Speaker 1: Hello and welcome. I'm so glad you're here tonight. Before
Speaker 1: we begin. If these stories bring you peace, I'd be
Speaker 1: grateful if you'd take a moment to like this video
Speaker 1: and subscribe to the channel. It helps others find their
Speaker 1: way to the workshop too. But for now, let everything
Speaker 1: else fade away. Tonight we're going to a quiet workshop,
Speaker 1: a place where light is made, where wax becomes something beautiful.
Speaker 1: We're scent and warmth and careful work combined to create
Speaker 1: candles that will bring comfort to others. You're the candle maker,
Speaker 1: and evening is your favorite time to work. Let's prepare
Speaker 1: your body for rest. Find your most comfortable position, adjust
Speaker 1: anything you need. You're safe here. You're exactly where you
Speaker 1: need to be. Take a gentle breath in through your nose,
Speaker 1: Hold it softly, and release it slowly through your mouth.
Speaker 1: Good again, Breathe in slowly and deeply, hold for a moment,
Speaker 1: and let it go, releasing any tension from your day.
Speaker 1: Your shoulders drop away from your ears, your jaw relaxes,
Speaker 1: teeth slightly apart. Your tongue rests softly in your mouth.
Speaker 1: Your eyes are gently closed. There's nothing you need to
Speaker 1: see right now. Just my voice, just the story, just
Speaker 1: the peace. Feel your body becoming heavy, sinking into comfort,
Speaker 1: supported and safe. There's no hurry here, no deadlines, just
Speaker 1: the slow, patient work of making light. And now, when
Speaker 1: you're ready, come with me. We're going to the workshop.
Speaker 1: It's early evening. The sun has set, but the sky
Speaker 1: still holds light that in between time, twilight, when day
Speaker 1: becomes night, when the world grows quiet. You walk down
Speaker 1: a cobblestone street in a small village. The stones are
Speaker 1: worn smooth by centuries of foot steps. Your own footsteps
Speaker 1: are quiet, peaceful. Most shops are closed now, windows dark,
Speaker 1: the day's work finished. But ahead you see light glowing
Speaker 1: from one window, warm, golden, inviting your workshop. The sign
Speaker 1: above the door is simple, hand painted wood, weathered by time.
Speaker 1: It reads candle maker, and beneath that, in smaller letters,
Speaker 1: light for every home. You reach for the door handle,
Speaker 1: brass cool to the touch. You turn it, push the
Speaker 1: door open, and step inside. The workshop welcomes you with
Speaker 1: warmth and scent. The warmth comes from the large fireplace
Speaker 1: built into the wall on your left. Stone and brick,
Speaker 1: blackened by years of use. Fire burns there, now steady
Speaker 1: and gentle, not too hot, not roaring, just a comfortable
Speaker 1: even heat, just enough to keep the workshop comfortable on
Speaker 1: this cool evening, just enough to melt wax when needed,
Speaker 1: just enough to create the right atmosphere for work. The
Speaker 1: scent is the first thing everyone notices when they enter
Speaker 1: this space, the signature of this place, the essence of
Speaker 1: the candle maker's art, the thing that makes people stop
Speaker 1: in the doorway and breathe deeply in smile. Bees wax.
Speaker 1: That's the foundation. That's sweet, honeylike scent that's warm and
Speaker 1: natural and ancient, the smell of the hive, the smell
Speaker 1: of thousands of bees working all summer long, making wax
Speaker 1: sell by s building comb storing honey. Now that wax
Speaker 1: has been melted down and refined, strained and purified, ready
Speaker 1: to become light. Bees wax smells different from paraffin, from soy,
Speaker 1: from all the modern alternatives. It smells alive, organic, real.
Speaker 1: It smells like sunshine stored in solid form, like summer
Speaker 1: afternoons when bees work. The lavender like the inside of
Speaker 1: a wooden hive, warmed by the sun and beneath the
Speaker 1: bees wax layered and complex. Other scents, the essential oils
Speaker 1: and herbs you use to scent your candles. Lavender is
Speaker 1: strongest right now, sweet and floral and calming. You made
Speaker 1: lavender candles yesterday, and the scent still lingers in the air,
Speaker 1: in the wooden beams, in the very walls of the workshop.
Speaker 1: But there are others too, Vanilla, warm and sweet like
Speaker 1: baking rose, delicate and romantic, cinnamon, spicy and warming, sage,
Speaker 1: clean and herbal. Each scent a memory, each scent a mood,
Speaker 1: each scent chosen carefully for the candles it will inhabit.
Speaker 1: The workshop itself is not large, but it's perfectly organized.
