The shop at the end of the laneway

The other day, my 15-year-old son looked at me and said something that caught me off guard.
Mum, you’ve been pushing your business for over a year now… and where has it really gotten you?

It wasn’t said with malice, just brutal teenage honesty, and I had to admit—he had a point.

I’ve poured so much of myself into this business. Every offering, every product, every blog post and caption has come from a place of sincerity and soul. This has never been about just making a sale. It’s always been about meaning. About connection. About creating something that might not be for everyone but is deeply felt by the ones who find it.

But I also won’t deny that it’s been frustrating. To give so much, and still feel like I’m barely moving forward, is disheartening at times. And yet, here I am—still showing up.

When I post online, it’s not because I’m trying to play into a trend or manipulate the algorithm. I post because I genuinely want to share. Whether it’s a thought, a product, a moment of beauty or something I believe might resonate with someone else, I share because it feels right to do so. I’m not interested in performing or curating my life for clicks. I share when it comes from the heart. And I know that might make it harder for my business to grow in this digital world, but I also know I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because truthfully, I don’t want to be a viral brand. I don’t want to be everywhere. I want to be the shop at the end of the laneway. The kind of place people speak about in soft voices, not sure if it really exists, until they experience it for themselves. And when they do, it stays with them. That’s the energy I want my business to carry—not flash but feeling.

Of course, I’d love to be financially abundant. I’d love to take the weight off, to breathe a little easier, and to know that the energy I put out into the world is not only received but supported. But I want that abundance to come through a way of working that feels honest. I want it to feel warm, grounded, and aligned with the Earth—not just the market.

Sometimes I wonder if this is a generational thing. If maybe the way I do things is out of step with what works now. Or maybe, it’s the opposite. Maybe I’m ahead of something that hasn’t fully landed yet. I’ve always been a bit future-focused, and that can be both a blessing and a challenge—feeling like you're building something real while the world still runs on speed and surface.

It’s strange, because everywhere I look—especially in the spiritual and wellness world—there are people offering formulas, telling you how to market, how to sell, how to grow your brand. It can feel overwhelming, like there’s a “right” way to do things and I somehow missed the memo. But none of it has ever felt like it fits me. I didn’t start this to become a marketing machine. I started this because I believe in what I offer, and I want to share it with those who need it.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with the formulas or those who follow them. In fact, I admire so many of these incredible creators and business owners who are thriving using those methods. It just isn’t my market. My rhythm is different. And slowly, I’m learning to be okay with that.

But I won’t pretend it doesn’t hurt, especially when what once felt like a mission now sometimes feels like a hobby. That shift has been creeping in, and it’s uncomfortable to admit. Because when you pour your heart into something, you want it to be more than a side note.

So, I guess I’m asking the question out loud.
Am I truly unable to evolve with this modern world?
Or is there still space for people like me—people building soul-first, Earth-aligned businesses that grow gently, intentionally, and from the inside out?

All the data says I need to post more. Be louder. Grab attention quickly and constantly remind people that I exist. But my intuition says something different. It tells me to trust. To keep going. To honour my pace, even if it feels invisible at times.

Because maybe, just maybe, while the science and formulas aren’t quite on my side—the Universe is.

Maybe this is taking time because it’s meant to. Maybe I’m not behind at all. Maybe I’m simply rooted in seasonless soil, where the growth is happening underground, before it ever shows above the surface.

And maybe one day, the right people will find their way to my little shop at the end of the laneway. Not because I chased them. But because they were meant to find it.
Because they were called.

If you’ve found your way here, maybe you were called too.
You can step inside my little online shop — the one at the end of the laneway — here:
👉 www.elmntearth.com