Sunday, March 25, 2007

Inspiration & Those Who Inspire

There's nothing quite as inspiring as listening to the words of an inspired person. It's as if their entire being is embedded with light of a spiritual nature. So when they say, 'Get over it,' they're not saying it quite the way your drinking buddies would, but the way your best friend who loves you would, and the words (get over it) take on an entirely different meaning.

In the spirit of inspiration, I'm getting over it. And getting on with it instead.

Part of the inspiration also came from gathering all my old notebooks, the notebooks that have fallen to ruin with pages torn and stained by mystery droplets of essential oil blends. My notebooks remind me of my grandmother's cookbooks -- pages fused together with egg white or frosting or some other ingredient whizzed out of the Kitchenaid onto the text. They're well-loved little books filled with words that remind me where I was in a moment in time. Like the book, Like Water for Chocolate, each day is prefaced with a recipe for a soap or body butter or oil or perfume. I know that if the formula is written legibly, with specific details to amounts of time taken to blend or heat, then that was a good day, an inspired day. But if the formula is scribbled on the page with little or no instruction; when it lacks detail, then I know it was a bad day. My formula notebooks are journals with no personal reference, yet I can feel the mood of each day simply by reading them.

Because of my notebooks, and a custom order, I rediscovered Benedetta, a beautiful Roman chamomile soap stuffed with good things like extra virgin organic olive oil, virgin organic coconut, raw shea butter and organic cocoa butter. Oh, yes, and rivers of Roman chamomile essential oil. When I still had my store, I remember having four or five of these soaps left after a sale and not wanting to get rid of them. So I grated them down and soaked the shredded soap in rose hydrosol. Then when the soap was dissolved, I mixed it with more olive oil until it was cream ~ Roman chamomile and rose cream. It was delicious and decadent -- a simple pleasure. I reserved most for myself and my business partner, gave a few jars away to people I liked, and sold the rest. They sold like stock in Walmart.

But I'm one of those people who bore easily, and I moved on to the next . . . big . . . thing. I didn't revisit this cream soap until a long-time customer ordered some. I revamped the recipe (made from scratch, front to back) and now have the lovely Roman chamomile and rose water soap cream again. While attempting to read a trashy romance novel*, I was plagued by thoughts of this soap. The inner dialogue kept whispering, 'Add sugar, add more oil, add seeds,' and so on. So I did. I took a bit of the cream and added sugar and olive oil, then I took it into the shower with me. I scrubbed from head to toe with it. I felt as if I'd been purified. I know, it sounds corny, but when I stepped out of the shower, I felt as if I'd just indulged in a spiritual cleansing. It makes me wonder how something so simple, so available, can create this feeling of blessedness.

Coincidentally, the original name of the soap, 'Benedetta', is a girl's name which means blessing.

Inspiration -- it's the name of the game, and I'm playing this time.

*Please disregard this statement.


  1. Oh wow.

    I had to go blog after I read your post this morning.

    Maybe there's something in the air?

    But I can tangibly feel where this post came from ;)

  2. Absolutely!

    What a rush, huh? After all the darkness and negative energy, to be released into this light -- no words can describe it well enough.

    Glad you're here, Sara.



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