Speaker 1: It has to be. Efficiency matters when you're working with
Speaker 1: your hands, creating things from raw materials, transforming elements into
Speaker 1: finished goods. Every tool has its place, Every ingredient has
Speaker 1: its spot. Years of work have taught you exactly where
Speaker 1: each thing should live, where your hand can find it
Speaker 1: without thinking, where everything flows in the nat natural order
Speaker 1: of the work. The walls are whitewashed plaster, thick and old,
Speaker 1: the kind of walls that were built when this building
Speaker 1: was new more than a hundred years ago, clean and
Speaker 1: bright in the lamplight, reflecting the golden glow making the
Speaker 1: workshop feel larger than it is, making the light go
Speaker 1: further along the walls. Wooden shelves hold your supplies. These
Speaker 1: shelves are old, too, dark, with age worn smooth by use.
Speaker 1: Each shelf holds specific things. On the top shelf, blocks
Speaker 1: of beeswax, Each block wrapped carefully in clean muslin cloth
Speaker 1: to protect it from dust, from moisture, from anything that
Speaker 1: might compromise its purity. The blocks are substantial, heavy. Each
Speaker 1: one represents the work of the thousands of bees, tens
Speaker 1: of thousands of trips from hive to flour and back again.
Speaker 1: Below that, bottles of essential oils glass bottles, mostly brown
Speaker 1: or dark blue, to protect the oils from light, which
Speaker 1: can degrade them over time. Each bottle is labeled in
Speaker 1: your own handwriting lavender, rose, peppermint, eucalyptus, lemon, cinnamon, clove.
Speaker 1: Each one opened carefully when needed, sealed tightly after use.
Speaker 1: Essential oils are precious, expensive, potent. A little goes a
Speaker 1: very long way. Another shelf holds stride herbs. Some you
Speaker 1: use directly in candles, embedding them in wax for decoration
Speaker 1: and scent. Others you infuse in oil before adding to
Speaker 1: the wax. Lavender sprigs, their purple color faded, but their
Speaker 1: scent still present. Rose petals dried to brittleness, but still beautiful,
Speaker 1: camomeale flowers, sage leaves, each gathered at the right time,
Speaker 1: dried properly, stored carefully on a lower shelf. Spools of
Speaker 1: wick cotton wick in different thicknesses for different sizes of candles,
Speaker 1: thin wick for motives, medium for tapers, thick for large
Speaker 1: pillar candles. Each spool white and waiting, holding hundreds of
Speaker 1: feet of potential.
Speaker 2: Light.
Speaker 1: And molds. Tin molds old and dented, but still perfectly functional,
Speaker 1: Ceramic molds for special shapes, Silicone molds for more detailed work,
Speaker 1: Each mold clean and ready, each one of form waiting
Speaker 1: to be filled, a shape waiting to be given substance.
Speaker 1: Your work bench dominates the center of the room. It's
Speaker 1: the heart of the workshop, the place where everything happens.
Speaker 1: The bench is a long, solid table made of dark
Speaker 1: wood oak, probably, though it's so old and worn that
Speaker 1: it's hard to tell for certain. The surface is scarred
Speaker 1: and marked by years of use. Knife marks where you've
Speaker 1: cut wax, burns from the occasional accident with hot wax
Speaker 1: or flame. Small divets and scratches that tell stories you've forgotten.
Speaker 1: And wax everywhere on the bench, tiny spots and drips
Speaker 1: of hardened wax. Most you've scraped off over the years,
Speaker 1: but some remain. Some are embedded so deeply in the
Speaker 1: grain of the wood that they've become part of it,
Speaker 1: part of the bench's character, part of its history. Are
Speaker 1: different colors. Most are the pale gold of bees wax,
Speaker 1: but here and there you can see spots of darker wax.
Speaker 1: That was when you experimented with adding color with creating
Speaker 1: tinted candles. It didn't work well with bees wax, which
Speaker 1: resists dye, but you tried, and the evidence remains on
Speaker 1: the bench.
Speaker 2: Now.
Speaker 1: Your tools weight, each one placed exactly where you left
Speaker 1: it this morning when you finished yesterday's work. A large
Speaker 1: copper pot for melting wax. The copper is old, darkened
Speaker 1: with age and use, but still beautiful. Copper conducts heat evenly,
Speaker 1: which is crucial for working with wax. Too much heat
Speaker 1: in one spot can scorch the wax, ruin it, even
Speaker 1: cause it to smoke or catch fire, but copper distributes
Speaker 1: the heat gently, evenly, safely. A smaller pot that sits
Speaker 1: inside a larger water filled pot to create a double boiler.
Speaker 1: The safest way to melt wax indirect heat through water,
Speaker 1: gentle and controlled, the way wax makers have done it
Speaker 1: for centuries, because it works, because it's right. Wooden spoons
Speaker 1: for stirring. Long handled spoons, their wood darkened and smoothed
Speaker 1: by years of stirring hot wax. The wood has absorbed
Speaker 1: wax over time, becoming slightly waterproof, slightly golden, slightly fragrant.
