The power of silence

Watercolour 2025

Last night’s Yoga Nidra for Sensitive Souls was recorded live during our weekly gathering, and I’m feeling so much joy to share the replay with you here.

Before each session, I take half an hour to sit, tuning in and creating the energetic field we enter together. Last night, I felt a strong call for clarity and spaciousness. I created the space around me using different shades of white—textures and materials that invite stillness. A soft white sheepskin beneath me. A large, off-white shell from my mother’s collection. Selenite and a clear quartz crystal on the altar.

I lit two white candles and offered herbs I had gathered that day: wild mugwort from my walk, a sprig of white sage growing on my terrace, and a small quaint pinecone. These quiet gestures, these invitations to presence, helped form the container.

I also positioned two singing bowls: my crystal alchemy bowl, resonant with the sacral chakra, and my crisp white quartz bowl, which to me moves through the heart, the throat, and even the head. At times I added the delicate sound of African chimes, whose woody sounds dance beautifully with the bowls’ tones.

As I guided the practice, I spoke about the importance of cultivating inner silence especially now, when the collective psychic field feels so charged. Returning to the stillness within ourselves is not just healing; it’s a quiet offering to the world. When we hold spaciousness inside, we ripple that frequency outward. We remind the collective field that presence is possible, and that peace is not only a longing, but a living embodied reality.

May this practice be a sanctuary for your sensitive soul.

With love,

Nalini X

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Sea rituals: Abhyanga in the early light

[leggi in italiano]

As summer begins to unfold, I find myself pulled more and more to the sea. This time of year, the light arrives early and beckons gently. I leave my little hilltop village just after dawn and begin the walk, an hour and a half through forest and path, where the mountains meet the sea.

There are closer beaches, but this one is my favorite. It’s hidden, quiet, and requires a bit of effort to reach. The descent is steep, just enough to work up a good sweat. Once I arrive, I dip into the cool morning waters to cleanse, then lay down and dry off slowly in the early sun.

And then comes the anointing.

This is one of my most beloved rituals of the season: Abhyanga by the sea. I bring with me my womb oil, a sun-infused olive oil with hops, mugwort, and lavender. (I’ve shared the recipe before.)

There’s something deeply nourishing about oiling the body after a swim in the sea, especially under the soft touch of the first sunlight. I give special attention to the kidneys, belly, and feet. These are the areas that call to me most: places that seem to ask for warmth and care. You might find that your body calls for different places. Listen to it.

As I anoint, I sometimes imagine the oil cleansing not just the skin but the inner tissues too. These herbal oils penetrate deep, bringing nourishment to the muscles, the bones, the nervous system. The sun seems to help them travel even further inward, a sweet nectar medicine.

After anointing, I lay for ten more minutes in the sun: face-up, then on my belly, soaking in the warmth. Then one more swim to wash it all away, to complete the circle.

It’s a ritual I treasure, simple, profound, and deeply regulating. If you live near the sea, or if you’ll be visiting the ocean, a lake, or a river this summer, I highly recommend trying it. Find a quiet moment in the morning light. Let the land, the water, and your own hands care for you.

This post is part of the Abhyanga Love series, introducing Yoga Nidra for Sensitives, a weekly gathering designed to offer restoration and reconnection through deep rest and body care. We meet tonight at 9 p.m. (CET).

🌀 Zoom link to join:

https://us06web.zoom.us/j/89713106452?pwd=IuW8TYf76j3mcyBaRGFbEX2U4mEZKg.1

Meeting ID: 897 1310 6452

Passcode: 110135



Let me know in the comments if you try this ritual or if it inspires something of your own. These practices are meant to open doors into tenderness, doors I believe we all need, especially now.