First things first:
Clean your tub with comet, then cleanse it with the appropriate crystals and yerba buena. Set the intention of sweetness. Do you have enough honey, honey? That’s the base. Draw shapes with it in your tub as it fills with warm water. Write your name in the water with your finger. Add two halved oranges, giving each piece a gentle kiss as you bless it. One for joy, one for warmth, one for laughter, one for patience with yourself. Your favorite flower will dance in the ripples and waves. As you add your damiana and a few pinches of dried hibiscus, sing a song to yourself:
When the tub has filled, pause. Do you have your incense? Sai flora, jasmine, India temple. Where is your honey calcite, so you can focus on you? Rose quartz to support it? Is there passionflower essence on hand?
Lovingly disrobe. Gently touch each part of your body as you undress it. Say sweet things to yourself. Thank your feet, ankles, and calves. Laud your knees and thighs. Have you blessed your hips and ass? Oh, and the belly that hangs like an apron, the part of you that fills your lap. Be gentle with it. It protects you. You’ve always loved your breasts; they’re like a favorite child. Give your arms more than cursory touches or glances. Lightly stroke them with your fingertips. Dance along your skin with your nails, up to the shoulders and neck. Apply loving pressure to your throat, third eye, and crown. You know how to do this.
Pray, to yourself, with a poem Ntozake Shange gave us: my love is too delicate, too beautiful, too sanctified, too magic, too Saturday nite, too complicated, too music to have thrown back on my face.
As you pray, set foot in the tub. Kiss your losses goodbye. Rest in the embrace of your bath. This is your love made manifest.