💖 Pricing with Heart: Valuing Your Time, Energy, and Emotional Labor💖

✨ A Truthful Beginning

Pricing your work as a creative isn’t just about numbers — it’s about self-worth, emotional labor, and the courage to say, “My time matters.”

For artists, makers, and emotional storytellers like me, pricing can feel tangled. We’re not just selling a product — we’re offering comfort, transformation, and connection. And that kind of magic deserves to be honored.

This blog is my love letter to every creative who’s ever whispered, “Is it okay to charge for this?”

Yes. It is. And here’s how I do it — with heart.

🧮 Know Your Worth (Even When It Feels Scary)

Pricing starts with clarity: What do you need to earn to thrive?

I include everything — materials, time, emotional energy, packaging, prep, and recovery. I also use emotional calibration. I ask myself how each price point feels, from “resentful” to “excited-and-a-bit-scared.” I choose the number that feels like a stretch and a celebration.

“I want to feel proud when I wrap a package. Not depleted.”

🧵 Emotional Labor Is Real — And Billable

My work includes invisible effort: holding space, storytelling, attunement, and care.

I charge for ideation, revisions, and emotional presence — not just the finished product. If a plush companion helps a child sleep through the night, that’s transformational value.

“I’m not just selling a plush. I’m offering a ritual of safety.”

💬 Communicate with Confidence and Care

I frame my pricing as an invitation, not an apology.

I use language that reflects the emotional value:

• “This bundle is designed to support your child’s courage journey.”

• “Each piece is handcrafted with emotional attunement and symbolic intention.”

I offer sliding scale or payment plans only when they feel sustainable to me — not out of guilt, but out of generosity.

🌟 A Blessing for the Brave

May you price your work with clarity, courage, and compassion.

May you feel proud of every sale, knowing it honors your time and your magic.

May your offerings be received with the same love you poured into them.

🎄Home for the holidays : holding space when everyone comes home🎄

✨ A Tender Truth

The holidays are a season of reunion — of laughter, nostalgia, and shared meals. But when everyone comes home, so do the dynamics, the unspoken tensions, and the emotional echoes of years past.

As someone who creates emotional rituals and safe spaces, I’ve learned to approach this season with intention, softness, and a few quiet tools that help me stay grounded.

🧭 The Emotional Landscape of “Home”

• Reflect on how returning home can stir up old roles, expectations, or emotional triggers.

• Acknowledge the mix of joy and overwhelm.

• Share how you prepare emotionally — maybe through journaling, simmer pots, or creature companions.

“Before the first guest arrives, I light a candle and whisper to myself: ‘You are allowed to take up space. You are allowed to be new.’”

🧺 Rituals That Keep Me Grounded

• Simmer pot blends for emotional tone-setting

• Nail art or wearable symbols that remind you of your intentions

• A courage spirit tucked in your bag or room as a quiet anchor

• A bedtime ritual to release the day’s emotional residue

🗣️ Navigating Conversations with Grace

• How you handle emotionally charged topics or unsolicited advice

• Gentle scripts or gestures that help you redirect or protect your energy

• The power of silence, breath, and choosing not to engage

“I’ve learned that not every comment needs a response. Sometimes, my ritual is simply placing a hand on my heart and choosing peace.”

🛏️ Creating Micro-Sanctuaries

• How you carve out emotional space even in a full house

• Tips for creating a cozy corner, a sensory retreat, or a moment of solitude

• How you use scent, texture, and light to soothe your nervous system

🌟 Closing: A Blessing for the Season

May your holidays be filled with warmth, not performance.

May you feel held, even when the room is loud.

May you remember: you are allowed to change, even when others expect the old you.

Whispers of Bravery: crafting Spirit companions for tender hearts

A Gentle Invitation

In a world that often asks children to be brave before they feel safe, I create companions that whisper: “You are held. You are enough. You are allowed to feel.”

These courage spirits aren’t just plush toys — they’re soft rituals, emotional mirrors, and tiny guardians of vulnerability. Each one is born from a sensation, a story, a need to externalize what’s too big to hold alone. They carry gentle forms, expressive faces, and stories that speak the language of tenderness.

I make them for the child who trembles before sleep. For the one who hides their tears in silence. For the parent who longs to offer comfort that goes deeper than words.

Why Courage Spirits?

I believe that courage isn’t loud. It’s not always bold or fearless. Sometimes, courage is a quiet breath in the dark. A whispered “I’m scared” that still reaches for comfort.

Children are often asked to be brave before they’ve learned what safety feels like. They’re praised for independence, but rarely taught how to name their fears or ask for help. That’s where my courage spirits come in.

