The Ritual

Not every ritual requires candles, incense, crystals or a naked person tied up on the floor inside a pentagram.

The sound of water hitting white porcelain. It drones out every other sound. Bathing essence paints dark swirls in elaborate patterns into the turbulent waters, before everything turns blue and the scent of lavender and lemon balm fills the room. The water is just at the right temperature – not scalding, but hot enough to be comfortable for a long while. I sink into it, its warmth instantly stripping away everything troubling, bothersome or mundane. This is my moment of peace.

My head gets quiet, my body gets warm. The sound of the fan drones out any outside noise. My bathroom turns into a space outside of time. It doesn’t matter anymore, what weekday it is, or what tomorrow holds in store. What has been, has already washed away into the water. Sometimes, I allow my thoughts to wander, but mostly I try to focus on my breathing and meditate while in there.

Photo by Tim Goedhart on Unsplash

It doesn’t always work. Some nights, the thoughts are restless. I don’t stress it, things are as they are. Instead, I distract myself with a face mask, or a peeling or another superficial wellness gadget, and still feel good when I climb out of the tub. It did start out as getting clean after all, and only transformed into a ritual of relaxation and meditation over time.

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