The Priestess Who Bathes 🌺

A ritual for the woman who has forgotten she is holy

This piece was born from Where Women Go to Soften.
If you haven’t read it, begin there. ✨

The bath is not an indulgence.
It is the oldest altar.

A candle, lit for pleasure because something in you
still knows
how to make a thing sacred.

The water doesn’t ask what you’ve done.
It doesn’t weigh what you carry
or measure what you’ve given away.

It simply, receives you.

This is the part they forgot to tell us,
that the body was never the problem.
That warmth on skin is a form of prayer.
That slowing down in your own flesh
is not laziness.

It is devotion.

There is a Priestess in you
who has been waiting
at the edge of the water.

She is not waiting to be pure.
She is not waiting to be chosen.

She is waiting for you
to remember who you are.

So, you enter.

Not to cleanse yourself of sin,
but to remember that you were never dirty.

To enter without an agenda,
without performance, without witness,
without apology.
To enter and let the heat loosen
what the mind has tightened.
To let the steam soften what the world
has hardened.

The Priestess who bathes
understands that water is older than doctrine.
Older than shame. Older than the laws that told women
where holiness was allowed to live.

She knows the body is the doorway.

She bathes the way women once did
before the body became something to manage,
before pleasure was made exile,
before a woman’s wholeness was split into
what was acceptable and what had to be hidden.

She bathes to cross a threshold.

Warmth moving through her slowly.
Stillness steadying her breath.
Time loosening its grip.
Her nervous system remembers what safety feels like.

Her pleasure is sovereign. ❤️‍🔥
Her presence is enough.

When she rises from the bath
she does not emerge new
she emerges intact.

Herself.

Nothing has been taken.
Nothing has been proved.
Nothing has been performed.

Only remembered.

She walks back into her life carrying the quiet authority of a woman who knows that devotion can look like rest, that holiness can feel like warmth settling into skin, that the sacred sometimes sounds like breath meeting steam meeting silence meeting depth.

This is the Priestess who bathes.

She does not ask permission. She does not explain herself. She does not split herself from herself.

She returns, again and again
to water that holds the shape of
every woman who came before her.
Every woman who has yet to remember.
Every woman who is her.
Every woman who is finding her way back to,
her.

and let the world experience you,
just as you are.

A Sister in spirit 🌹✨

ℒ𝒾𝓈𝒶

𝒢ℴ𝒹𝒹ℯ𝓈𝓈 ℒ𝒶𝓀𝓈𝒽𝓊𝓃𝓂ℯ𝓉 🪷

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