Speaker 1: These spoons are only for wax only for this work.
Speaker 1: They're dedicated, sacred in a way. A candy thermometer for
Speaker 1: checking the temperature of the wax wax has an ideal
Speaker 1: pouring temper. Too hot and it can warp molds or
Speaker 1: create rough surfaces. Too cool and it won't flow properly,
Speaker 1: won't fill molds completely, won't coat wix evenly. The thermometer
Speaker 1: tells you when it's just right. Pouring pictures with spouts
Speaker 1: for transferring melted wax from pot to mold. Metal pictures
Speaker 1: dented and worn, but clean and ready. Wickholders small metal
Speaker 1: clips that keep wicks centered in molds while wax is poured.
Speaker 1: Simple tools, but essential without them, wicks drift to the side,
Speaker 1: creating candles that burn unevenly, that tunnel that fail. Everything clean,
Speaker 1: Everything prepared for tonight's work. Everything ready because you prepared
Speaker 1: it earlier, because you always leave the workshop ready for
Speaker 1: the next session. Because that's how you were taught, and
Speaker 1: it's how you teach yourself every day, to respect the
Speaker 1: work and the work space. Along the back wall more shelves.
Speaker 1: These hold the finished candles, your daily production, the output
Speaker 1: of your craft, the reason this workshop exists. Tapers and
Speaker 1: pears tied together with string, standing in rows like soldiers
Speaker 1: at attention. White and cream and the natural pale gold
Speaker 1: of pure bees wax, pillars of various heights, short fat
Speaker 1: ones for tables, tall slender ones for mantlepieces, each one
Speaker 1: smooth and perfect, made in molds, turned out carefully finished
Speaker 1: by hand. Small votives in cups, tea lights, and metal containers.
Speaker 1: Specialty candles in unusual shapes, a bee, a flower, a
Speaker 1: simple cross, each one made by your hands, Each one
Speaker 1: the result of hours of work gathering materials, preparing, melting,
Speaker 1: pouring or dipping, waiting for cooling, trimming, finishing, Each candle
Speaker 1: representing knowledge and skill and care. Each one, ready to
Speaker 1: bring light to someone's home, ready to fulfill its purpose.
Speaker 1: The floor is wide, pine boards old and darkened with age.
Speaker 1: The boards are uneven, worn down in pathways where you walk,
Speaker 1: most often from door to work bench, from workbench to fireplace,
Speaker 1: from fireplace to shelves. Your feet have worn these paths
Speaker 1: over years of walking the same roots, following the same patterns,
Speaker 1: doing the same work in the same ways. Here and
Speaker 1: there on the floor spots of hardened wax mark where
Speaker 1: spills have occurred over the years, small accidents inevitable when
Speaker 1: working with liquid wax. A pot tipped too far, a
Speaker 1: pore that missed, the mold, drips that fell while carrying candles.
Speaker 1: You tried to clean these spots when they were fresh,
Speaker 1: but wax has a way of settling into wood grain,
Speaker 1: of becoming part of the floor. So now they remain
Speaker 1: small sculptures, tiny monuments to mistakes and accidents, part of
Speaker 1: the workshop's history, part of its character. Proof that work
Speaker 1: happens here, that creation is sometimes messy, that perfection isn't required.
Speaker 1: Only care, only effort, only the willingness to try. You
Speaker 1: move through the space, slowly, comfortably. This is your domain,
Speaker 1: your place of creation your refuge. You light the oil
Speaker 1: lamps first. There are three of them, one on the
Speaker 1: work bench, one on a shelf, one hanging from a
Speaker 1: beam near the fireplace. You lift the glass chimney from
Speaker 1: the first lamp, strike a match. The sulfur flares, then
Speaker 1: settles into steady flame. You touch it to the wick.
Speaker 1: The wick catches, the flame grows steady, golden, beautiful. You
Speaker 1: replace the chimney. The flame steadies protected, now glowing warmly.
Speaker 1: You light the other lamps the same way, each one
Speaker 1: adding its light to the room, each one pushing back
Speaker 1: the darkness a bit more. The workshop is bright, now warm,
Speaker 1: ready for work. You're making candles tonight, bees wax tapers,
Speaker 1: long elegant candles that will burn slowly and clean, the
Speaker 1: kind that have been made the same way for centuries,
Speaker 1: the kind that never go out of fashion because they're
Speaker 1: simply right. And you're going to scent them with lavender,
Speaker 1: calming lavender, the scent of peace and rest and gentle
Speaker 1: summer evenings. You begin by preparing the wax. You take
Speaker 1: a block of beeswax from the shelf. It's wrapped in
Speaker 1: cloth to keep it clean. You unwrap it carefully folding
Speaker 1: the cloth and setting it aside.
