Artisan Candles

Artisan Candles

Dear Wellness Enthusiast,

Lately, during these long and strange times, I decided to pick up an old childhood hobby of mine; Greek philosophy and science. Yes, I know, what a nerd. But the Greeks and their ancient creation stories always fascinated me, especially the concept of the Four Elements; Earth, Wind, Water and Fire. And yes, I’ve been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender too.

But for some reason, now, Fire spoke to me. The way it sways and dances with the wind entranced me, its elusive and seductive glow captured my curiosity, its formidable warmth and light comforted me. No wonder the Greeks admired it so much. And it wasn’t just them, either. From Hinduism to Buddhism, Judaism to Christianity and other ancient civilizations respected Fire as a tie to the spiritual.

Naturally, I want you to be able to experience the same magnificence. That’s why I hand poured these candles with your spirit in mind. Light the candle, set your intentions, whatever they may be, and witness the beauty of Fire unlock the decadent scents of nature.



Some of the places I enjoyed going to most, pre-quarantine, were the fruit nurseries in Southern California. I, especially, loved walking through the hundreds of nectarine trees and taking in the scented galaxy of fruits. The fresh citrus of the Burgundy Plums, the pure sweetness of Green Gages, and the charming sourness of the Kaffirs, you could practically taste the abundance.



When I used to take these cross-country runs around Santa Fe, or up in Pecos in New Mexico, I would get these strong whiffs of Douglas Firs and Aspen, cross-pollinating with the rush of the salty Santa Fe River. The natural rawness, the ingrained strength, the mysterious beauty of the forest in the middle of a desert invigorated and excited me.



One of my fondest childhood hobbies is collecting first edition books. When I was visiting my parents in New Mexico, I found my old wooden “treasure chest” (It was a milk crate) where I put all my first edition books before I went to university. I managed to find my 1901 hand copied edition of The Egyptian Book of the Dead which I bought from a market in Colorado when I was 17. This book ignited my interest in spirituality and it definitely planted the seed which the plant you see before you came from. The instance my hands felt the subtle leather cover, I caught a hint of the tobacco the scribe was smoking when he hand copied the text, all those years ago. And when I opened the book, its dust exploded like an ancient supernova. It magically smelled like the century old sap from the trees used to make the pages seeped through the patina leather and the flower-dyed ink of the illustrations and written spells.



I went backpacking in China a few years into college, and it’s easy to see how the country’s profound philosophies arose amidst the serenity and beauty of its natural world. Bamboo, in particular, struck me as it did monks and mystics of the olden days, and probably other college kids trying to find themselves in another country. During that week-long arduous trip I would find myself struggling, and struggling against that struggle only to find myself struggling more. All the while I was surrounded by this rich bamboo forest, rustling and singing, swaying with a grace only bred through fortitude. Its strength is in its flexibility, its beauty in its stillness. The way it would carry the wind, but never be carried by it.



I’ll admit it, one of my guilty pleasures is candy. Sometimes, I eat one or two more chocolate bars than I ought to, but keep that between us kay? Anyways, my favorite candy, oddly enough, is peppermint (you saw it coming). When I was a little kid, I really appreciated when restaurants used to give peppermints with the receipt, and I still appreciate it now. Its tender sweetness evokes a joy and optimism within my soul, making me want to sing and dance and laugh.



There’s this small island a rickety plane and dinghy boat ride away from mainland Philippines called Romblon. And in Romblon, it always rains, and the rain would tip-tap on the roof of a little bar timidly hidden by banana leaves but wonderfully exposed to the coastal ocean (popular with the French Tourists, too). Their fresh piña coladas, made from the coconuts in provincial trees and pineapples harvested in the morning, fuse with the rain’s tender petrichor, and the bitterness of the ocean with a hint of the limes burning from the sizzling marlins.



One of my first memories was the smell of a fresh pot of green tea my father made, and a little sip from his clay cup, and he told me I smiled with the few baby teeth I had. The water would be fetched from the well, and my dad would pick the leaves himself. Whenever I would have a fit as a toddler, he would just have me breathe in the herbs’ soothing and inviting aroma and sip a little of that magic elixir to calm me down. Even today, when I’m having a particularly rough day; as soon as the boiling water descends to create with the tea leaves an enchanting cloud of bliss, I retreat.



A few miles from where I lived in New Mexico was this little arroyo (basically a dried up river) leading to a beaten trail which, after a couple miles, through a thicket would lead up to a small field; surprising you with a universe of striking and wild lavender plants. I would spend hours in this field losing myself to the whispers of the bushes, the tickle of the daisies on my skin, and of course, the subtle majesty of the lavender.



I’d often find myself hypnotized by the dark grandeur of nighttime, its serene silence, the fresh smell of soil and air and stars. The desert night with its star-colored freckles, brings in the cool air from the mountains with remnants of soil, flora, trees and rivers. I could almost smell the night, as I laid down between the earth and sky.



My favorite metaphysical shop, as all typical metaphysical shops do, smells a lot like White Sage. But the first time I walked in; I remember it being a little different than the other ones. This shop smelled and felt warm. I’d very soon realize; it was because of the generous family who ran the store. I formed a bond with them as I naturally became a regular, they consulted me on spirituality and always lovingly held my hand when they did, they attended my graduation and were overall just a wholesome family trying to educate and take care of everybody, and I tried to harness that energy into the candle.



When I used to go out and actually buy my groceries (lol what), I enjoyed nothing more than going to the local farmer’s market. The sun would be high and bright, but the wind would offer a relieving breeze, carrying with it the delectable scents of rosemary and white sage, berries and wild honey, spices and flowers.