Orange Anise

Since I spend a lot of time with my soaps, I think of them as my friends. I give them different personalities and I thought you may like to see them the way I do. Meet Kizzy, my Orange Anise soap.

Climbing into her camper van, with her head full of curly red hair pulled back with one of the leather barrettes that she made to sell on Etsy, Kizzy headed out for the evening to the drum circle on the beach for the night of the full moon.  Wearing a tank top, long skirt and shell necklace, she brought her tambourine to play along with the drums, and her bag of crystals and stones to put out in the moonlight to cleanse them.  As she drove to the beach she sipped her homemade orange kombucha from a mason jar, excited to be hanging with her peeps.  Though her family loved her, they just always had a laugh or joking comment to make when she brought up her alternative ideas in conversation.  She didn’t mind though—over the years she had gotten used to being different—but it was a source of pride now, rather than embarrassment as it had been in her youth.  “I’m just on a different wave-length,” she reasoned.  “I see things in ways that they just would not understand.” 

The camper van was her second home. Tonight it would give her a place to stay near the beach, where she and her friends would have a small fire pit set up and various drummers bringing bongos, conga drums and even Japanese Taiko drums.  Some brought maracas and once someone even brought steel drums.  She always felt energized by the rhythm, the energy from the earth recharging her body through her bare feet as she swayed and danced to the beat.  Random passersby would stop and watch the group, and then begin to join in—clapping, dancing, swaying along—which always seemed to bring a smile to their faces.  Why wouldn’t it—they were communing with nature, song, and each other.  Life is meant to be joyful, she thought.

As the group dispersed one-by-one, a few joined her outside her camper van for a meditation session as the waves washed up on the smooth sand and the moonlight glistened on the water’s undulating surface. A spray of thieves’ oil kept the gnats away, with a scent that added to the experience. The whole evening involved so many senses—sound, movement, feeling the sand in her toes, smelling the spices and the smoke from the fire, and feeling the offshore wind blow over them as they danced together to the beat of the drums. The meditation brought the energy down to a relaxing calm. 

Afterward, Kizzy brought out a pot of hot masala chai tea and coconut milk for the remaining friends to drink, with its spicy scented soothing taste that had a touch of anise that she liked. It reminded her of her trip to an ashram in India in her thirties that she took on a spiritual quest–her own version of Eat, Pray, Love.  She and the others turned in for the night, lulled to sleep by the rhythmic beat of the waves on the shore. The next morning, as the sun peeked up above the horizon, shimmering on the water, the group packed up their things and each went their own way until next month’s full moon would bring them out again to celebrate. 

Kizzy pulled in front of her small yellow bungalow with the teal shutters, and, once inside, pulled off her clothes and filled her claw foot tub with warm water.  Unwrapping a new bar of her favorite Anise Orange soap, she slipped into the warm, soothing bath and washed the sand from her skin and the sleep from her body, still enjoying the sensations of warm soothing water mixed with the stimulating scent of spicy lathering soap.

Gratefully taking in all the small details, she pondered, “What more could I want than to feel this good–to be in touch with the four elements—earth, wind, fire and water—and to embody it all through song, sensuality, and spirituality.”    

“It feels so good,” she whispered. Life is good, she thought. Life is good.

I hope you love Kizzy as much as I do.

 

Yours in Gratitude,

Angela