Speaker 2: The wax is.
Speaker 1: Pale gold, the color of honey in sunlight. The surface
Speaker 1: is slightly rough, showing the texture of the mold it
Speaker 1: was formed in. It's heavy, solid, cool to the touch.
Speaker 1: You can already smell it, even unmelted. That sweet, warm scent,
Speaker 1: the scent of summer stored in solid form, the scent
Speaker 1: of bees and flowers and sunshine. You need to melt it,
Speaker 1: transform it from solid to liquid so it can be worked,
Speaker 1: so it can be poured, so it can become candles.
Speaker 1: You have a system for this, a method perfected over
Speaker 1: years on the work bench. Sits your large copper pot.
Speaker 1: Copper because it conducts heat, even because it's been used
Speaker 1: for centuries for this exact purpose, because it's beautiful and functional.
Speaker 1: At once, you fill a larger pot with water from
Speaker 1: the bucket by the sink, place it on a trivet
Speaker 1: near the fire. This will be your double boiler. Gentle
Speaker 1: heat indirect the way wax likes to be melted. Rushing it,
Speaker 1: heating it too fast can ruin it, can make it
Speaker 1: smoke or even catch fire. But gentle heat, patient heat
Speaker 1: transforms it perfectly. You break the block of bees wax
Speaker 1: into smaller pieces. It's hard, so this takes effort. You
Speaker 1: use a special knife, heavy and sharp. You press down
Speaker 1: and the wax splits along natural lines. Chunk by chunk.
Speaker 1: You break it down. Each piece goes into the copper pot.
Speaker 1: The pile grows golden chunks, filling the pot. You place
Speaker 1: the copper pot into the water bath. The water pot
Speaker 1: sits close to the fire, but not too close, just
Speaker 1: close enough that the water will heat, will steam will
Speaker 1: gently patiently melt the wax. Now you wait. But waiting
Speaker 1: in candle making is never idle. There's always something to prepare,
Speaker 1: something to ready. You prepare the wicks while the wax melts.
Speaker 2: The wick is crucial.
Speaker 1: It's what carries the flame, what transforms the wax from
Speaker 1: solid to liquid to light. A good wick burns steadily,
Speaker 1: neither too fast nor too slow. It keeps the flame
Speaker 1: the right size. It makes the candle last. You use
Speaker 1: cotton wick, the traditional kind, not coated, not treated, just
Speaker 1: pure cotton twisted into a cord. You buy it on
Speaker 1: spools and you cut it to length as needed. For
Speaker 1: tapers you need long wicks. You measure one against your
Speaker 1: arm from fingertip to shoulder. That's about right. You cut several,
Speaker 1: laying them out on the bench, straight white lines. Ready,
Speaker 1: you check the wax. The chunks are beginning to soften
Speaker 1: at the edges, small amounts of liquid forming around them.
Speaker 1: It's working, it's beginning. While it melts, you prepare the
Speaker 1: lavender oil. The bottle is small brown glass to protect
Speaker 1: the oil from light. A handwritten label, Lavender Summer Garden.
Speaker 1: You grew this lavender yourself in the small garden behind
Speaker 1: the workshop, planted it years ago, tended it through seasons,
Speaker 1: harvested it last summer when it was in full bloom.
Speaker 1: Distilled the oil yourself slowly, carefully, capturing the essence of
Speaker 1: those purple flowers. The oil is precious, concentrated, powerful. A
Speaker 1: little goes a long way. You set the bottle on
Speaker 1: the workbench, ready, waiting for the right moment. The wax
Speaker 1: is melting now you can see it, the solid chunks
Speaker 1: becoming smaller as liquid gold pools around them, the level
Speaker 1: of liquid rising in the copper pot, the transformation happening,
Speaker 1: solid becoming fluid, Potential becoming possible. You stir it gently
Speaker 1: with a wooden spoon, a long handled spoon, darkened by use,
Speaker 1: smooth and warm in your hand. The motion is slow, circular, meditative,
Speaker 1: helping the heat distribute evenly, helping the wax melt uniformly.
Speaker 1: The chunks grow smaller, the liquid grows deeper, gold and moving,
Speaker 1: catching the light beautiful even in this intermediate state. Finally,
Speaker 1: the last solid piece melts. The pot is full of liquid, wax, pure, golden, perfect.
Speaker 1: You check the temperature with your thermometer, not too hot,
Speaker 1: just right. Ready, Now the scent. You open the bottle
Speaker 1: of lavender oil. The scent blue ms immediately, strong, sweet, floral,
Speaker 1: the essence of summer, the essence of peace. You add
Speaker 1: drops to the melted wax one two, three, four, five,
Speaker 1: counting carefully, just enough to scent the candles without overwhelming them,
Speaker 1: just enough that when they burn, they'll release the fragrance
Speaker 1: gently into the air. You stir the oil into the wax, slowly, thoroughly,
Speaker 1: watching the oil disperse, disappear into the gold, become one
Speaker 1: with it. The workshop fills with the combined scent, now
Speaker 1: bees wax and lavender, sweet and floral, warm and calming.
