Founder Letter: Being with Change
Dear Rosies,
I’m on the way to our factory in Los Angeles, coming from Denver and decided to take the opportunity to visit some of the most stunning lands in America, the outrageous beauty of Southern Utah. Yesterday, I walked along the stone washes that cradle the Escalante River, and then, for a long stretch, walked in the river itself, which is ankle to knee deep at this time of year. I wanted to see the canyon walls from the center, to receive the sculpted stone from a new perspective. It was AMAZING to see the handiwork of creation from this perspective.
Walking in a river is its own kind of meditation—a hyper-focused practice of presence. Sometimes, the riverbed is silky and lush on the feet, silted with fine sand. In those stretches, my steps are long and smooth. Metaphorically, this is how life feels in the pauses: steady, aligned, carried. The current of being moves with grace. Here I can look up and out, at the impossibly blue sky, the sinewy rocks, or smell the sagebrush, or even take pictures.
Then the terrain shifts: a narrowing or an elevation change occurs, rocks might accumulate, or a deeper pool collects. The water moves faster. Here I slow down to pay attention: a change is coming. I tune into the soles of my feet. Feel the stones beneath the surface. Find the next hold. Keep more weight on the back leg until the front finds sure ground. In transition stretches, one can only move one step at a time, guided by full body listening.
The changes call for a beautiful, precise attention- but not a grasping, clasping or anxiety. The breath stays loose. The inner experience remains wide open and spacious. The body is here, the mind is vast, the perception is clear. We move, deeply attuned to self, place, earth and current, with no need, or even the possibility, to disassociate or physically flee.
And then, just like that, the terrain shifts again. The bottom smooths, the silt returns. You lengthen your stride.
I notice that this is a metaphor for how healthy change feels.
I also notice that, in the years that I’ve been working with transformation and awakening, sometimes people resist change, and that there are predictable reasons why…even when what’s being invited it gorgeous beyond our wildest dreams.
One reason is that the mind craves familiarity. It equates “what I know” with safety, even if what it knows is painful. The ego structure wraps itself around identity patterns, old coping mechanisms, and habitual rhythms. To truly change is to risk the dissolving of who you've taken yourself to be, and to risk the old ways of relating to others. So, we can take soul-deep realizations and turn them into conceptual trophies instead of letting them soak into our being. This recoil into identity can also come from simple overwhelm. Our insight or intuition about change is real, yet the body isn’t ready to hold it. The weight of social expectation, past pain, and incomplete integration can cause us to collapse back into the known.
Often no one teaches us how to change with grace. Our educational systems, social structures, and economic models are built on control, conformity, and continuity. There is little room for authentic transformation—especially the kind that doesn’t yield measurable productivity. Real change feels awkward, quiet, sometimes even boring—but it is blessed. It asks for courage, patience, and above all, gentleness. It asks us to cultivate the gentle art of releasing what was and being born into the new.
Change doesn’t require tightness or fanfare. Just precise attention and love. May we all lean into the deep, soul-led transformations that invite us to into more of our essence, to become ever more free.
Love to you from the middle of the river, wishing you one perfect attuned step at a time.
With love,
Christine Marie Mason
Founder, Rosebud Woman
Host, The Rose Woman Podcast
@rosebudwoman
@christinemariemason
