Some of us don’t bloom early. Some of us don’t bloom loudly. Some of us bloom slowly, in our own time—maybe like the late-blooming phoenix archetype. Have you heard of it?
It describes someone who grows, transforms, or finds their path later in life—often after repeated periods of collapse, crisis, or reinvention. It’s the pattern of rising beautifully from the ashes, usually after everything has burned down first. People with this archetype often show remarkable resilience, creativity, and depth, yet they can delay steady, sustained growth, sometimes feeling stuck in cycles for years.
I’m one of these people. It just occurred to me that I’ve always seen myself as a perpetual late-blooming phoenix—the one who rises, falls, gathers herself, and rises again; the one who turns detours into new directions and heartbreak into something meaningful.
But I’ve realized there is a downside to the late-blooming archetype—when the phoenix story becomes a trap. When we start believing that every new chapter has to begin from ashes. Yet growth doesn’t need rebirth. It just needs integration and continuation.
For most of my life, I’ve tried to make peace living inside the myth of the left and right brain: the responsible professional, always trying to add value and fit into society, and the expressive visionary who creates art to make sense of it. One kept me safe. The other kept me alive. Or maybe it was the other way around.
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but somewhere along the way, I started believing I had to choose—or hide—one side or the other. In truth, the best version of me—the one I’ve been trying to “rebirth” for decades—emerges when both halves move forward together.
That’s what I’ve been working toward for some time: instead of burning down one side or the other, to allow myself to be whole. Artist and thinker. Dreamer and builder. A phoenix without the ashes.
If you’ve ever felt split between the self who pays the bills and the self who carries the soul, between the self the world sees and the self the world doesn’t know how to hold—or felt stuck in cycles for months or even years on end—you’re not alone.
And to prove it, this winter I’m creating a space for those of us who want to rise and find that happy place—not from ashes, but from truth, creativity, and steady, human expansion.
More soon. And with Christmas just around the corner, why not take a moment to explore my Fine Art Prints store—you might find that perfect gift for someone you love.