| THE EPISTOLARIAN |

Wax seals are not just beautiful—they are portals. To memory. To meaning. To a quieter, slower kind of knowing.

When people ask why I love them, I usually begin with the expected: beauty, symbolism, history. It’s like describing someone you love by listing their credentials. The facts may be true, but not the more important truth. The real reason is simpler, and harder to articulate: I love seals for their magic.

It’s a quiet magic, the kind that slips between the cracks of memory and ritual.

One of my earliest memories of chasing magic comes from third grade, just after a cruise through the Caribbean and Mexico with my sister and our grandmother, Neenie. Neenie, who taught me to write letters by hand, believed luxury wasn’t about wealth—it was about the intentional enjoyment of life. She signed a slip of shipboard paperwork that allowed my sister and me to roam freely, unchaperoned. While other children had a minus sign next to their names—meaning they needed an adult—we had a tiny “+.” It meant total freedom.

We made the most of it—pool-hopping by day, always ending up at the ship’s ice cream bar: a Baskin-Robbins-style wonderland with endless toppings and zero limits. It was “free,” which is to say included in the price of the cruise—but to my third-grade brain, it felt like I was getting away with something.

I built it from gymnastics mats, blankets, a radio dial, and a glittering assortment of elementary-school jewelry. Crystals were arranged carefully, long before they became fashionable. I rigged a radio dial to operate the controls. My sister, generous as ever, played along, helping me select the precise moment we’d return to. She sat quietly as I turned the knobs and whispered our coordinates. The time machine didn’t work. Its failure was, to me, a quiet heartbreak. But my sister didn’t say, “I told you so.” She simply stayed with me in that tender place where wonder meets disappointment. The machine may have failed, but my belief in magic did not.

We live in a world that demands evidence. Meaning must be measured; the unseen translated into data. But humans have always made room for what can’t be quantified—for ritual, intuition, awe. Wax seals remind me of that. They were never merely functional. In many cultures, seals were used to bless, to protect, to invoke. They were small thresholds between the mundane and the sacred.

To some, seals are obsolete—curious relics from a slower age. But that’s precisely the point. In their impracticality, they become essential. They ask us to pause. To mean what we write. They slow us down just long enough to feel something.

This week on my podcast, One Sealed Letter, I spoke with Michael Norton, author of The Ritual Effect, about how rituals make meaning. Pressing a seal is a ritual. It takes time. It slows time. When I am grieving, restless, or reaching for clarity, I find myself drawn to the wax. I melt it. I pour it. I wait. That waiting becomes its own kind of stillness—something not sentimental, but elemental: meditation in motion.

There is a kind of knowing that only reveals itself when we allow space for mystery. Seals are vessels for that knowing. They are not religious objects, but they are reverent. They ask us to mark the moment. To remember what we already know, deep in the marrow.

That’s the magic I return to, again and again. Not a machine to take me back, but a ritual that lets me stay.

Seal of the Week: J’attends le printemps – I wait for spring

This week’s seal carries a quiet message: “J’attends le printemps,” or “I wait for spring.” A lone cricket lies still at the center—unmoving, unhurried, at ease in the in-between.

In folklore, the cricket is a creature of patience and presence. A symbol not of action, but of attentiveness—of trusting the rhythms we can’t control. It’s not a seal of arrival, but of faith in what is forming beneath the surface.

Color of the Week: Turks & Caicos

A sealing wax inspired by the turquoise waters of the Caribbean islands, known for their serene beauty and tranquil vibes. The turquoise color of this wax symbolizes joy, rest, retreat, and travel - perfect for those who seek a touch of the island life in their daily correspondence.

A couple Seals

This week, I pressed these two seals, which I usually use around the holidays. Pressing them in lighter colors feels so refreshing and pretty for spring.

Antique Resources

If you're curious about the world of antique wax seals—or already deep in the thrill of collecting—I offer a wonderful free course designed to introduce you to their rich history, symbolism, and artistry. It’s a perfect place to begin or to deepen your appreciation for these small but mighty relics. I’ve also created a comprehensive guide to antique seals that walks you through how to identify authentic pieces, avoid common pitfalls, and even save a great deal of money when purchasing. Whether you're seeking heirlooms or simply following your curiosity, both resources are crafted to help you collect with confidence and delight.