Alie’s Floral Body Oil Recipe

The trees had turned lush and green, the winds were warm, and the melodies of chirping birds filled the air. Summer was approaching, and this season always stirred new emotions within me. I felt alive, as if a bird's relentless wings were fluttering inside me. However, this summer, in addition to these familiar sensations, a new call echoed in my soul. It was the call of transformation, like the distant murmur of a familiar storm. If I could heed this call and find a wide sail to unfurl when it blew, it could carry me to unknown horizons. But if I ignored it and resisted, I might be swept away by its force...

During such times, focusing on work became a challenge. Traveling was an option, of course, but what I truly needed was a sanctuary for quiet reflection. Finally, at the end of a somewhat restful week, I decided, for the first time, to take a day off just for myself.

I woke early with excitement. I wanted to savour every hour of this day I had set aside. After a bit of exercise, I decided to visit the lake, an hour's drive from my home. Wandering among the trees, watching the still waters, and listening to nature soothed my mind. As the tranquility settled in, I was surprised to find the idea of writing a book resurfacing. The idea was beautiful, yet I needed a subject that truly captivated me and the resources to research it. It was a long and arduous journey, but the voice inside me reassured me that I was on the right path.

As the sun began to set, I decided to visit the market. In this old place at the city's center, you could find everything: kitchen supplies, antiques, various textiles, and, of course, the fragrant herbalist's shop that Alie always visited. Wandering through the labyrinthine corridors lined with an array of materials transported me to another world, enticing me to buy everything I saw. It felt as if I were a sorceress concocting magical elixirs... Naturally, I couldn't resist and purchased some herbal teas, dried flowers, and essential oils. I thought that perhaps if I brought these materials to Alie, she could create something special for me.

In the late afternoon, I followed the gravel path to Alie's house, passing through her exotic garden, lush with the exuberance of summer and transformed into a small forest. She had lined the path with small lamps, their warm glow guiding me to the house. She was settled in her classic chair in the winter garden, reading a book to the tune of old Spanish melodies playing in the background. The candles on the table beside her cast a gentle light, and there were the curved bottles of her mixtures and a notebook she always kept close. When she saw me, lowered her glasses and smiled. Then glanced at the bag in my hand and winked with curiosity. "I got you something!" I announced. Her eyes lit up with delight. I quickly crossed to the chair opposite her, my usual spot, sat cross-legged, and eagerly placed the bag in my lap. "I dedicated today to myself and guess what!?" She shook her head in playful confusion. "I stopped by the market and bought some materials from your shop!" I said. Her eyes widened with excitement, "Really? Show me what you got!"

She loved that I shared her fascination with plants. Alie was a woman who cherished solitude and possessed a deep creative spirit. Since my childhood, running, sitting, and finding refuge on this porch had always brought me peace. I loved listening to her stories and trying her magical concoctions. Today, I had come to find that peace once again. I began placing the materials on the coffee table in front of me, one by one. "I got dried elderflower, calendula flower, chamomile, jojoba oil, coconut oil, lavender oil, and some geranium oil." She let out a small sigh of pleasure and excitement. Then, rubbing her hands together, she asked, "What's the plan?" I hadn't actually made a plan, but I knew my intention. I needed inspiration!

Alie examined the materials with a discerning eye, carefully inhaling their fragrances as if her nose would reveal all their secrets. She decided to use her own lavender and coconut oils and to add some dried flowers from her collection. She wanted me not to waste what I had bought and to use them when I made the mixture myself after learning the process. I was eagerly waiting for us to start immediately, but today was not the right day. She said we needed to make this mixture two days after the full moon appeared in the sky.

The mixture we would prepare was going to be a magical body oil made from healing herbs. When I asked her about its special property, she asked, "Do you know the Gorgon sisters?" I shook my head no. "These sisters are the children of the sea gods Phorcys and Ceto. All but one are immortal. And who is that one?" She looked at me with a mischievous expression and leaned in to whisper, "Medusa!"

As the oven timer chimed from the kitchen, Alie rose immediately, promising to continue shortly, and disappeared into the kitchen. I glanced around and stretched my arms back, like a contented cat, enjoying the serene and somewhat magical winter garden. Spending a day away from the workweek's hustle and the weekend's chaos, stealing a day from life for myself, had done me a world of good. One didn't always need a special reason to take a break.

