Nothing Can Stop Spring
This month feels lighter, so my Soul Note is shorter.
Spring has sprung, the light has returned, the air has softened, and the ground, which felt still for months, has begun to open. Shoots appeared, buds formed, daffodils bloomed, and blossoms of cherry trees and magnolia followed.
Nothing forced it, and nothing rushed it, yet nothing could stop it.
Spring does not ask for permission; it moves because it must.
After a long period of holding, stillness, rebuilding, and finding my way through change, something in me is moving again. Not in a forced or urgent way, but in the same way the ice on a river begins to melt. At first slowly, almost unnoticed, and then the current underneath takes over. The river releases what it was holding. The structure that once felt solid can no longer stay intact.
It is movement returning.
“Nothing in the world is as soft and yielding as water. Yet for dissolving the hard and inflexible, nothing can surpass it.”
FERMARY has just turned one year old. I created it at a time when, if I am honest, I was very close to collapse. It was not built from ease, but from experience, from everything I had learned over decades, and from a clear sense of what I wanted to stand for at that point. I put meaning into it, care into it, and attention into every detail, and it became something special. It now stands on its own feet, strong and recognised, and I feel proud of what it has become.
At the same time, I can feel something else beginning to open.
Not instead of it, but beyond it.
My creative energy is no longer sitting in one place. It is expanding, moving towards something broader, something that connects people, systems, land, and community in a more meaningful way. It feels natural.
“The only constant in life is change.”
I have the sense that many of us are arriving at a similar point.
We have been taught to choose one path, one identity, one role, and to build stability around it. To stay consistent, to be reliable, to create security and hold onto it. For many people, this brings grounding and structure, and there is real value in that.
But there comes a moment when something no longer fits in the same way. Not because it is wrong, but because you have changed. And this is the part we are rarely prepared for.
Growth does not always look like building more of the same. Sometimes it asks for expansion. Sometimes it invites you to move beyond what once defined you, towards something that is not yet fully clear but already present.
Nature does not resist that moment; it responds to it.
We, on the other hand, often try to hold things together long after they have already begun to shift, and this is where tension begins.
There comes a point when holding on requires more energy than allowing yourself to move forward. Like the river, once the ice begins to melt, no force can return it to stillness. When the season changes, it changes, and no amount of control can stop what is ready to move.
That’s how it feels this spring: not rushing, not forcing direction, but paying attention to what is already beginning to open. There is a different kind of confidence in that, not based on control, but on recognising when something is ready and going with it.
“What you are meant to do will find its way.”
Perhaps this is what this moment offers.
A chance to notice where your energy is already moving, and to begin trusting it without needing to have all the answers.
Because when something is ready to grow, it will.
And like spring, once it begins, nothing will be able to stop it.
With love,
Elena
