Crafting a spirit doll is an intuitive listening practice.

Listening - not with my ears, but with my inner knowing - allows me to connect with the energy of the doll. I’m able to feel into how the doll wants to look (through a process of building up the bones and uncovering the features), and to feel when the doll is complete.

Most of the time, there’s a clear moment when a doll or talisman reaches the end of its creation process. This is particularly true with dolls. The spirit of the doll has a way of letting me know - and I begin the work of “finishing”. Closing energy lines - pouring out - releasing.

Sometimes, the doll asks to wait. It asks to rest for a while longer in the chrysalis, before revealing its final form. I know this when I feel a resistance - and over time, I’ve learned to trust this resistance, setting the doll aside until the time is right, rather than pushing through and forcing completion. (Dollmaking is a micro-lesson in unlearning the patriarchal systems of “power over” - which encourages us to impose our will and desires onto others. Instead, crafting a spirit doll teaches a lesson of co-creation, in which we learn to honor the wisdom of the other, creatively alchemizing the energies into something new. There’s so much more to share on this topic.)

And dolls - like us - are not static beings. They grow and change as we work with them. They may be complete for months or even years, only to return to the crafting table for further transformation. And, like a chrysalis changes a caterpillar into a butterfly, this process of transformation can profoundly shift the energy a doll carries.

The doll in these images - who came into being to help carry my grief - went through this kind of transformation late last year. I never questioned it. It was simply part of her process - part of the work that we were meant to do together. When I initially finished working on her, I intentionally left her soft, her edges raw and imperfect. I could feel that this was right for her. She came into being as a way of processing grief - and grief is messy. Her rawness and frayed edges reflected my own grieving process.

When she was ready to become herself more fully, she let me know. Her message was clear - she needed more movement. Her energy, which had initially felt so right, suddenly felt stuck - as though she was clutching the bones too tightly. She had been born holding the bones, crying over them, honoring them - and then she was ready to release them, to let them move freely with the tides.

She whispered to me about the many ways the ocean can absorb death, create life, and support growth. She told me tales of water, blood, and bone. She spoke of the cycles of life, death, and rebirth reflected in the journey of the salmon returning each year. Her energy had shifted from that of raw grief to grief alongside strength and renewal.

And so I brought her back to my table and worked to bring her further into being. I added red thread to represent blood and to give the salmon bones a sense of moving with the waves. The thread is tied with three sets of three knots. Each knot is a spell - a prayer for remembrance and release. To honor and remember the beauty that surrounds us (even when deep grief is present), I included three Russian trade beads (a beautiful gift from a fellow artist).

I love that her transformation also aged her, as though she’s grown wiser. When she first came through, she represented my grief in its nascent, raw form - rough and painful. Now she’s grown stronger - she still carries grief, but instead of holding on tightly to what she’s lost, she allows it to move freely with the waves. She knows that she is the ocean and she is also the bones. She is the beautiful sea glass, made smooth by the motion of the tides. The grief and the joy are a part of her.

Spirit dolls have a beautiful way of holding a mirror to our own processes so that we can see ourselves more clearly. Always remember to listen.