While I was lost in thought, gazing at the garden, Alie returned with a large tray. She had made fragrant rose tea and strawberry cream tart. As the scent of the steaming tray filled the room, we sat with our plates, ready for the magical recipe.

"Medusa, the relentless creature of mythology. A fearsome monster with snake hair and deadly eyes… Of course, this woman wasn't a monster all her life. Beyond what we know, she was a beautiful and powerful young woman.

Thanks to their father, who ruled all the seas, these three sisters could breathe both underwater and on land. Medusa was mortal, yet she possessed powers and magical abilities that her sisters did not. She was also far more beautiful and virtuous than her sisters.

When the sisters turned sixteen and began exploring the deep waters of the oceans, Phorcys grew worried. What truly frightened him was the thought that someone might one day abduct Medusa and use her life to threaten his kingdom. He didn't want to pay great prices to protect his honour and his daughter.

Eventually, this thought troubled him so much that when she turned seventeen, he left her on an island in the middle of the Aegean Sea, where powerful waves crashed against rocky shores, and strong winds blew over the cliffs. Though the island seemed intimidating and ominous from a distance, it concealed lush forests, flowers, rivers, and paradise-like gardens where the cliffs ended, far from prying eyes. The island was protected by three powerful witches: the Moirae sisters. These sisters had the power of prophecy and were wise in the ways of magic. Medusa was raised by these women. She became highly skilled in mixtures, herbs, and various spells. She grew into a beautiful and powerful witch. Because the sisters' greatest talent was prophecy, Medusa learned to live without making plans for the future. When she acted on impulsive decisions, the witches didn't interfere. But if she made plans, they would find her before she could act on them, either punishing her or confining her to her home. Despite her efforts not to think about it, she lived with the dream of escaping the island one day.

She needed to craft a spell that would show her the way and guide her correctly even in her spontaneous decisions. Because if she made a plan and got caught by the witches, she could face severe punishment. Whenever she had previously attempted to escape, they had confined her to her home or, knowing she could breathe underwater, chained her by the foot to the bottom of the lake. She had to use a riskier, untested method. The most crucial part of the spell was the intention. If she could convince her mind to believe in her intention, she could succeed. However, she didn't know what kind of spell she needed to strengthen her intention.

The witches had taught Medusa many mixtures. Spending part of her day in the plant workshop within the greenhouse, Medusa had become a master alchemist over fifteen years. This island, where every day felt like spring, where rivers never dried, and where every kind of flower grew in its soil, sometimes resembled a dystopia. Occasionally, visitors came—pirates or strangers seeking prophecies. At those times, the witches would hide Medusa, allowing her only to watch from a distance. She hadn't communicated with anyone for years. For this reason, sometimes, she was even afraid of escaping. She looked no older than eighteen, but the years had passed, and she was now thirty-two. She could live on this protected island forever, but she didn't want a life of hiding just because she was mortal. She wanted to fall in love, to travel, and she missed her sisters.

One evening, as midnight approached, the three witches gathered in the hammam. They lit candles with murmured prayers and anointed their bodies with a thick, sweet-scented oil that filled the air with its fragrance. Once their ritual was complete and they had calmed, they gathered in the garden and instructed Medusa to stay inside her house. Medusa, however, realized that this oil might be useful to her, so she decided to return to the hammam and retrieve the leftover oil bottles the witches had used. As she quietly made her way back, the three women, draped in their dark robes, lined up and, under the star-studded sky, welcomed their guests who had come from afar. The moon would rise the next night, casting a twilight glow. The three women, despite the lack of light, escorted the man—who appeared divine with his silvery armour and powerful presence—to their sacred altar. The witches never took ordinary visitors to their holy altar, where their powers were heightened, but where they also remained vulnerable while in a trance. They would etch their prophecies onto fabric pieces readable only on the day they were written, allowing visitors to leave the island promptly without lingering.

Whether the man heard the prophecy he desired is unknown, but he departed as swiftly as he had come. Meanwhile, Medusa was returning home from the hammam and encountered the witches on the way. They had transformed into ethereal beings, with faces shrouded in darkness, hair like smoke, and hands cloaked in mist. They stood side by side in a trance, their heads following her silently as she passed by.