Each one is designed to hold space for vulnerability. To offer a child a tangible way to externalize their feelings — whether it’s anxiety before school, sadness after a hard day, or the ache of missing someone. These companions don’t fix feelings. They witness them. They say, “It’s okay to feel this. I’ll be here while you do.”

The Creative Process: From Sensation to Spirit

Every courageous spirit begins with a feeling. Not just an emotion, but a sensation — the tightness in a child’s chest, the flutter of anxiety in their belly, the heaviness of a lonely afternoon. I sit with that feeling, let it speak, and ask: “If this sensation had a shape, a texture, a face… what would it be?”

Sometimes the answer is a creature with long, comforting arms. Sometimes it’s a wide-eyed guardian with a gentle expression and a tuft of fur that invites touch. I choose colors that evoke safety, softness, and emotional clarity — muted blues for calm, warm pinks for tenderness, earthy browns for grounding.

I sketch until the spirit feels “just right.” Not perfect — but emotionally true. I refine the eyes, the posture, the proportions, until the companion feels like it could hold a child’s fear without trying to fix it.

Each spirit is given a name and a story. Not just a backstory, but a purpose: what kind of courage it offers, what feelings it understands, and how it might help a child feel seen. These stories become part of the adoption ritual, helping children connect with their companion in a way that feels magical and meaningful.

Rituals and Storybooks: Deepening the Connection

A courage spirit isn’t just adopted — it’s welcomed through ritual. I design each companion with a story that speaks directly to the child’s heart: what the spirit understands, how it offers comfort, and what kind of bravery it carries. These stories become part of the adoption experience, helping children feel chosen, seen, and safe.

I also craft bedtime guides and sensory gestures that help children externalize their feelings. A child might trace a finger along their spirit’s fur while naming a worry. They might tuck a note into a hidden pocket or place the spirit beside them during moments of overwhelm.

These rituals aren’t complicated. They’re intuitive, gentle, and emotionally attuned. They give children language for their inner world — and permission to feel without shame.

A Whisper and a Blessing

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes, it curls up beside you in the form of a plush companion, waiting patiently for your heart to speak.

My hope is that every child who meets a courage spirit feels seen — not for how brave they appear, but for how bravely they feel. That they learn courage can coexist with fear, and that softness is a kind of strength.

These spirits are more than creations. They’re invitations. To feel. To name. To be held.

May every tender heart find a companion who speaks its language. May every parent feel empowered to offer comfort that lingers long after the lights go out. And may we all remember: bravery begins with belonging.

Seeing Red Before Bed🌒

Rituals of Rest, Rooting, and Rebellion

The house exhales when I turn off the main lights. The red glow above the breakfast bar hums to life, spilling warmth into the space between kitchen and living room. Down the hallway, tiny night lights flicker just enough to guide small feet without breaking the spell.

The atmosphere shifts. The laughter of bedtime stories and tickle fights softens into something cozier, almost secretive. The house feels alive, like a tavern tucked inside castle walls—warm, protective, filled with kindness and joy. Not the cold hush of stone corridors, but the glow of a hearth where love gathers.

It’s not just ambiance. It’s a ritual. A signal. A spell. And once you’ve felt it, you’ll want to bring that glow into your own home too.

Why Red Light Matters

Science tells us red light is the gentlest wavelength. Unlike blue light, which suppresses melatonin and jolts the brain into wakefulness, red light whispers: rest now. It supports circadian rhythms, encourages melatonin production, and helps the body ease into sleep.

But beyond biology, red light carries emotional weight. It mimics firelight and candlelight—the oldest companions of human rest. It’s the color of hearth embers, of warmth, of life force. In low light, red becomes enveloping—less stimulation, more sanctuary.

A Lineage of Flame: Red Light Across Cultures

Our souls have always known this glow. Across time and tradition, fire and red light have been the guardians of night:

• Zoroastrian temples kept eternal flames as living embodiments of truth and divine presence.

• Hindu households lit lamps at dusk, invoking Agni, the fire god, to carry prayers upward.

• Celtic bonfires at Beltane and Samhain marked thresholds between worlds, offering protection and guidance.

• Rome’s Vestal Virgins tended the sacred flame of Vesta, believing the city’s safety depended on its glow.

• Buddhist altars shimmer with candles, symbols of enlightenment and the dispelling of darkness.

• Christian vigils burn red candles for love, sacrifice, and the Holy Spirit’s presence.

• Jewish synagogues hold the Ner Tamid, the eternal light, as a reminder that the divine never sleeps.

