Moon bark ~ Summer wintering moments + a celestial recipe for inner nourishment

I’m still reveling in the quiet moments of wintering I’m finding in the summer heat—a coolness born from slowness, shade, and soft, cool colors rather than artificial air conditioning.

There’s something deeply nurturing about a summer afternoon nap: a sensual laziness that lulls the body into the embrace of golden hour. It’s a heavy, honeyed slowness, accentuated by the crisp texture of freshly washed linens, cooling aromatherapy (rosemary, mint, eucalyptus, and lavender), and the lithe softness the body holds after a beach day and a cool shower.

I’d love to share with you a delicious recipe I spontaneously created on a day I craved something sweet but had to make do with what was in my pantry. It pairs beautifully with this kind of summer wintering.

Moon bark on a plate by Caterina Roma.

Moon Bark

A celestial bark for inner nourishment

Crafted under the light of intuition, Moon Bark is a soft, melt-in-your-mouth alchemy—like a cross between sacred fudge and petal-thin ritual chocolate. Rich with cocoa butter, oat, and the floral whisper of cardamom, it's laced with the feminine beauty of lavender and the earthiness of black sesame. A bark for soul-feeding, womb-healing, and quiet evenings.

✧ Ingredients

• ½ cup cocoa butter (chopped or in discs)

• 2 tbsp coconut butter (optional, for extra softness and body)

• 2–3 tbsp agave syrup, or to taste (or sub with maple)

• ⅓ cup finely ground oats (rolled oats blitzed into a soft flour)

• ¼ tsp ground cardamom, or more to your liking

• A pinch of sea salt

To decorate:

• Dried lavender buds

• Black sesame seeds

✧ Instructions

1. Melt the base: In a double boiler (or a heatproof bowl over simmering water), gently melt the cocoa butter and coconut butter together until fully liquefied. Remove from heat.

2. Sweeten & infuse: Stir in the agave syrup, cardamom, and sea salt. Whisk well until glossy and slightly thickened.

3. Ground & ground: Add the finely ground oats and stir until the mixture becomes creamy, like a soft, warm fudge.

4. Spread your moon: Pour the mixture onto a sheet of parchment paper and spread it very thinly—like the sliver of a crescent moon—with the back of a spoon or spatula. Aim for about 2–4 mm thickness, or follow your senses.

5. Bless with beauty: While still warm and soft, sprinkle the surface with dried lavender buds and black sesame seeds. Let them seep in.

6. Chill to set: Place the bark in the fridge (or freezer for faster magic) for 15–30 minutes, or until set and breakable.

7. Break into pieces and store in a sealed container in the fridge. Best enjoyed cool, under the moonlight, or in moments of inner stillness.

Water, bodywork and a recipe

It has been hot here this past week, and I’ve been spending my early mornings hiking to the nearby beaches, and some evenings visiting the local waterfall. Moving the body vigorously in the heat helps me synchronize with it, rather than be overwhelmed by it. Starting the day with a proper sweat seems to make the rest of the day feel lighter and more manageable.

Lately, I’ve been really loving this deep connection with water. I feel blessed by her support. Saltwater helps me cleanse the body, while living freshwater cleanses the energy field and deeply nourishes the Soul. Pure, uncontaminated sweet water in nature restores my sense of belonging to this Earth—it’s like entering into a profound communion with Her and Her inner wisdom.

Last night, I watched a beautiful documentary called Shark Whisperer, about Ocean Ramsey, who swims with sharks. Her viral videos with tiger and white sharks have helped raise awareness about ocean conservation. I loved this documentary—the way she moved in the water with the sharks reminded me of resonance and energy work.

As she described the connection between herself and the animals, I felt a strong resonance with my own work. It seems that she attunes to the field of the animals, and within that field, shares information through the nervous system. This information is somatic, not mental—perhaps electric in nature—yet it can be translated into thoughts when one is conscious and aware.

This, in essence, is also how I work with clients—both remotely and in person. I attune deeply to the field, receiving somatic information. Some of it gets processed through being witnessed in presence, and some is translated into words and shared during the counseling part of the session.

