The week between Christmas and the New Year has always felt ungoverned. The usual measures of time lose their authority. Calendars still exist, but no one seems to consult them with any conviction. There is less appetite for usefulness, perhaps even a kind of usefulness-induced nausea. For once, things are allowed to remain undone.

I notice it most at home. I linger longer in rooms I usually pass through, particularly my office and the living room. I sit without arranging myself toward the next task, and encourage my kids to do the same. Objects that normally function as background begin to ask for attention. A book left unread. A letter half written, which I actually sit down to finish. A stray plate of butter cookies, which I shall soon finish as well.

It was during one of these pauses that I found myself looking at a painting in my office and thinking about the word museum. It is a word so settled into daily language that its meaning feels self-evident. And yet, when I slowed down enough to consider it, the heart of the word began to open. Muse. The original mouseion was not a place for storage or display. It was a place set aside for the Muses. A space devoted to study, thought, and the sacred work of making.

Only later did museums become places of preservation, spaces organized around what had already been completed. The shift is subtle but consequential. As a society, we have become skilled at protecting finished culture, but far less practiced at making room for the conditions that produce it.

I have spent years thinking about what our homes ask of us, and about a similar absence I feel in many modern museums. Most domestic spaces are designed for management. After all, much of life requires the maintenance of life itself. Far less attention is given to what makes life worth maintaining. That is where otiumsanctum comes in.

I use the term otiumsanctum to describe a place where sacred leisure is protected. It does not have to be an entire room. It can be a corner, a desk, a chair by a window. What matters is that nothing else is allowed to intrude.

Objects play a particular role in such a space. I choose objects that remind and instruct, objects that carry the qualities I wish to cultivate: leisure, beauty, luxury, and history. Books. Wax seals. Luxury not as excess, but as self-love and care. History not as nostalgia, but as continuity.

The ancient Greeks named nine Muses, each responsible for a different domain of human attention:

• Calliope – Muse of epic poetry and eloquence
• Clio – Muse of history
• Euterpe – Muse of music and lyric song
• Thalia – Muse of comedy and pastoral poetry
• Melpomene – Muse of tragedy
• Terpsichore – Muse of dance and embodied movement
• Erato – Muse of love poetry
• Polyhymnia – Muse of sacred song and contemplation
• Urania – Muse of astronomy and celestial order

As you read this list, you may find yourself drawn more strongly to one than the others. If so, what would it look like to create a small muse-um in your own home devoted to that presence? What objects would belong there?

What would it mean to make space for one of them physically? A corner for writing history, even if that history is your own. A chair for listening to music without doing anything else. Maybe even just a candle you light with a prayer?

Perhaps that is the real work of the year ahead. Is about this type of devotion. Making room, once again, for ourselves, the truest muse.

2026 - The Year of the Muse

This sacred letter-writing practice is how I have written my life into being. I offer it now to others who feel ready to do the same. If you would like to step more fully into the life you are dreaming, join me for the Letter of Becoming workshop on January 11 at 11:11 a.m. Pacific.

New Episode - Dicken's Violated Letter

After revisiting A Christmas Carol last week, I found myself drawn back to the private world of Charles Dickens himself. That curiosity led me into his personal correspondence, and to a document known as the Violated Letter.

In this episode of One Sealed Letter, I trace the full history of that letter. Who wrote it. Why it was never meant to be read (or was it?). And what its violation reveals about privacy, power, and the fragile moral authority we often grant to great artists.

The episode unfolds as a story, moving from Dickens’s public mythology into the far more complicated terrain of his private life. It is an episode about letters, yes, but also about boundaries, betrayal, and what happens when a sealed thing is forcibly opened. I also share a personal store from a letter in my own family that should have never been opened. You can listen here.

The Newest Cat - Just 6 Remain

The design was inspired by my tabby, Darwin. Unlike the smaller Kitty Book Penny Pawn, which gestures toward archetype, this engraving renders the cat in high definition. Individual fur, whiskers, and facial structure are precisely articulated, creating what feels like a real cat, not just a symbol.

This larger seal bears the inscription Solis Sui Dominus. While the smaller cat seal carries Solis Sui Domina and speaks to rest, warmth, and leisure, this version is more solemn in character. Dominus was chosen intentionally. The expression carries greater gravity, less intimate and more declarative. It evokes sovereignty not only as comfort, but as responsibility. Authority assumed without spectacle.

The cat governs its own light. This is what I wish for us all in 2026.

Back in Stock

These beauties are back in stock, and ready to ship to you around January 7th, when I return to my studio.

2nd Edition Pre-Order

Fewer than 20 of the first 50 pre-orders are still available for the 2nd Edition Hastings Étui, the "Helix" edition, which has a lovely helix engraved in the handle. You can watch the Instagram Live Session I led all about this special edition and the pennies it includes here.

This edition quite literally rings like a bell once the pennies are added. It’s sturdy, beautiful, and fully compatible with all pennies already made, including those from the First Edition Étui.

Penny One
Three bound keys and an oak tree.
The keys stand for thresholds, stewardship, and inward authority, a reminder that what is meant for you already has a place prepared. The oak speaks to endurance and continuity. Growth that deepens without abandoning its roots.

Penny Two, The Claire Penny
A bee and lily of the valley.
The bee honors steady creation and the transformation of effort into sustenance. Lily of the valley marks renewal and the return of happiness, delicate yet resilient, blooming again after winter.

Penny Three
Words and a messenger.
One side bears the phrase verba mea fiunt, “my words become,” a seal of intention and authorship. The other shows a greyhound carrying a sealed letter, a symbol of fidelity, trust, and the careful delivery of what matters.

Each penny was designed to be lived with, not just collected, marking thresholds, seasons, and the long arc of becoming.

The Kitty Book Pawn

The Kitty Book Pawn is a small Étui piece about beginnings, commitment, and moving forward one square at a time. In chess, the pawn advances without retreat, and through endurance, it’s the only piece that can become something greater. Progress earned slowly, not inherited.

This pawn carries its own penny, marked with two simple symbols: a house cat and a book. Together, they speak to rest and curiosity, independence and learning, and the long work of becoming something meaningful from modest beginnings.

Cat
Inscribed Solis sui domina, “sovereign of herself.” The cat stands for independence, discernment, and chosen stillness. A reminder to rest without apology and act only when it’s truly yours to act.

Book
Inscribed Cogito cresco, “I think, I grow.” The open book represents learning as something living and ongoing, shaped by return, reflection, and time.

The Simone Penny

The Simone Penny is the last penny released in 2025. I will ship all orders placed now around January 7th. Once this penny sells out, it will be discontinued. I hope you love it's magic as I do. 

One More Festive Penny

The November penny feels especially fitting for New Years, carrying peace, joy, and love into the holidays, and perhaps a little champagne as well. 

Heads: Ad Vitas Effusas
A champagne bottle bursts open, cork flying, a small celebration captured in brass. It is a reminder not to live bottled up. Pour yourself freely. Rise. Shimmer. Let your joy spill over. Ad vitas effusas means “toward poured out lives,” a call to stop shrinking and to welcome more beauty, more delight, and more magic into your days.

Tails: J’Apporte La Paix
A peace dove arrives with an olive branch, offering calm in the middle of celebration. It reminds you to return to yourself, to breathe, to soften. J’Apporte La Paix means “I bring peace.” The dove has carried this message for centuries. Light returns. Hope arrives. Peace is possible.

To your inner muse,