• Chinese lanterns, glowing red during festivals, ward off evil and invite prosperity.

• Japanese Obon lanterns guide ancestral spirits home, then back again, bridging worlds with flame.

Everywhere, in every age, humans have turned to red light and firelight for the same things: warmth, protection, grounding, connection. The glow has always been more than light—it has been presence, safety, and love.

My Evening Ritual

For me, it’s simple. I turn off the big lights and let the red glow above the breakfast bar take over. The kids and I tumble into bedtime stories, tickle fights, and the kind of laughter that only comes when everyone is a little too tired.

The red light hangs above us like a quiet ember, a backdrop for love and winding down. Some nights, when I light every candle in the house, the feeling deepens into something almost sacred: the house alive and breathing, awake to keep watch, holding us in warmth and unconditional love.

It’s not elaborate. It doesn’t need to be. The glow itself is enough.

Bringing It Into Modern Life

You don’t need a temple flame or a bonfire to feel this magic. A single red bulb, a candle, or a cluster of warm night lights can shift the entire mood of a home. It’s a way of reclaiming the night from harsh fluorescents and glowing screens.

Red light is a reminder that rest is sacred. That the house itself can be a guardian. That warmth and protection are not luxuries, but necessities.

Closing the Circle

When I see red before bed, I’m not just winding down the day. I’m stepping into a lineage of flame that stretches back millennia. I’m joining every hearth, every lantern, every eternal flame that has ever kept watch through the night.

The glow says: you are home, you are safe, you are not alone.

And that is the kind of magic worth keeping.

The Hat That Started It All: How I Taught Myself to Crochet (and Accidentally Changed My Life)

I was sitting in the cafeteria at the local mall with my 7-month-old baby when I saw it.

The hat.

This was shortly after the release of the first Despicable Me and I kept seeing these adorable minion beanies here and there, but this one—this one was different. It had the classic yellow with one goggled eye, but instead of the usual blue for the overalls, it had a deep maroon. And maroon? That’s one of my favorite colors. The right shade, the right tint, and I’m basically vibrating with excitement and this was hitting the spot.

I had to find out where people were getting these hats.

Cue the search party: my mom and I scoured almost every store in the mall, then dozens more outside it and around town. Nothing. No one had even heard of them. Thankfully, Google exists. After actual days of searching websites and forums, the only thing I could find was a crochet pattern.

Problem: I didn’t know how to crochet. Bigger problem: I didn’t know anyone who did. Even bigger problem (well, maybe this one wasn’t a problem…): I had to have one! Bonus problem: The price of handmade ones? Way outside my budget.

So, I did what any wild-hearted woman would do when the world tries telling her “No”: I taught myself.

I grabbed one of those cheap “learn to crochet” kits from Walmart, picked up a couple skeins of yarn (just the colors I needed, for now), and dove in. Within an hour, I had a basic understanding. Another hour and a YouTube tutorial later—I had the hat. The exact one I’d been chasing!

Ahh… cue the satisfaction! The pride!!

And just like that, a door opened.

Suddenly, I realized: I can do things. If I want something, I can make it. I can learn it. I can create it. And I get quick, satisfying results from just a short burst of effort. That’s powerful.

I started taking requests from people who worked with my mom. It was a fun little side hustle—nothing serious, just a few bucks and a lot of joy. Even after I quit taking order requests though, I never stopped crocheting. Eventually, I shifted my focus and found more passions: sewing, making matching purses and wallets for me and my daughter, hand embroidery. I even tried to teach myself to knit (life got wild before I could finish, but hey—it’s still on the list).

Now, life has taken another turn, and I’m standing in front of a new opportunity. I’m gathering all these skills I adore—crochet, sewing, embroidery, and yes, one day I will conquer knitting—and building them into something incredible.

Welcome to Woven Wild.

This space is where I’ll share my journey: following patterns, testing tutorials, creating one-of-a-kind pieces, and maybe even reviewing the wild and wonderful designs I stumble across.

Whether you’re here to learn something new, get inspired, or just admire the magic—I’m so glad you’re here.

The First Seed Is Me

The First Seed Was Me

A soft beginning to my journey toward growing food, growing magic, and growing myself.

Something wasn’t working.

I couldn’t name it at first—just a quiet ache, a sense that my life was slightly misaligned, like a beautiful quilt stitched with love but pulled too tight in one corner.

I’ve always been mindful of what I eat. I’ve danced with veganism, flirted with carnivore, and dove headfirst into the organic aisle like it was a sacred spring. But none of it felt like mine. Not fully.

