Sometimes you don't know what you're making until you're already doing it.
I have always wanted to be there for the people I love. Being present has always felt like my way of showing love. When I'm with someone, I feel like I can help them relax and feel safe. But as my life got busier, with more people and more responsibilities, I ran into a simple problem: I can't be everywhere at once.
I used to joke that I wished I could split into a hundred versions of myself. That way I could be with everyone who needed me, no matter where they were. I never figured out how to actually do that. But behind the joke was something real. I wanted the people I love to feel my presence, even when I couldn't be there in person.
I had no idea that this wish would become the story behind my healing oils.
A Christmas I got sick
It happened one Christmas when I got sick. I moved into my healing sanctuary so I wouldn't get anyone else sick. While I was alone there, instead of trying to be productive, I started playing with scents. I wrote down herbs I loved, smells that caught my attention, and combinations that felt right together. I wasn't trying to build anything. I was just curious how they would work together.
I wasn't thinking about making a product or starting a business. I wasn't thinking about what any of it might turn into. I was just playing, the way you do when no one is watching and nothing has to work out.
I think that's a feeling we lose as we grow up — the freedom to explore something without asking what it's for. We get so used to asking if something is useful, or if it will work, or if it will lead anywhere, that we forget how to just enjoy figuring things out. That Christmas, I wasn't trying to make anything important. I was just following what I loved.
When it started to make sense
As the blends came together, I started to notice something. What I was making felt connected to prayers and intentions I had carried for years — the wish for peace, for love, and for a way to share my presence even when I couldn't be there myself.
I began to see the oils in a new way.
Maybe I couldn't be in every room where someone needed comfort. But I could make something that carried the feeling behind my presence. I built it from plants and rituals that were already part of my life, and filled it with the same love and prayers I had carried for years.
That's where the first seven oils came from. At the time, I didn't know what they would become. I just kept following what felt right. Later, I realized how closely they connected to the rest of my spiritual work, and to the 49 plants that eventually shaped everything I taught.
We don't always know what we're making
That experience changed the way I think about making things.
Most of the time, we want to know what something is for before we even start. Will it work? Is it useful? Will people understand it? Will it lead anywhere? We want to see the finish line before we take the first step. But some things don't work that way.
Sometimes you're just drawn to something. You want to make it, learn it, or explore it, even if it doesn't have a clear purpose yet and doesn't seem practical. It's worth sticking with that feeling for a while, instead of rushing to prove it's useful.
I think this is true in most parts of life. We shape our homes through small choices we barely notice. We give our kids memories through ordinary days that don't feel special at the time. We build friendships through dinners and conversations that seemed simple when they happened. We make art because something moved us. We write because we have something to say, even before we know how to say it.
Not everything has to turn into a business or a success. Sometimes we make something simply because it wants to come out of us.
What keeps pulling at you?
For me, making things is no longer about forcing a result. It's more about paying attention to what I truly love. What keeps calling me back? What am I curious about, even without a clear reason? What do I keep returning to? I think those questions can tell us a lot about ourselves.
You don't have to turn every interest into a project. You don't have to make everything productive. But it's worth staying curious about the things that quietly pull at you. There might be something there worth paying attention to.
When I look back at the oils now, I see they were never really about scent. They were one way of expressing something I had wanted for a long time — to be present, to bring peace, to share love, and to leave something behind that could stay with someone, even when I couldn't.
I wanted to be everywhere. Maybe I was never meant to be. Maybe I was just meant to create.
Letting love take shape
This is something I'm still learning. You don't always know what you're making when you start. Sometimes you have a clear vision. Other times, you only have a feeling. Sometimes there's a plan, and sometimes there's just a desire you can't fully explain yet.
You can wait until everything makes sense. Or you can start with what you already have — a feeling, a curiosity, something you love — and see what happens when you give it your full attention.
Because there are things you can only learn by making them. The meaning often shows up later. The shape can change along the way. Something that starts small can become part of a much bigger story. And sometimes, when you follow what you love without needing to know where it leads, you realize you weren't only making something for other people.
You were giving the light inside you a way to reach the world.