Speaker 1: The smell of the candles. These will become the smell
Speaker 1: of comfort. And peace and gentle light. You're ready to
Speaker 1: make the candles. Now, ready to transform this scented liquid
Speaker 1: wax into something beautiful and useful. You're making dipped tapers tonight,
Speaker 1: the old way, the traditional way, the way that's been
Speaker 1: done for hundreds of years, the way that produces the
Speaker 1: most beautiful candles. Dipped tapers are made by repeatedly dipping
Speaker 1: wicks into melted wax. Each dip adds a thin layer. Gradually, slowly, patiently,
Speaker 1: the candle builds, grows, becomes. It's slow work, very slow work,
Speaker 1: patient work, work that cannot be rushed, work that teaches
Speaker 1: patience just by doing it. But that's what makes it meditative.
Speaker 1: That's what makes it perfect for evening, for this quiet
Speaker 1: time when the world rests, and you create, for this
Speaker 1: transition between day and night, when things slow down, when
Speaker 1: urgency fades, when there's space for work that takes time.
Speaker 1: You take your wick rod from its place hanging on
Speaker 1: the wall. It's a long wooden dowel. Smooth and worn.
Speaker 1: Notches are cut into it at regular intervals along its length.
Speaker 1: Each notch will hold a wick. The rod is old,
Speaker 1: darkened by years of use, marked here and there with
Speaker 1: drips of wax from wicks that weren't quite ready that
Speaker 1: we're still too wet when you hung them. You drape
Speaker 1: the wicks over it, one in each notch, spacing them evenly.
Speaker 1: The wicks hang down on both sides of the rod
Speaker 1: like fringe. Each wick is weighted at the bottom with
Speaker 1: a small heck's nut tied to the end. The way
Speaker 1: it keeps the wick hangings soap straight, keeps it from curling,
Speaker 1: keeps it properly positioned for dipping. Eight wicks, four on
Speaker 1: each side of the rod. Sixteen candles will be made
Speaker 1: tonight because each wick will become two candles, one on
Speaker 1: each end. The wick rod spans across the workbench, now
Speaker 1: supported on wooden blocks at each end that you've placed
Speaker 1: there for this purpose. The wicks hang down, white and waiting,
Speaker 1: ready to become candles, Ready to be transformed. You lift
Speaker 1: the copper pot carefully. It's heavy with liquid wax hot.
Speaker 1: The wax moves sluggishly, thickly, its viscosity changed by the heat.
Speaker 1: You hold the pot's steady with both hands, feeling the
Speaker 1: weight of it, the warmth radiating from the copper into
Speaker 1: your palms, and you begin the ancient process, the ritual,
Speaker 1: the meditation. The first dip, you lower the wicks into
Speaker 1: the wax, slowly, carefully, watching them sink into the gold,
Speaker 1: all the way to the bottom of the pot, submerging completely.
Speaker 1: The wax swallows them. For a moment, you can't see
Speaker 1: them at all, just the surface of the wax, slightly
Speaker 1: disturbed by their entry, small ripples spreading outward. Then you
Speaker 1: lift them out slowly, steadily, not too fast which would
Speaker 1: cause the wax to drip off, not too slow, which
Speaker 1: would allow too much wax to accumulate. Just the right speed,
Speaker 1: the speed you've learned through years of practice, the speed
Speaker 1: your muscles remember without your mind having to think about it.
Speaker 1: Wicks emerge from the golden liquid. They're coated, now thin,
Speaker 1: nearly transparent, just the beginning, just the first layer. The
Speaker 1: wax clings to the cotton fibers, coating each thread, beginning
Speaker 1: the transformation from string to candle. You hang the rod
Speaker 1: back on its supports and wait. Step back, let the
Speaker 1: wax cool, let it harden before the next dip. This
Speaker 1: is crucial. If you dip again too soon while the
Speaker 1: wax is still soft, the layers won't build the new
Speaker 1: wax will just melt the old wax, and you'll make
Speaker 1: no progress. The candles won't grow. You have to wait,
Speaker 1: have to let each layer cool and solidify before adding
Speaker 1: the next. So you wait, and in the waiting you observe.
Speaker 1: You can see the wax coating the wicks, see it changing.