And then it hit me:
The biggest improvement I could make wasn’t in what I bought.
It was in what I grew.

Love, Cuddles, and Compost

When I stitch my amigurumi creatures, I cuddle them the moment they’re complete. Even the tiniest ones. I believe they need that final touch of love and magic to come alive. And I know—deeply—that my food deserves the same.

I want to sweet-talk my tomatoes.
I want to hug my squash.
I want to raise my carrots like kin.

Because when I nurture the soil, I nurture myself.
When I feed my future critters with care, I will feed my own spirit too.
And when I grow something with love, that love doesn’t just stay in the garden and pasture—it comes back to me in every bite.

My Willow Witch Dream (and the Garden That’s Coming)

I haven’t started my garden yet.
No chickens clucking in the yard.
No herbs sunbathing on the windowsill.
We’re renting, and how long we’ll be here is still uncertain.

But I have begun.

I’m learning. Researching. Gathering ideas like seeds in my pocket.
I’m buying from local growers who are already living the dream and generously sharing it.
And I’m making things from scratch—because convenience is a sneaky thief, leaving us full but not truly fed..

Snacks? There are so many to make
Sauces like Mayo? Homemade tastes a million times better! I don’t even like mayo, miracle whip girl here, but never again!
Bread? Still flirting with that one

These baby steps feel like spells. Quiet rebellions. Whispers to my future garden: I’m coming.

And while I don’t grow my own food yet, I do my best to make the most of every meal.
Most days, my kitchen smells like rosemary and rebellion—like a cottage tucked deep in the forest, where love simmers in every pot and scent becomes memory.

I call this My Willow Witch Kitchen, and it is filled with spells disguised as lunch recipes and rituals disguised as dinner prep. It’s not launched yet, but the dream is alive.

And this blog—this space—is where I’ll begin to whisper it into the world.

Because Our Improvement Project isn’t just about products or brands.
It’s about stories.
It’s about becoming.
It’s about honoring even our most ridiculous truths as sacred. (Like wanting to be lovingly devoured by a willow tree and its bug entourage.)

So, I’ll keep making magic with what I have.
Feeding my family with intention.
Planting seeds—some in the soil, some in the spirit—until the garden catches up to the dream.

Until Then…

I’ll keep dreaming of my garden.
I’ll keep cuddling my stuffies.
I’ll keep baking my bread and writing my spells.
And I’ll keep sharing, one messy, magical post at a time.

If you’re here, reading this, maybe you’re planting your own first seed too.
Let’s grow together.

The Storm of uncertainty

Fell into a bit of ADHD burn out with a spout of depression. Climbed back into my hidey-hole.

Ready to emerge again, must get caught up on all my slacking to-do's.

It's always a surprise when I come out of my hermit shell. It's almost as though I don’t even realize I went back in.

I come out of my shell long enough to move a couple inches forward. The fog lifts away for a while and it's like I have the ability to do things! I feel free, the gate to my tiny cage has been lifted!

The fog begins to roll in, increasing in density and mass. Growing darker and heavier with each passing second. I feel myself curling up into my cozy home ready to prepare for the storm. The fog is so thick it has covered any possible source of light. The wind is whirling so intensely with gushing bellows of air to throw my little crab self, shell and all, into the twisting, raging fit of a level 7 tornado busting through concrete walls. I awake months later confused and battered from the storm beating me so harshly that it takes a moment to gather my bearings.

Just as I begin to realize. Once I have that breakthrough of remembering everything that I just experienced another storm is headed right for me.

But don’t you worry, because while I am getting thrown against life's batting cage and getting beaten to a pulp, there is so much growth and progress happening within. Where no one can see.

I'm learning the patterns of the storm, I am aware of the offsets and I am constantly seeking the opportunities to obtain balance.

~ Makayla

Self-loves helps me to accept the scenario in which my life is playing currently. I am able to offer myself more compassion and understanding, and that my fellow hermit crabs, is a mighty win!

It is difficult to have self-love and care when it seems all your time is sucked away by two energy consuming tiny humans who demand all of your time and attention. However, here is to making more of an effort to make time for things such as meditation, "spa" night, crafty night for just yourself and/or with friends. Having girls night more frequently, and even allowing yourself to lock away in your own space to decompress and let the nerves settle. Removing the boiling pot of water from the blazing burner and simmering down to peace.

I am at the trail head of this new path, I am terrified of the unknown, yet also ecstatic to be moving in a direction I had not contemplated before. This journey is bound to be a wild one, also an extremely rewarding one!