Stitching the Sacred

Fox Spirit

When I create, I do not simply sew. I enter a sacred space — a place where time slows, where the air hums with memory and prayer. The fire crackles, ancient and knowing, as I gather my materials. Each thread, each bead, each scrap of cloth becomes an offering.

I stitch as my grandmothers once stitched , not just to bind fabric, but to weave blessings. My hands remember what my heart has never forgotten: that women have always created in circles of love, tending both cloth and soul. Every pull of the needle is a whisper to the Divine Mother, every knot a promise to honor the women who came before us.

These dolls are not simply made , they are born. They carry the warmth of the fire, the breath of my prayers, the echo of countless women’s hands. They are vessels of connection, holding the threads that tie us to one another, to our ancestors, and to the great, luminous heart of the divine feminine.