Speaker 1: The coating starts out glossy, wet looking, the wax still
Speaker 1: liquid enough to catch and reflect the lamplight. Then as
Speaker 1: it cools, it begins to turn mat loses its shine,
Speaker 1: becomes opaque instead of translucent. You can almost see it
Speaker 1: happening if you watch closely enough, the transformation from liquid
Speaker 1: to solid, the wax molecules slowing down, losing energy, arranging
Speaker 1: themselves into their solid structure. Chemistry, physics, magic, all happening
Speaker 1: right before your eyes. The workshop is quiet during this waiting,
Speaker 1: no sounds except natural sounds, the crackle and pop of
Speaker 1: the fire as a pocket of sap in the wood
Speaker 1: expands an bursts, the occasional hiss from the water bath
Speaker 1: as a drop of condensation falls from the lid into
Speaker 1: the simmering water. Your own breathing, steady and calm, The
Speaker 1: small sounds of the building settling, the village outside, quiet
Speaker 1: for the night. The scent of lavender and beeswax surrounds you,
Speaker 1: fills your lungs with every breath. You've stopped noticing it consciously,
Speaker 1: but it's there, working on you, calming you, centering you
Speaker 1: the aromatherapy of your craft, whether you intended or not.
Speaker 1: The wax has cooled enough now, you can tell by
Speaker 1: looking by the way it's lost its wet shine, by
Speaker 1: the way it's set into a thin, solid coating. Time
Speaker 1: for the second dip. You lift the rod from its supports.
Speaker 1: The wicks hang down, slightly thicker now than they were,
Speaker 1: progress growth becoming. You lower them into the wax again.
Speaker 1: Watch them disappear again into that molten gold. Let them
Speaker 1: submerge and feel the weight of the rod, slightly heavier
Speaker 1: now with the added wax. Lift them out, slow and steady,
Speaker 1: the same motion, the same speed, finding the rhythm. They
Speaker 1: emerge coated again, a little thicker, this time, another layer
Speaker 1: added to the first, the wax building the candles beginning
Speaker 1: to have substance, beginning to be real. You return the
Speaker 1: rod to its supports. Wait again, watch again, Breathe again.
Speaker 1: This is the rhythm of dipping candles. This is the cycle.
Speaker 1: This is the meditation. Dip, lower the wicks into molten gold. Wait,
Speaker 1: let the wax cool and solidify. Dip, add another layer. Wait,
Speaker 1: Watch the transformation, over and over again and again, each
Speaker 1: cycle the same, each cycle building on the last, each
Speaker 1: cycle adding to the whole. There's no rushingness, no short
Speaker 1: cutting it. The wax needs time to cool between dips,
Speaker 1: or the layers won't build properly, or they'll build unevenly,
Speaker 1: or they'll slip off. The candle won't form right, won't
Speaker 1: burn right, won't be right. So you work at the
Speaker 1: pace the wax demands, at the pace the process requires,
Speaker 1: at the pace that's built into the nature of the materials,
Speaker 1: and the work. Patient, steady, present, And something happens as
Speaker 1: you work, something that always happens when you dip candles,
Speaker 1: Something you look forward to, something that's part of why
Speaker 1: you love this particular form of candle making more than
Speaker 1: any other. Your mind begins to quiet, really quiet, truly quiet.
Speaker 1: The rhythm of the work settles you. The repetition, the predictability. Dip, wait, dip, wait.
Speaker 1: It's like a mantra, like a breathing exercise, like a meditation. Itself.
Speaker 1: Your thoughts slow down. The things you were worrying about
Speaker 1: earlier fail aid into the background. The list of things
Speaker 1: you need to do tomorrow becomes less urgent. The conversation
Speaker 1: you had that bothered you loses its power. The anxiety
Speaker 1: about things you can't control releases its grip. Not because
Speaker 1: you're trying to make these things go away, you're not.
Speaker 1: You're just dipping candles, just working, just being present with
Speaker 1: wax and wick and the simple repetitive motion of the craft.
Speaker 1: But the effect is the same, maybe better than trying.
Speaker 1: Maybe this is what meditation really is, not sitting still
Speaker 1: and trying not to think, but moving mindfully, working, patiently,
Speaker 1: engaging fully with a simple task that has its own rhythm,
Speaker 1: its own requirements, its own wisdom. Dip the wicks enter,
Speaker 1: the gold, submerge, emerge, coated, another layer, another small step
Speaker 1: toward completion. Wait, the wax cools, you breathe, the fire crackles.
Speaker 1: The world is simple and good. Dip again, the motions smooth,
Speaker 1: now practiced. Your body knows what to do. Your muscles
Speaker 1: have the memory. Your hands don't need your mind to
Speaker 1: tell them.
Speaker 2: They just know.
Speaker 1: Wait, standing, breathing, being present in this moment, in this workshop,
Speaker 1: in this work, in this life. The candles are growing.
