When the Spark Fades
as inspiration softens into devotion
Dear, Creatives ~
The doors to Prismara are open until this Friday, April 11.
Prismara is a 6-month creative mastermind and mentorship circle for people who want to bring an authentic project—whether it’s a book, business, modality, offering, podcast, or something not yet fully formed—into the world with clarity, embodiment, and support.
It’s for creators, coaches, practitioners, and leaders in a season of creative becoming.
Together, we work with the creative process, nervous system and emotional resilience, shadow work, intuition, somatics, and energetic alignment—so that your work can emerge in a way that is both deeply true and sustainably held.
This is about becoming the kind of person who can bring your soul’s work into form, not just once, but again and again.
We begin Wednesday, April 16. Only a few spots remain.

I’m tired.
And honestly? I’m a little nervous to share that.
I’ve been launching Prismara for nearly seven weeks now, while also preparing to lead two retreats (amongst a whole slew of other life things).
One of them—The Foundations Retreat—is now open, and is going to be amazing.
This weekend, I tried to refill my cup the way I usually do—
I paddleboarded on the sea.
Hiked through the redwoods.
Dropped into a long, nourishing NSDR practice.
I reached for the places that so often bring me back to myself.
And even still—my body is asking for less.
Less screentime. Less pressure.
So I take calls lying on the balcony, letting the sun warm my skin.
I reschedule things. Cancel things.
I come back to the essential.
And I ask myself:
How do I keep showing up when I’m not lit up?
How do I keep building something beautiful when the spark has gone quiet, and the only thing left is the practice?
And I know I’m not alone in this.
Your life is full too—beautiful and demanding.
And maybe, like me, you’re tired of being told to do more.
I’m not here to ask you to push harder.
I’m here to ask: What if you only did what mattered?
What if your energy was spent in service of your soul’s yes—not everything, but the right things?
To whittle away at the parts of your life that don’t feel true.
To sculpt your calendar until it holds only what is yours to hold.
To let your days be filled with an overwhelming yes—not because every task is thrilling, but because every task belongs.
Not everything will feel like a full-body yes in every moment.
There will be days you’d rather step away from all of it.
But that doesn’t mean you’re off track.
It means the work is maturing.
And so are you.
At the beginning of any project, there’s a spark.
A surge of inspiration.
That magnetic pull that says, this is the thing.
And then—inevitably—comes the shift.
The electricity fades. The resistance creeps in.
And the voice arrives: Maybe I’ve lost it. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe I don’t have the energy for this after all.
I used to believe that voice.
I thought something was broken—either in me or in the work.
I only knew how to keep going when I felt on fire.
And because of that, too many beautiful projects were abandoned—not because they weren’t worthy,
but because I didn’t yet know how to stay.
Marriage has taught me another way of seeing.
I’ve been married for three years now—to one man, for life.
Do I wake up every day with the same wide-eyed awe I felt at the beginning?
Of course not.
Neither do you.
We show up.
We grow.
We learn how to commit—by staying committed.
And we recommit, again and again.
David Whyte calls it the three marriages—
To self. To other. To work.
So I’ll ask you:
Are you married to your work?
Not the job.
The soul of it. The gift only you can give.
Because being in that kind of partnership with your work means learning to stay when it’s hard.
When it’s quiet. When it’s inconvenient.
When the honeymoon is over and the calendar is full and the body is tired.
You stay anyway.
Because that’s when the fuel source changes.
Inspiration brought you here.
But devotion is what carries you forward.
Like yoga—you return to the mat.
Like meditation—you sit on the cushion.
Even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.
You take your place.
You remember who you are.
Inspiration may carry us into the work,
but it’s devotion that allows us to stay.
The spark will come and go.
What matters is our willingness to return—
to keep choosing it, even when the glow dims,
even when it asks more from us than we expected.
Even when it’s the final week of a launch,
and you’re thrilled to welcome new people in,
and also…are very ready for a long nap.
And through it all, we learn to honor our rhythms.
I’m reaching the edge of mine.
I may not be able to show up in this final week with the same passionate tenacity I had at the start—and I welcome that too.
I welcome myself, just as I am.
And I welcome my goals, just as they are.
Will I reach them? Maybe.
That’s not actually the point.
I’m deeply proud of how far Prismara and I have come.
And regardless of the final metrics, I’m proud of my commitment.
Because this time, I didn’t run at the first sign of pressure or doubt.
I didn’t collapse under the weight of the stretch.
I met it.
I leaned in.
I received it—not as a problem to solve, but as a gift to grow with.
There is no inner fight.
There is only recalibration.
Tenacity gives way to gentler forward motion.
The flame dims, but the embers are steady.
You’ve probably heard the advice: follow your joy, follow your inspiration.
And yes—I believe in that. I really do.
I mean, I practically preach it.
But sometimes joy isn’t exuberance.
It’s a quieter thing.
For me, showing up for my work—even in the smallest ways—brings a calm joy.
A soft relief.
The sweetness of integrity.
It’s not always electric. But it is real.
And that’s the kind of joy I follow now.
Not the spike. Not the rush.
But the knowing: I’m walking toward what matters.
That’s what we practice inside Prismara.
A space for vision and capacity.
For clarity and nervous system care.
For the sacred rhythm of inspiration, devotion, rest, and return.
If you’ve been hovering, circling, wondering if there’s a space for your creative self to be held this deeply—
I want you to know: there is.
We begin Wednesday, April 16.
Doors close this Friday.
Only a few spots remain.
If your body knows this is for you,
I would be honored to walk this path with you.
And wherever you find yourself in your own commitment to your work—
whether you’re just beginning, returning after a pause, or staying through the stretch—
may you keep returning to what matters.
Even when the spark is just a subtle ember.
Wherever you are on your creative path—
I honor the courage it takes to keep showing up.
Learn More about the Prismara Circle & Apply Today
With love,
Kelly
PS: The Foundations Retreat is also open. This 4-day retreat and training will equip you with foundational tools in FBR Breathwork and Somatic Parts Work to support your ongoing healing and at-home transformation practice.
Led by myself, Jonny Miller, and Ian Stratton—and supported by seven additional co-facilitators—you’ll be deeply held as you do meaningful inner work, expand your toolkit, and cultivate an embodied sense of creative aliveness.
We’ll gather in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, June 25–29. Learn more & apply.
Yes YES YES, the not full-body yes is what I've found the most during my following intuitive life. Because sometimes, fear, doubts, or other things trapped in the body make it not that flow to full-body yes. + when following intuition, it can be very subtle, niggle feelings that aren't easy to notice. And suddenly, the surprise sprung up in the end to say to me. "It's the right choice that you kept going with it." I used to doubt like what you've mentioned as well because I thought following the intuition/the call would be a whole Hell Yes in every step. But it turned out to be another kind of cycle like you mentioned.
"Inspiration may carry us into the work,
but it’s devotion that allows us to stay."