The following morning, and for a few days thereafter, everything seemed as normal as ever. The witches did not seem angry with Medusa. Perhaps they hadn't noticed her while in their trance, or maybe they had seen a truth written in her fate. She paid it no mind and began researching the ingredients of the mixture in the bottles she had taken. Once she had gathered enough information, she performed a ritual to combine the ingredients and created a mixture. This concoction would grant her the power of prophecy she lacked, strengthening her instincts to guide her correctly.

Medusa used this oil for weeks, applying it after each bath and repeating the same ritual until she believed in the power of her intention. One night, she was abruptly awakened by the haunting call of an owl echoing through the darkness. It felt like a summons. Quickly, she rose from her bed, cautiously opened the door of her small, one-room cottage that led to the garden, and peered outside. The night was calm, bathed in a soft twilight glow. The witches' house was silent and dark, their minds in a deep sleep. She crossed the garden with quiet steps and, once beyond its boundaries, began to run towards wherever her feet would carry her. After a long while, she found herself standing before a steep cliff, with the sea stretching out behind it. Trusting in the effect of the mixture she had prepared, she leapt off the cliff without a moment's hesitation. As she plunged into the icy waves and opened her eyes in the depths of the sea, she realized she had not died. Without wasting a second, she began to swim with all her might.

As she swam, her body transformed in response to the salty water; her skin became covered in silvery scales, her arms turned into fins, and her legs into a tail. The witches could no longer catch her; the underwater world was unlike the one inhabited by land creatures. Still, she couldn't plan where to go until she found a safe haven and prepared a protection elixir. So, she swam tirelessly for hours, following her destiny.

Eventually, she encountered ships and approached the surface, silently observing her surroundings. It was a city, but its inhabitants were still deep in sleep, with some early risers preparing fishing nets and others sprawled across streets, docks, and the beach.

Quietly, she stepped onto the shore. As her tail and fins disappeared, she exited the water cautiously. Whispering the words she had learned from the witches, she blended into the wind and passed through the crowds unnoticed. She didn't stop until she found a safe place, eventually arriving at the temple of Athena.

I listened to Alie breathlessly. She paused to take a breath and then looked at me, saying, "Well, you know the rest of the story..." Judging from my expression, she realized I did not, and she smiled. "Athena took pity on Medusa and offered her protection. However, the goddess, driven by her ego, looked down on Medusa. To her, this mortal woman was pitiful simply because she was not divine. Yet, this protection was not enough to keep Medusa hidden. Poseidon, Athena's husband, occasionally visited the temple under the presence of seeing his wife, but he was drawn to Medusa's beauty. He struggled to deny his feelings for a mortal and fell in love with her. His feelings were reciprocated, but Medusa was a virtuous woman and would never betray Athena. She could roam the city’s crowds and the silent blue sea without fear, thanks to Athena. But Poseidon had the soul of a god, filled with great ego and pride. One day, while Medusa was bathing, he secretly approached and violated her. It didn't take long for Athena to find out, and she blamed Medusa for what had happened. Consumed by jealousy, she transformed Medusa into a monster with snakes for hair, a body covered in scales, and eyes that turned any man who looked at her to stone. Once again, Medusa had to flee in fear to the sea. She built an island of rocks in the waves and hid within it, becoming an angry and unhappy woman. After a while, word spread about the men Medusa had turned to stone. Years later, when her sisters finally found her, they too shared her fate, having been turned into monsters by Athena. But Athena's anger was unrelenting. When she learned that Perseus, son of Zeus and her half-brother, was hunting Medusa, she decided to help him. With Athena's aid, Perseus killed Medusa and turned her head into a weapon. And that's the short version..."

She took the last sip of her tea and leaned back. "Medusa was a powerful witch. More importantly, she was a clever woman. We will recreate the oil she stole from the Moirae sisters, and we will help you focus your intention." I was filled with excitement...

Two days later, we gathered in her garden again. Alie had a small shed where she stored the herbs she collected. She brought a few items from the shed, and we began preparing the ingredients together.

1 part dried elderflower,

1 part dried calendula flower,

1 part chamomile,

1 tablespoon jojoba oil,

5 tablespoons coconut oil,

5 drops lavender essential oil, and

4 drops geranium essential oil,

1 medium-sized pot,

1 heat-resistant jar with an airtight lid,

1 dark colored storage jar,

1 piece of cheesecloth.

