Finding Joy in Handmade Things in a Fast-Paced World

Why I keep making leis slowly when the world tells me to hurry.

You can order just about anything these days. Cupcakes, a ring light, or a six-foot inflatable pineapple costume, delivered to your door before lunch. Everything is built for speed. Everything is about now.

And to be honest, I love the convenience. I love the ability to get what I need when I need it, and I will 100% DoorDash spam musubi and boba milk tea at midnight. But somewhere between the clicks and deliveries, we’ve lost something sacred.

We’ve lost the pause. The slowness. The tender joy of making something with your hands, simply because you care.

The Power of Handmade

Someone once asked me why my leis cost what they do. I smiled and said what I’ve always known in my heart:

Because I don’t just make leis. I build them with intention. With care. With quiet love that takes time.

Each one begins with a simple foundation, but no two are ever the same. I fold money into flowers. I cut details with steady hands. I test, adjust, restart. I match colors to photos and trust my instincts when something feels off.

You’re not paying for materials, you’re paying for time. For lived experience. For the invisible hours I’ve spent learning what works, what doesn’t, and when to start over. You’re paying for the emotion I weave into every loop and layer.

"You're paying for love in tangible form."

Because handmade things carry heart. They carry patience. And yes, sometimes they carry the smallest imperfections, a human fingerprint. The kind only real hands can leave behind.

A handcrafted lei isn’t just a decoration. It’s a quiet kind of storytelling. A small expression of love, translated through ribbon and color.

And yet, even in this work, I often feel the pull of a world that doesn’t stop moving...

The Quiet Work Behind the Ribbons

Between emails, TikToks, Zoom calls, and to-do list apps, our hands are almost always touching glass. We scroll, swipe, respond, refresh. We click our way through the day, always connected, constantly stimulated.

But when I’m making a lei, I step out of all that. My hands are folding, tying, creating. My mind settles. My heart steadies.

It’s quiet. It’s slow. It’s mine.

It’s meditative, my time to pour out what ails my mind and just let the satin ribbons run through my fingers. The rhythm of weaving and shaping becomes a quiet ritual, a way to unravel stress and reclaim peace. In those moments, the outside world softens, and I reconnect with myself.

Sometimes, MrBallen's "The Strange, Dark, and Mysterious" podcast is telling me a story about someone lost in the woods while I fold a five-dollar bill into a butterfly. But even that, in its odd way, brings focus. Rhythm. A strange comfort in the background while I build something by hand.

Lei-making is my statement to decelerate. It firmly rejects hurried love, transient moments, and anything that seems disposable. I make space, not just for leis, but for meaning. Each one is part aloha, part quiet fire. And I give it my full attention. I hold nothing back. I let it become whatever it needs to be for the person receiving it. Because choosing to care this deeply feels radical. And beautiful. And worth it.

A Moment That Reminds Me Why

There are moments that remind me why I do this work.

Once, I handed a birthday lei to a girl, a teenager, who looked at it like it was made of magic.

Her whole face lit up. She ran to her parents, thanking them, hugging them, crying happy tears. Meanwhile, her parents kept gently pointing her back to me, saying, "No, anak… thank her. She made it."

That moment stuck with me. Because, sure, it was just a lei. But to her? It was joy in its purest form. Made by hand. Made with love. Made just for her.

And I love that. I love that feeling of being there with her, celebrating, even if I’m not on the guest list or will never meet her again. In that moment, something I made with my hands became part of her memory, her milestone, her story.

That’s the real magic of custom leis. It travels further than you know. It celebrates, it comforts, it connects. And if I can be even a small part of someone’s joy, with ribbon, paper, and a little creative madness, then I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. 

Why Handcrafted Still Matters

I love my Prime delivery. I love easy. I love fast.

But I also love what takes time. I love what is made with intention, what carries feeling. I love the things that slow us down and remind us we are seen.

That’s what handcrafted offers us: a soft landing. A gentle reminder that someone made this… for you.

It tells a story. It holds emotion. It carries fingerprints and heartbeats.

In a world full of "add to cart," handcrafted things whisper: “I made this for you.”

So if you’ve ever worn a Sweet Leis Co. creation, thank you.

You’ve chosen stillness.

Meaning.

Story.

You’ve chosen something made one ribbon at a time, with care.❤️