Pisces New Moon: The Spark of the Joy Guide

It’s the eve of the Pisces New Moon, 3/2/2022, as I sit down to write this. Thoughts and ideas are moving through my mind—frenetic but peaceful—asking nicely to come out on paper.

This is somewhat the opposite of my initial plan: just rest and release, as I like to do during the final, dark waning stage of Ms. Luna’s lunation.

But as we know about creativity—you never quite know when it’s going to hit. And when it does, you have to follow it. Otherwise, it disappears, slipping from consciousness like a dream you promised to write down, but didn’t.

This has happened to me a few times recently. I’d get a spark—something big I felt called to share. But I’d be too exhausted, promising myself I’d write it down after I rested and had more focus. Then I’d rest. My house would be clean, everything “perfect” and aligned for creativity… and the spark would be gone. The fluid thoughts? Nowhere to be found.

At least not for that topic.

That juicy state—the one where you're dancing with the universe—I don’t know it intimately yet, but I’ve had tastes. And it is delicious.

I’m 43 years young (a story for another post), and I had never heard the word creative applied to me until I was about 34, living in Manhattan.

At the time, I was doing deep healing work with a shaman—if you could call him that. During a session, he said something about how creative I was.

I was stunned.

I remember exactly where I was in my apartment. I asked, “You mean everyone is creative, right? And I’m just included in that?”

He stopped and asked Spirit again. Then he looked at me and said: “No. It’s you. You are extremely creative.”

“Huh. Interesting,” I thought.

Resourceful? YES. That, I knew. I could problem-solve in the most chaotic situations (except when it came to tech). I’d been resourceful since childhood, something I later learned is common among sensitive children and those navigating chronic trauma. It’s how we cope, how we survive intensity.

And when I left corporate in 2008—walking away from a high-paying salary to help build startups—I became resourceful in clothing, art, furniture, and all things material. I became a phenomenal thrifter, a sale-spotter, someone with a sharp eye for beauty and quality. That resourcefulness only deepened over time.

But creative? Me?

That felt reserved for artists, designers, dancers, singers, musicians, poets...

Certainly not me.

Still, something deep inside me cracked open that day.

Looking back, I think it sparked a subconscious mission to discover my creativity.

In fact, just a year or so later, I named my company Joy Creative Group.

At that time, Joy Creative Group meant a group of collaborators—a gathering of unique talents. It was my way of celebrating the women behind the scenes. The ones doing the heavy lifting, whose egos weren’t quite ready for the spotlight. I saw them because I was them. I wanted to help these women be seen, heard, and shine.

Through my work growing some of the most sought-after brands in the natural beauty world, I developed strong relationships with some truly respected friends in the industry. We supported each other fiercely as our careers began to take off.

That was the original vision of JCG:

My first creative movement.

Collaboration.

This story spans about 8½ years—from then until now. I may go back and share earlier parts, but for tonight, this stretch feels most important.

It’s the journey of reclaiming all the fragmented parts of myself I couldn’t see or feel clearly—until now.

Many call this the path of wholeness.

One of my favorite mentors once said:

“Existence should be ecstatic—by nature of the word existence.”

I’ve never heard anything more beautiful. And nothing more worthy of the deep work it takes to live it.

That’s why I’m starting this now—with the intent to get it live by this year’s Spring Equinox, the astrological new year of 2022, in what feels like the most wild and precious time on Earth (thank you, Mary Oliver).

It only took me 8 years and 19 days to get here. Yes, good things take time. Oh, do they ever…

Thank you for being here now.

I have been through the ringer in this incarnation. And yet, in the past few years—doing the excruciating, soul-crushing, often terrifying, “Am I going to make it?” kind of work… the lonely, disorienting, ego-shedding work—something miraculous has happened.

JOY.

Big, overwhelming, holy joy. So real that I sometimes ask, “Is it possible to feel this good, this whole, this complete, this strong?”

It feels like I’ve unlocked a secret from the universe.

Like it was all part of a divine master plan.

And since Keri JOY is my given name, I believe it is not only my birthright to experience this kind of magic—but yours too.

Welcome to the JOY Guide.

I am here. I am alive. I am in love. And I’m just getting started.