The Iroko Haus Story
Come closer and let me tell you a story.
An old story…
Perhaps even older than the house itself.
Where the elders tell of an old Iroko tree.
The Iroko tree was thought to be so old that no one could say when it first took root.
The Iroko tree was also so big and tall.
Some spoke of roots so deep they dug down all the way into the center of the earth.
While others spoke of branches so tall they stretched high into the heavens.
Now many people came to the Iroko tree.
Some came looking for rest.
Some came looking for answers.
Some came because it seemed they had lost their way.
And some...
Well...
Some simply found themselves there, though they could never quite explain how.
Among them was one lone traveler.
Now this traveler was not like the others…
But then again, maybe they were.
For whenever this traveler visited the Iroko tree, they would sit and talk with Iroko
As if visiting an old friend.
And when it was time to leave...
They always promised to return.
Again...
and again.
The seasons came and went.
And as promised, the traveler returned…
And with each return, the visit grew longer.
The traveler came to know the Iroko.
And the Iroko had come to know the traveler as well.
Not through mere words for some things are never spoken.
Only lived.
The traveler kept their promise to return
Not because the Iroko called.
And not because the traveler was told to.
The traveler returned because, beneath the branches of that old tree, there was something that could not be found anywhere else.
There was peace.
There was comfort.
But most of all there was belonging.
After many seasons, a thought came to the traveler.
No longer did they want to travel to Iroko.
Instead, they found themselves thinking…
"Maybe I should stay. Maybe I should ask Iroko if I may build my home here."
Now...
That was no small thing to ask.
You see...
It is one thing to visit the Iroko.
But it is another thing altogether to live beside it, under its branches.
The elders understood this well.
Many came.
Many returned.
But few ever asked or had the resolve to remain.
For to live under Iroko meant more than building a house.
It meant building a life.
A life that honored the land.
…that honored the seasons.
…that honored the hands that create and the hearts that receive.
So the traveler asked their question and waited.
They waited not because the Iroko was slow to answer...
But because some answers are not spoken aloud.
They are felt and heard with the heart.
And after a time of stillness...
A gentle breeze moved softly through the branches,
The leaves sweetly whispered their blessings into the air.
While the earth remained steady and firm beneath the traveler's feet.
Nothing seemed different.
Yet everything had changed.
The traveler understood.
The time had come
And the house could now be built.
Now don't go thinking the house was built in a single season.
No...
A house such as this cannot be hurried.
There is a saying the elders speak...
“A house remembers the hands that built it.”
So each stone was placed with care.
Each beam was lifted with intention.
Each doorway was opened with gratitude.
The traveler did not build merely for shelter.
The traveler built for family and community.
They built for love and longevity.
Season after season, it grew.
Not only in size...
But in spirit.
Those who wandered its path felt welcome before ever reaching the door.
Some arrived carrying stories.
Others brought gifts shaped by their own hands.
None were gathered because they were rare.
None remained because they were valuable.
You see...
Nothing in that house was ever meant to be kept forever.
Everything lived there until the day it found the hands it had been waiting for.
And so the house became known.
Not because anyone announced its name...
But because people spoke of how they felt while they were there.
And even now...
listen closely.
You may hear life moving through that house.
A door opening.
A voice offering welcome.
Someone arriving with a story.
Someone leaving with something they did not know they needed.
Now, The elders say the house was never finished.
For a house with purpose keeps growing.
And a house built beside the Iroko...
Well...
its doors do not close so easily.
The Story Behind The Story
What inspired the Story of Iroko Haus?
I usually smile before answering.
Of course, there has never been a single tree that I returned to year after year.
Yet there has always been an Iroko.
For me, the Iroko has never been defined by a place. It is a space of creation that flows from the Divine—a place where inspiration, wisdom, service, and presence meet. Although I experience it through ordinary moments in the physical world, its roots have always reached much deeper than anything I could point to on a map.
Throughout my life, I found myself returning to that space again and again.
Sometimes through meditation, Reiki, yoga and sound.
Sometimes with copper in my hands, shaping jewelry one careful movement at a time.
Each practice became another path leading back to the same place.
As the years passed, those paths took many forms. They became Creation's Best, 3 Corners Metaphysical Shop, Anai Goddess Spa & Institute, NaOri Healing Arts, and eventually Iroko Haus. Looking back, I no longer see them as separate ventures. I see them as seasons of the same journey.
Each season taught me something.
Each season shaped me.
Each season prepared another beam, another stone, another doorway for the house that would one day be built.
There came a point when I realized I no longer wanted to simply visit that place of creation.
I wanted to live from it.
That is why, in the story, the traveler asks permission to build under the Iroko.
To me, that moment has never been about receiving permission from a tree.
It is about reaching a place of resonance.
A place where my life, my work, and my purpose could finally become one.
Building the house did not mark the end of the journey.
It marked the beginning of a deeper one.
It is one thing to visit a way of life.
And it is another to build your life around it.
That house continues to teach me every day.
It has taught me that a home is cultivated long before it is occupied.
That a culture is shaped one decision at a time.
That every object carries the spirit with which it was made, chosen, and shared.
This is why I do not think of Iroko Haus as simply a business.
It is the home from which I live my mission.
The jewelry, the vessels, the healing arts, the gatherings, and every other offering are not the mission themselves. They are the tools I carry as I walk it.
Like the traveler in the story, I am still learning.
The house is still becoming.
Its doors do not close so easily.
And perhaps that is the truest part of the story after all.
Because I have come to believe that Iroko was never a destination.
It has always been an experience.