Speaker 1: Now you can really see them becoming. What started as
Speaker 1: thin strings of wax coated over cotton are becoming slender tapers, hands,
Speaker 1: the wax building layer by layer, the form emerging from
Speaker 1: repetition and patience and time. The color is beautiful, that pale,
Speaker 1: warm gold of pure bees wax, not white, not cream,
Speaker 1: but gold. The color of honey held up to sunlight,
Speaker 1: The color of wheat fields in late summer, the color
Speaker 1: of warmth and light and nourishment. Each candle is slightly different.
Speaker 1: That's the beauty of hand dipped tapers. They're not uniform,
Speaker 1: not machine perfect. Each one has its own small variations,
Speaker 1: a slight taper that's a bit more pronounced, a place
Speaker 1: where the wax built up just slightly more, small imperfections
Speaker 1: that are really marks of handwork, of human creation, of individuality.
Speaker 1: You've lost track of how many dips you've done, ten, fifteen, twenty.
Speaker 1: It doesn't matter. You'll know when they're finished. You'll see it,
Speaker 1: feel it. The candles will tell you when they're ready dip.
Speaker 1: The wax is getting lower in the pot. Now you've
Speaker 1: used a.
Speaker 2: Lot of it.
Speaker 1: These sixteen candles are absorbing it, layer by layer, dip
Speaker 1: by dip. You might need to add more wax to
Speaker 1: the pot before you finish, or you might have just enough.
Speaker 2: You'll see.
Speaker 1: Wait, the fire has burned down some, the flames lower,
Speaker 1: the coals glowing red underneath. It's fine. You don't need
Speaker 1: as much heat now. The wax stays liquid in the
Speaker 1: pot without much help, the copper holding the heat, releasing
Speaker 1: it slowly.
Speaker 2: Dip.
Speaker 1: The candles are substantial, now solid, the thickness of your finger,
Speaker 1: maybe a bit more, strong and smooth and beautiful weight.
Speaker 1: Your breathing is very slow, now, very steady, very deep,
Speaker 1: like the rhythm of your work, like the rhythm of
Speaker 1: the wax cooling, like the rhythm of the fire burning.
Speaker 1: Everything synchronized, everything in harmony. The candles are nearly done.
Speaker 1: You can tell they have the right thickness, the right
Speaker 1: weight when you lift the rod, the right presence hanging
Speaker 1: there in the lamplight, golden and lovely and almost complete.
Speaker 1: Three more dips, just three more to bring them to perfection.
Speaker 1: Dip the wicks, sink into the wax one more time,
Speaker 1: emerge gleaming. Wait, almost there, almost finished, almost ready. Dip
Speaker 1: two more layers, the candles perfect and beautiful. Wait one
Speaker 1: more to go, One more dip to complete the work
Speaker 1: of the evening. Dip the final layer, the completion, the
Speaker 1: moment of finishing. You lift the rod for the last time.
Speaker 1: The candles hang there, beautiful and complete. Sixteen perfect tapers,
Speaker 1: eight on each side of the rod, long and slender,
Speaker 1: evenly formed, smooth and straight, the color of honey and sunshine,
Speaker 1: the scent of lavender and summer bees. You set the
Speaker 1: rod on its supports, carefully, gently, with the respect the
Speaker 1: work deserves, with the satisfaction of completion, and you simply
Speaker 1: look at what you've made, stand there and witness it,
Speaker 1: honor it with your attention. Sixteen candles, each one made
Speaker 1: from wax and wick and scent and time and patience
Speaker 1: and care, and the knowledge passed down through generations of
Speaker 1: candle makers who learned the same techniques, the same rhythms,
Speaker 1: the same meditations. Each one will burn for hours. Each
Speaker 1: one will bring light to a home, a room, a table,
Speaker 1: a bedside. Each one will release its gentle lavender scent
Speaker 1: into the air as it burns, will create atmosphere, will
Speaker 1: bring comfort, will serve its purpose. You made these with
Speaker 1: your hands, with your knowledge, with your time, with your care.
Speaker 1: There's deep satisfaction in this, deep and quiet satisfaction, the
Speaker 1: kind that doesn't need to announce itself, the kind that
Speaker 1: just sits in your chest, warm and good and true,
Speaker 1: the satisfaction of making something real, something useful, something beautiful,
Speaker 1: something that matters, even if it's small, even if it's
Speaker 1: just candles, even if no one ever knows how much
Speaker 1: care went into their making. The candles need to cool
Speaker 1: completely before you can trim them, before you can wrap
Speaker 1: them in pairs, before they're ready to leave the workshop,
Speaker 1: So you leave them hanging and turn to clean up.
Speaker 1: You lift the copper pot, now nearly empty of wax.
Speaker 1: A thin coating remains on the bottom and sides. You'll
Speaker 1: let it cool, then scrape it out and save it.