I’ve made a few short 30-minute online sessions available each week for those who are curious to work with me but aren’t ready to commit to a full session. These are available until the end of August. You can read more and book your Summer Golden Soul session here.

I also wanted to share something practical that’s been really nourishing for me lately. For the past couple of years, I’ve had the habit of making a green soup or a light green dahl every three days. I store it in small, single-portion mason jars in the fridge, ready to enjoy at each meal. In winter I warm them, but in summer I often drink them chilled or at room temperature. It’s such a wonderful way to make sure greens are always on hand—I personally don’t always crave raw veggies and often prefer them cooked. These jars save a lot of time and make a beautiful addition to a meal, or even a light meal on their own.

Here are some example ingredient combinations I rotate:

• Celery – fennel – green lentils – cumin seeds – parsley (blended in raw at the end)

• Celery – fennel – carrot – cumin seeds – fennel seeds – coriander seeds

• Zucchini – mint – yellow lentils – cumin seeds – fennel seeds – coriander seeds – basil (blended in raw at the end)

I simply boil the vegetables and spices for 10–15 minutes, then blend them with the fresh herbs. Et voilà. I store them in small quart mason jars. Sometimes I sauté the spices in ghee before adding water and vegetables.

Let me know if you try it.

With love,
Nalini

A cleansing flower shield

Floral veil

Yesterday, I went to Florence for a day visit. I had to pick up my Swedish passport at the consulate. I took the train early in the morning and walked all the way to the consulate—it was still quite cool, not too warm yet, and I enjoyed the morning air. On the way back, though, the city had heated up.

I stopped at one of my favorite tea shops, La Via del Tè, to get some Sencha. It’s a quality tea shop you can find in some big cities. I had run out of my home stock, and Sencha is my daily treat—I drink it every day. I love the herbal, grassy notes and the kind of quiet alertness I get from it. Matcha lattes are good, but I prefer Sencha—it’s simpler, without the sugar element, and more grounding for me.

After that, I went to visit my friend Giulia. We had lunch together and then visited her new home-in-the-making. She’s an interior designer, and she and her husband are creating something truly beautiful in the center of Florence. It was such a joy to be there, to see the textures, colors, and choices coming together, and to witness this moment of transition in her life.

Later, we had a delicious Sicilian granita. And then I made my way back to the station, totally exhausted. I caught an early train around 4 p.m., and on the train, I gave a Healy session to a friend who’s recovering from trauma after falling from her horse. We’ve been doing a series of sessions to help support her energy field as she heals. These kinds of falls often awaken deeper layers—old things buried in the body that want attention—so this work can be very tender and important.

When I got home, I ate some cooling soup I had made earlier in the week—full of greens and parsley—with a bit of white rice. And then in the evening, we had our weekly Yoga Nidra for Sensitive Souls session, which was very sweet.

I always draw inspiration from what I’ve lived that day. Everything is connected. When I prepare a nidra, I trust that what I need is also what others will resonate with—that we’re tuning into the same thread. Last night, I created a practice that was centering and nurturing. We moved through all the chakras with alchemy bowls, cleared the energy field, rooted ourselves in the central channel, and gently cleansed the auric membrane. Then we rested in the awareness that simply bringing attention to the body is already a form of care.

Needless to say, I was deeply tired afterward. I had absorbed a lot from the day—from the city, from the healing session, from the group field—and I had very messy dreams.

So this morning, I knew I needed some support. I have a small pantry where I keep my flower essences—ones I’ve made throughout the year when a particular flower has called to me—and a collection of organic essential oils I’ve gathered over time. I made myself a cleansing and protection mist. I sprayed it around the house, on the things I brought back from outside, and gently around my heart and body.

I truly feel how deeply our subtle body responds to plants, to pure botanicals—to their care and intelligence.

So today, I’m sharing this protection mist I called Floral Veil recipe for subscribers. I hope you enjoy this way of tending to your own field, too.

Read and subscribe on my Substack The Well’s Weaving to unlock recipe