Herbal Caress

Wendy suggested that I could cleanse myself with basil.

Suddenly, everything made sense.

In the little shops where I often buy incense, piedra de alumbre and copal, there are always piles of plants, basil, rosemary, and another herb whose name I cannot recall. Next time I go, I will be sure to ask what it’s called.

Lately, I’ve been genuinely happy, not because life is free of negative energy, but because I’ve been finding my way toward balance. As a sensitive person, it seems I’m destined to be this way: my perception of everything is so delicate that joy can reach me easily, and unease can envelop me just as quickly.

Tonight, Juan and I decided to make noodles together. Honestly, almost all the credit goes to him, he watched a YouTube video and patiently kneaded the dough in the living room while I prepared the sauce for You Po Mian.

The truth is, I really don’t like kneading dough.

First of all, I’m not a very patient person, and the sticky dough clinging to my hands drives me crazy. But on the other hand, when I’m working with ceramics or clay, or even when I’m repotting my plants with soil stuck under my nails, I never feel bothered. In those things, I somehow have patience.

As for You Po Mian, it’s a simple yet flavorful Chinese noodle dish where hot oil is poured over chili, garlic, and spices, releasing an irresistible fragrance before being mixed with the handmade noodles. Meanwhile, I also casually put together a salad that was part Georgian, part Armenian, part Lebanese, and a hint of Mexican. It was delicious, our stomachs were truly happy, and somehow that happiness seemed to spill over into everything else between us. Sometimes I think the simple reason for our intimacy is this: our incredibly compatible, beautiful, and loving sex; the comfort and satisfaction of our meals; and our conversations, which are always inspiring and refreshing. Together, these small joys weave the quiet happiness that makes our relationship feel so effortless and alive.

After dinner, we improvised little theatre performances, laughing, shared stories, and nestled together watching a few episodes of a TV show. We looked at each other from time to time, eyes filled with laughter, sparks, and silence. In those glances, we naturally kissed, gently, full of love. Our kisses were slow and tender, love spreading without hurry, intertwining naturally, merging effortlessly.

As our bodies drew closer, every touch became a call and a response.

When he entered me, I closed my eyes and gently kissed his forehead, my body filled with warmth and acceptance. Every movement brought me immense joy; I melted, my body melted, my heart melted, tightness released, stimulation relaxed; arousal and safety coexisted.

We gazed at each other, and I found myself lost in his pupils, beautiful, yet a little vulnerable. As I continued to look, I saw my own reflection in them: my joy, my love, my light. In that instant, I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for having met him in my life.

We are both carrying our own wounds, yet here we are, fortunate to have found each other in the midst of our lives, accompanying one another, growing, healing, and loving together.

Each caress sent tiny shivers through me, a delicate tension building in me. I pressed closer, needing him, wanting every inch of him, warmth, longing.

And then, I couldn't control but scream, my body trembling uncontrollably, waves of orgasm crashing over me again and again.

He followed soon after, a low groan escaping him as his pleasure peaked, his body quivering against mine, surrendering to the waves that mirrored mine. Then he buried himself deeply against my chest.

I felt intimacy, utter intimacy. 

I listened to our breaths still kissing, our heart beats still entwined.

I felt my love for him, my love for myself, my love for the world, surging almost beyond my chest.

For now, I cannot answer the question: what has changed? How can those pains and fears be replaced by such intense loving energy?

Is it simply that the IUD made me unwilling to feel more pain?

Is it just hormones?

Is it because my life is slightly more stable, and that makes me feel safe?

Or is it because Beans are genuinely warm and willing to reflect?

I don’t want to analyze too deeply for now, I just want to record this moment.

I feel hope, happiness, joy, and gratitude.

After this, I felt peaceful and loving. I played ethereal music, for instance, right now, “432 Water Crystals.” I took the large handful of basil I bought at the market today, they still had their roots. I asked my landlord for a pot and planted them in soil. As night fell, I snipped two of the plants and gently rinsed them with water. They were so lush and green, with little buds just about to bloom. After rinsing, I put it into the pot to boil.

At the same time, I lit incense. Besides my usual santal, copal, white sage, and palo santo, today I bought amber for the first time. I lit it, gazed at the small flame, and said, “Hello, fire, thank you, I hope you help me cleanse today’s negative energy, please.” The flame danced and slowly extinguished, smoke rising.

I called Beans over and cleansed him all over, not sparing the soles of his feet; then I cleansed myself. Once finished, I placed the incense where it belonged and softly said to the spirits in the room: “I hope you had a good day. This incense, may you, may we all be safe, calm, and joyful. Good night.”

I let Beans go to sleep first and prepared for my first “herbal shower.”

A small detail: Beans and I are currently using the towel looks exactly the same, which sometimes causes confusion. After he showered just now, he hung the towel by the door, and I thought it was mine. Just as I went to take the basil water into the bathroom, the towel fell on its own. I thought perhaps it was a reminder to use a clean, fresh, my own towel for my face and hair afterwards.

I carefully washed myself, my heart racing slightly for reasons I didn’t understand. I took the softened basil stems and leaves from the pot and gently stroked my skin, feeling the touch of water and plants caressing each other on my body.

Afterward, I turned off the lights, and darkness enveloped me. I scooped the bath water with a glass; its amber hue glowed warmly. I softly said to the water, “Thank you,” then let it flow slowly over me, covering my body. Glass after glass, the water gently cascaded over my skin.

In recent years, I’ve almost entirely switched to natural bath products: rosemary-lavender handmade shampoo bars, avena-coco soap (except for facial skincare). My body has developed its own awareness. I follow Wendy’s guidance, also my own intuition, gently leading myself. I feel safe, I feel calm.

With the last glass of water, I closed my eyes and whispered, “Thank you, nature, universe, each being, for providing us so much. I hope you can guide me closer to my own inner guide, to let my pain and anger feel safe.

May I be happy.

May I be healthy.

May I be safe.

May I live with ease.

May I have the ability to love and be loved.”

At that moment, Wendy came to mind. I felt deeply grateful for having met her, and for the way she introduced me to the concept of self-love and this herbal cleanse. Holding this glass, I continued speaking softly:

“May we be calm. May we be joyful. May we have the capacity to love and be loved. May we be calm. May we be joyful. May we have the capacity to love and be loved.”

I felt this energy like a beam of light passing through the roof, through Oaxaca, through Mexico, through the Earth. I stood in the universe, sensing this light flowing to all beings: “May all beings be calm, may all beings be joyful, may all beings have the capacity to love and be loved. May all beings be calm, may all beings be joyful, may all beings have the capacity to love and be loved.”

This is the loving-kindness practice I learned at Vipassana, now flowing naturally into my consciousness.

After that, I wiped my face with a clean towel, wrapped my hair, and began writing this journal, letting the water droplets on my skin air-dry naturally.

The night is deep, and I slowly prepare to sleep. I can smell the natural scent of my skin, as if nature has left a kiss on my skin, gently marking my soul.

At this moment, the amber scent lingers. I feel a subtle heat in the thumbs and index fingers of both hands; The new little pimples on the back of my left neck seem to long for breath; with enough oxygen and love, they naturally fade away. I feel my heart light, comfortable, and open.

My heart overflows with gratitude, and I truly feel so fortunate.