The irreplaceable culture of creativity

This Sunday I hosted a beeswax candle workshop. I gathered 5 women into my tiny apartment, laid out cheese, grapes and chocolates, and guided us all through pouring our beeswax candles. I showed each woman how to centre their wicks. I explained the temperatures and melting points of beeswax. I gave a little bit of of the basic information needed to make a candle and then I stepped out way and let the slow craft and connection begin.

Some of the women left their candles natural, while others experimented decorating with flower petals and botanicals. Every woman moved at her own pace, making decisions that suited her design needs and intentions. Every woman got to feel the warmth of a newborn beeswax candle in their hands, some not resisting the urge to press it to their cheek.

It was a calm, beautiful afternoon filled with inspiring, simple creations. Each woman took home 2 candles and an incense dish made of beeswax. I got to share my passion for objects created from natural, impermanent materials in a relaxing setting amongst a community of creatives. I couldn’t have been more at ease or happy.

This differs so much from my previous endeavours. Before discovering the art of candle-making, I spent two almost two decades in the wellness industry as a certified nutritionist and yoga teacher. An overachiever at school, I loved every assignment and essay. But when it came to the real world, I hated parading as the expert. I found it difficult and tedious to show up as a professional and perform my duty. I loved nutrition and yoga, and teaching has always come naturally to me, but I hated feeling responsible for keeping the knowledge and maintaining the safety of my clients and students. I found the preparation of sessions and classes to be misaligned with me somehow; an effort I never quite got comfortable with. I also felt an unnatural dependance of clients and students on me that made me question if what we do as healers and teachers is really in the best interests of the public.

It’s true I’m an over thinker, so I spent the better part of those decades quietting my mind, focussed on finding my place in the industry. But I found it so unnerving. I didn’t want to be the expert in the room. I didn’t want people to be relying on me for their healing journey, not even for a small part of it. But I valued the teachings I had been so passionate about while learning them, and it would take me 2 decades to finally let both careers go.

Then I took a year off to focus on doing something for myself: Creativity.

Within that year, I missed having a community. I got a part time job to increase my social connections, and then put feelers out to see if anyone would like to pour candles with me. It turns out, many would. So I opened up my tiny studio to a small group of women and we, as equals, got to create together in harmony over good food and great connection.

My heart sang.

This ease? This is what I want to feel as I’m traversing through the world. Gone are my desires to dominate an industry. Gone is the drive to conquer imposter syndrome. Instead, I’ve welcomed in something I know in my heart to be a truly genuine offering. Connecting with equals, creating, and enjoying the restful inspiration of slow craft.

Just the way nature intended.

It’s a privilege to be able to dedicate myself to creativity. My previous endeavours have led me here, and I don’t take them for granted, but my goals have become aligned with what I know to make my heart happy. More shared experiences; less grasping to become the ‘expert’ in a capitalist economy.

I’ve come to understand that hands-on, shared experiences around natural materials have always been central to human life. Making things together, with intention and care, isn’t just a hobby, it’s a cultural inheritance.

These gatherings might seem small, but to me, they’re part of something much larger: a return to what we’ve always known. That connection, creativity, and community are essential to a good life.

This is where I want to work from now — not as an expert, but as a participant. Not as a teacher, but as someone simply making alongside others.

This feels right.