for a living, these are the things I value. Jewellery can be a tribute, a whimsical creation, a personal expression – sometimes all three. This phoenix design is my fourth iteration. Created during the aftermath of the fire, it brought me a sense of peace and strength. It represents the resilience of the individual and the community. Each one is hand-pierced and unique, imbued with positive energy. It can be crafted in silver or gold, defying gender stereotypes. I envision it worn or simply held as a talisman, each owner attaching their own story to this symbol of hope, strength, and renewal.
Thank you for reading my story and thank you to those who trust me with their own stories.
SC (March 2020)
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