Fill the bath at dusk, when the day loosens its grip and the water still remembers warmth. Scatter blue flowers across the surface and let them turn slowly, like small boats with nowhere to be.
This working does not pour your weight away with grey water; it gives the weight to a stone, which is patient and does not mind the carrying. You go down heavy and rise unburdened, and the stone stays behind to hold what you could not. Water only ever asks that you let go of your grip.
The Working
- At dusk, run a bath as warm as you can bear and scatter it with dried cornflower and a single drop of oil pressed to the water’s skin.
- Choose a smooth river stone that fits the hollow of your palm, and hold it against your breastbone as you step in.
- Sink slowly until the water reaches your collarbones, and let the flowers gather at your throat.
- Breathe into the stone whatever sits heaviest, pressing it to your chest until the stone grows warm as your own blood.
- When you are ready, set the stone on the rim of the bath and take your hands from it deliberately, as one lets go of a rope.
- Rise, let the water run from you unregarded, and do not touch the stone again; carry it out at arm’s length and leave it where running water can reach it.
The Incantation
Blue flower on the quiet water,
take the warmth and take the weight.
Stone against my beating heart,
hold what I can hold no longer.
I rise, I rise, and leave you full,
and go from here unweighted.
The water goes still behind you and the stone keeps its promise. What it holds is no longer yours, and the door of the evening closes soft.