Speaker 1: Nothing is wasted in the candle maker's workshop. You wipe
Speaker 1: down the work bench with a cloth. Small drips of
Speaker 1: wax have fallen here and there. They peel off easily,
Speaker 1: once hardened, small golden flakes that you collect and add
Speaker 1: to the scrap wax container. Even these will be melted again,
Speaker 1: used again. You check the fire. It's burned down to
Speaker 1: coals glowing red in the darkness of the fireplace. You
Speaker 1: don't add more wood. It's late.
Speaker 2: The work is done.
Speaker 1: Let it burn down, let it rest. You move to
Speaker 1: the finished candles hanging on the rod. Touch one gently.
Speaker 1: It's cool. Now solid ready. You untie the weights from
Speaker 1: the bottoms of the wicks. Cut the wicks to the
Speaker 1: proper length at both top and bottom. Trim them so
Speaker 1: they'll light easily, so they'll burn well. You pare them
Speaker 1: up two tapers, tied together at the top, their wicks crossed,
Speaker 1: the traditional way to sell them pears for candlesticks, for
Speaker 1: dinner tables, for evening light. You wrap each pear in
Speaker 1: brown paper, tie them with string. Write on the paper,
Speaker 1: bees wax, lavender, hand dipped sixteen candles, eight pears. Tonight's work.
Speaker 1: You place them on the shelf with the others. Add
Speaker 1: them to the collection. Tomorrow someone will buy them. Take
Speaker 1: them home. Light them. Benefit from the hours you spent
Speaker 1: tonight dipping and waiting, creating light. The workshop is quiet.
Speaker 1: Now the work is done. The candles are made. You
Speaker 1: bank the fire, spreading the coals, ensuring nothing will catch.
Speaker 1: Everything safe for the night. You turn down the oil
Speaker 1: lamps one by one. The workshop grows dimmer, gentler, the
Speaker 1: light softening to just one lamp, just enough to see
Speaker 1: your way out. You look around once more, the workshop
Speaker 1: and lamplight, the shelves full of candles, the tools clean
Speaker 1: and ready for tomorrow, everything in its place, everything right.
Speaker 1: You're tired now, the good, tired of work completed, of
Speaker 1: something made, of time spent well. You take the last lamp,
Speaker 1: walk to the door, look back one more time at
Speaker 1: the workshop. You love, the place where you make light,
Speaker 1: where you practice your craft, where you find peace. Then
Speaker 1: you turn open the door, step out into the night.
Speaker 1: The village street is dark. Most houses are dark too,
Speaker 1: But here and there windows glow, candles burning, perhaps candles
Speaker 1: you made, perhaps candles made by candle makers. Before you
Speaker 1: light against darkness, warmth against cold, comfort against uncertainty. You
Speaker 1: walk home, slowly, the lamp light bobbing ahead of you,
Speaker 1: your feet knowing the way. When you reach your door,
Speaker 1: you enter, set the lamp on the table. The small
Speaker 1: cottage is simple, clean, yours. You're ready for sleep, now,
Speaker 1: truly ready, your body tired from standing from dipping, from
Speaker 1: the gentle, repetitive work, your mind quiet from the meditation
Speaker 1: of craft, from the rhythm of creation. You prepare for bed,
Speaker 1: Simply wash your face and hands. The scent of lavender
Speaker 1: still on your skin, in your hair, part of you.
Speaker 1: Now you slip into bed. The sheets are cool and clean.
Speaker 1: The weight of the quilt settles over you, comforting safe.
Speaker 1: You can still smell the lavender faintly. It's in your clothes,
Speaker 1: in the air, a reminder of the evening's work, a
Speaker 1: reminder of peace and purpose and time well spent. Your
Speaker 1: breathing is slow, deep, steady. Your body is heavy, relaxed,
Speaker 1: ready to rest. Your mind is quiet, calm, at peace.
Speaker 1: Tomorrow there will be more candles to make, more wax
Speaker 1: to melt, more wicks to dip, more light to create.
Speaker 1: But for now, sleep. The work is done. The candles
Speaker 1: are made, the light is preserved in wax, waiting to
Speaker 1: be released when needed. And you you have done your work.
Speaker 1: You have made something, You have created beauty and utility.
Speaker 1: You have practiced your craft with care. Sleep Now rest deeply,
Speaker 1: dream of golden wax and lavender fields and light blooming
Speaker 1: in darkness. The workshop will be there in the morning,
Speaker 1: the wax will be waiting. The work will continue, but
Speaker 1: for now, let go, let sleep come, Let rest take you. You
Speaker 1: are the candlemaker, and tonight you have made light. Sleep well,
Speaker 1: Sleep deeply, sleep peacefully.
Speaker 2: Good nights You can.
Speaker 3: Bu using need to conclusi
Speaker 1: U