With our ingredients in hand, we moved to the kitchen. She arranged everything on the table and then turned to me. "There’s a reason I chose these herbs. Do you remember their properties?" Confidently, I sat on the stool by the counter. "Lavender carries the qualities of the air element and belongs to the masculine category. I chose it for its calming and soothing effects. Lavender is particularly used for purification, and I want to use it to cleanse my mind." I reached out and picked up the calendula flowers. "These flowers were harvested under the full moon. They belong to the fire element and have many properties, but I chose them for their divination power. I want them to guide me." Alie was pleased that I remembered what she had taught me. She showed me the chamomile. "Although I know their calming and purifying properties, I chose them for prosperity and abundance. I want my intention to bring me financial freedom as well." She seemed pleasantly surprised by my depth of thought and raised her eyebrows. "Wonderful insights!" she exclaimed. Then she made us coffee and began to explain. "This mixture takes a while to make, but if done correctly, its effects can be enhanced. First, we’ll crush all the dried herbs in a mortar. This helps the herbs integrate with the oils. Then we’ll mix the oils and the herb powder in the heat-resistant jar. Finally, we can add extra coconut and jojoba oil to cover the mixture. Once ready, we’ll tightly seal the jar to keep out air. Our mixture will be ready to heat! We’ll keep the water in the pot at 43 degrees Celsius. I have a thermometer to measure the temperature, but you should get one if you’re making this at home. If the temperature goes above this, the mixture will burn and lose its potency; if it’s too low, it will take longer, and we won’t extract the full essence of the herbs. We’ll place the jar in the water without letting the bottom touch the pot, and it’s crucial that no water gets inside the jar. Even a single drop can ruin the mixture, so we must be careful. Then comes the waiting. You’ll need to stay by the pot, adding water as it evaporates because we’ll be heating the jar for about six hours." I listened carefully and took notes on the paper she handed me.

She set up a small stove in the winter garden. We settled into our chairs with our coffee. "Now, let’s get to the most important part!" she said, looking at me. "I’ll guide you, but you need to concentrate and prepare the mixture from start to finish. Focus on your intention and repeat it at every step. For six hours, you need to focus on this intention. Maybe you can write a chant or a song to help. Whatever works best for you..." Even as she spoke, I eagerly examined the ingredients.

I focused and let myself flow with her instructions. I didn’t know how I would maintain concentration for six hours, but Alie guided me. She played beautiful music, and we repeatedly sang the song we created. We whispered it to the herbs, the jar, and every step of the mixture. I could feel the energy rising within me, my skin tingling.

As evening fell and the stars began to shine, we gazed at the sky in the light of the stove and candles. She gave me a string of prayer beads to help me focus on my intention. The mixture would be ready before the moon fully illuminated the night. When the time was up, we turned off the stove and wrapped the jar in a towel to let it rest.

I was exhausted. Alie, who had prepared dinner for us, looked at me with proud eyes and said, "You did an excellent job with the mixture today. Rest and eat, and let’s meet again tomorrow evening to package the oil, okay?" I was happy and could hardly believe it, but I already had a few ideas for my book. After eating, I returned home and slept soundly.

The next evening, as the moon began to rise, I knocked on the winter garden door at the agreed time. Alie came with the jar and the cheesecloth. "Welcome!" she said. We chatted for a while. "Now for the final step: we’ll package the oil and you’ll apply it to your body like a moisturizer after every bath. First, we’ll strain the mixture through the cheesecloth into a clean jar. This part is essential, and you must repeat your intention and squeeze the mixture thoroughly to extract the oil."

She gave me one of the colorful bottles she had on her table and told me to store the oil in it. She explained that while I could keep it in the fridge for up to two years, it’s best not to store such mixtures for too long as their efficacy diminishes over time.

I used the oil for about a week. After each bath, its lovely scent and moisturizing properties soothed my soul. I repeated my intention while applying it. Even on days I didn’t shower, I would rub it on my hands before bed, reminding myself of my intention and performing a small ritual each day. It had only been a week when one day, as I was resting on the veranda after work, the idea came to me. I would write about Alie’s recipes. I would explain what she had taught me and how to apply it.

I shared my idea with Alie, and she was thrilled, offering to help with tips. We quickly began working on recipes to share.

This was a body oil recipe and the story of the first mixture that inspired me to share Alie’s magical recipes. May it bring inspiration to you too!