Greetings from the construction site

How about taking a little nap right now?

Just lie down for a moment.
Close your eyes.
Do nothing for a moment .

No input.
No output.

For many people, 2025 was an intense year.
It was full of change, goodbyes, and inner shifts.

And now, as this year draws to a close, I feel:

Many of us really just want to lie down.
Rest.
Slow down.
Wait until something inside us has sorted itself out.

Just as nature has always done.

And yes—we are nature.
We just keep forgetting it.

I'm writing to you today because I'm letting go of something right now.

Or perhaps more precisely: because I stopped fighting against a transition.

Because I'm doing something right now that feels surprisingly revolutionary to me:

I live on a construction site.
Date of last update unknown.

In early December, I suddenly felt that my study needed a fresh coat of paint. I wanted to get rid of the old mint green. My heart was set on sky blue.

So I started painting. A few days before Christmas.

Of course, my old self had a plan right away: Everything was supposed to be finished by Christmas.

But then I ran out of strength. And Christmas was just around the corner.

In the past, I would have fought against it. Not this time.

I threw the deadline out the window.
And my perfectionism right after it.

My body visibly let out a sigh of relief.

This year has been intense.
When I recently realized everything I’ve built, changed, and carried, I suddenly had to laugh.
Because I was so amazed by it myself!

Shortly afterward, my body showed me something else: my iron stores were depleted.
No wonder, then, that fatigue and sluggishness suddenly set in.

And so something new began.

I stopped trying to constantly correct my body.

There are now salami sandwiches.
Leberkäs sandwiches.
Gummy bears on the couch.

My old self would probably have called that “unreasonable.”

The person I am today feels more like a small child whose needs are finally being taken seriously.

This child is working right now:
in bed,
on the couch,
while out for a walk,
surrounded by paint rollers, blankets, and open passageways.

And yet, ideas suddenly emerge.
Texts.
Spaces.
Connections.

Not in spite of the construction site.
Maybe even because of it.

So if there's one thing I've come to know well by now, it's periods of transition.

These strange spaces between the old and the new.
Between exhaustion and a new beginning.
Between chaos and inner clarity.

There's still a lot to do.
Step by step.

But deep down, I've long since arrived.

I cuddle with my unicorn, eat gummy bears, and paint the walls sky blue.

In the meantime, I continue to guide people through their own transitions—gently, mindfully, and at their own pace.

Maybe one of these will catch your eye.

Here you'll find my current rooms.

Until then: Best regards from the construction site

and a smooth transition into the new year.

With love and sky-blue walls,
Jeannette

P.S.: My inner child would love to show you everything that’s in the works right now.
But my body reminds me: Not everything has to happen at once.
Some things grow better at their own pace.