why I don’t use scary language (and why I choose to promote what I love instead)

“When you lead with fear, you train the body to stay alert. When you lead with care, you invite regulation.”

“When wellness language relies on threat — it reinforces the idea that safety is scarce and easily lost.”

“I believe regulation comes not from avoiding the world, but from learning how to meet it with discernment and trust.”

There’s a certain kind of language that has become common in the wellness and candle space.

It often sounds urgent.

Sometimes moral.

Almost always alarming.

Words like toxic, dangerous, poisoned, harmful, bad for you are used not only to describe products — but to activate fear, to position safety through opposition, and to create a sense that calm must be earned by avoiding the wrong things.

I don’t speak that way.

And it’s not an accident.

Fear Is a Fast Sales Tool — But a Poor Long-Term Companion

Fear works quickly.

It captures attention.

It creates urgency.

But fear also activates the nervous system — specifically the part of us designed to scan for threat.

When we repeatedly hear language that frames everyday objects as dangerous, we don’t just learn information.

We embody it.

Our shoulders lift.

Our breath shortens.

Our bodies move into vigilance.

This matters to me — not only as the founder of august moon rise, but as someone who has spent decades working in community mental health, watching how subtle, repeated cues shape how people live inside their own bodies.

When calm is framed as something fragile — something that can be “ruined” by the wrong candle, the wrong scent, the wrong choice — the nervous system never fully rests.

That isn’t wellness.

That’s hyper-vigilance with better branding.

I Promote What I Love — Not What I’m Afraid Of

At august moon rise, you’ll notice something intentionally missing.

I don’t lead with what I don’t use.

I don’t dramatize what others are doing wrong.

I don’t frame my work as protection from danger.

Instead, I talk about what I believe in.

I choose materials thoughtfully.

I test for performance, stability, and consistency.

I work within known standards and best practices.

And then I let the product speak for itself.

Not because information doesn’t matter — but because orientation matters more.

When you lead with fear, you train the body to stay alert.

When you lead with care, you invite regulation.

The Nervous System Is Always Listening

Even when we think we’re just “reading copy,” the body is responding.

Language doesn’t live only in the mind.

It lives in muscle tone.

In breath.

In the subtle sense of whether we feel safe or braced.

When wellness language relies on threat — this will harm you, this will disrupt you, this will poison you — it reinforces the idea that safety is scarce and easily lost.

I don’t believe that.

I believe calm is resilient.

I believe steadiness can be cultivated.

I believe regulation comes not from avoiding the world, but from learning how to meet it with discernment and trust.

This is why my language stays grounded, neutral, and spacious.

Clarity Without Alarm

You’ll still find transparency here.

You’ll still find clear information.

You’ll still find care taken seriously.

But you won’t find alarm bells.

I don’t use “clean” as a moral badge.

I don’t suggest that other people’s choices are reckless.

I don’t frame your home as a battlefield.

Instead, I design objects meant to live with you — quietly, consistently, without intrusion.

Well-designed, non-intrusive companions.

A Different Definition of Safety

For me, safety isn’t created by fear-based comparison.

It’s created by:

• Thoughtful design

• Consistent materials

• Transparent practices

• And language that doesn’t disturb the very calm it claims to protect

I trust that customers can be thoughtful adults.

I trust their bodies to be wise.

I trust that peace doesn’t need to be sold through panic.

Choosing a Calmer Way

There is enough noise in the world already.

I choose to make objects — and write language — that do not add to it.

Because ritual should settle the body, not startle it.

Because calm doesn’t need defending — only space.

Because what we repeatedly tell ourselves about danger shapes how safe we ever feel.

And because I would rather promote what I love

than warn you about what I don’t.