UNTIL YOU BECOME THE CEREMONY

UNTIL YOU BECOME THE CEREMONY
Narayan Beauty — Spring Equinox | Aries Season | Mercury Direct | RoseGold

I did not plan a ceremony on this morning.

I sat in my usual spot ~the greenhouse, we call it, a screened pole shed in the middle of the garden with a few stained glass windows that catch the early light just right. French press of my carefully crafted morning chai coffee cacao brew. Parm and egg fry. The ordinary ritual of a morning that happened to fall on the Spring Equinox, the true New Year, the moment the sun steps into Aries and the wheel of the cosmos begins again.

And then ~ whoosh.

No warning. No invitation. The heart opened on its own terms. Images flashing behind closed eyes. The kundalini rising. The toroidal field of the heart expanding in my chest until it filled the greenhouse, until the garden itself felt like it was holding space,  responding, standing as guardian. Pure bliss. Not something I created. Something I was received into.

I have learned not to fight it. To let the energies do what they do and what ever was on the to do list will be for another time and space , just not now .

Afterward, a few hours later , sitting in the quiet with the garden still humming around me, I thought about how long it took to get here. To be the kind of person the equinox just finds. Without effort. Without a bowl or a candle or a written intention. Just a woman in a screened shed with good coffee, and the cosmos deciding she was ready to receive.

It didn't happen overnight.

In the mid 1990s and into the early 2000s before spirituality became performance art , I moved through new moon and full moon sacred circles. They were potent, in a tiny appartement on the edge of Venice with a hand full of potent women. They were real in a way that is difficult to describe to someone who has not sat in one, the air changes, the energy concentrates, something ancient wakes up in the room.

The final meditation of each gathering was always the same. We would write our intention on a small piece of paper, place it in the bowl at the center of the circle, and focus every ounce of our collective energy into that vessel. Month after month. Moon after moon.

One of those papers held a very specific request. I had created a collection of nail polish and a technique I believed in. I wanted a meeting with a producer at QVC I was requesting a specific door to open.

The call from my agent came.( yes I had an agent as a manicurist, Hollywood everyone has an agent even a manicurist , there was at this time just a few of us running the streets at this stature ) The meeting happened. We went immediately into production.

The question that has stayed with me across all the years since is this: was it the ritual, or was it simply my destiny? I don't have the answer. I am at peace with that. What I do know now,  from this side of decades of practice ,  is that it doesn't matter. Because what the ceremony was actually doing had nothing to do with manifesting a QVC deal.

It was teaching me how to find my way back.

Back to the flow I had been told, we all have been told since birth, I was separate from. Back to the cosmology that was always mine, that the false matrix spent years convincing me had nothing to do with me. The bowl and the circle and the paper were scaffolding. Beautiful, necessary scaffolding,  the kind you need when the bridge between you and your own belonging hasn't been built yet.

You practice ceremony until you don't need it anymore. You Practice and dismantle until you are sitting in the middle of your own cosmology. Then one morning the equinox finds you before you even set down your coffee cup.

This is the work. The constant, methodical dismantling and reorientation of your life into the cosmology of the creator. So that you become the creator of your life.

This is not a new teaching. It is ancient beyond reckoning.

The rose has been on this earth for 32 million years. Wherever she grew in the ancient world she was woven into the ceremonies of the Great Mother — adorning her statues, strewn on processional ways, pressed into the sacred rites of the feminine mysteries. Long before any institution claimed her, the rose was the botanical of the heart, the plant that works all nine systems of the body, the symbol of direct devotional knowing, the kind that lives in the body, not the doctrine.

The counting of rose beads as a meditative practice is older than any church. It came from the sacred feminine tradition. Like so much of the sacred feminine, it was absorbed, renamed, and the source was quietly buried.

The three Marys carried a lineage that traced back to the temples of Isis and Inanna, a path of sacred embodiment, of hieros gamos, of the divine feminine and masculine in holy union as the direct route to the divine. No intermediary. No institution. Just the fully inhabited body as the temple. This is what had to be shut down. A woman who knows her own body as sacred ground cannot be controlled. A woman who experiences the divine through her own direct devotion, through anointing, through scent, through touch, through the fully inhabited heart, needs nothing between herself and source.

So they diminished them. Made Magdalene a fallen woman. Made the Mother passive and untouchable. And nearly erased Bethany entirely.

But the rose persisted. She always does.

This is not a story against devotion. It is a story of devotion returned to its source. If you were raised in a tradition that carried the rose, that spoke the names of the Marys, that told you the body was a temple — you were always closer to this than you were told.

There are three Marys who walked closest to the heart of the mystery.

Mother Mary — the perfected vessel, the one who said yes before she could have understood the full weight of that yes. The feminine as pure receptivity, as the ground from which all life moves.

Mary Magdalene — the Anointed One, keeper of the Rose Lineage, first witness of the resurrection, the embodiment of the sacred feminine reclaimed from everything that tried to diminish her. The rose as fierce, uncontainable love.

And the third: Mary of Bethany.

Mary of Bethany is the contemplative the anchor. The devoted. The one who sat at the feet and listened while everyone else busied themselves with tasks. She is the one who took costly perfume — spikenard, one of the most precious botanicals of the ancient world — and got on her knees and anointed the feet of the teacher and wiped them with her hair. An act so intimate, so embodied, so utterly unashamed in its tenderness that it has echoed through two thousand years without fading.

She is the anointer.

I was told once that I was her. I can't say whether that is true. What I can tell you is that I spent 33 years on my knees tending to people's hands and feet.

Make of that what you will.

The Rose Gold Collection
Living Inside the Rose

When I created this collection, something older than my own intention was moving through the work.

I wanted to blend the rose into an experience so sensory, so personal, so sublimely yours that it would bring you all the way back into your own body. Your sensuality belongs to you. It is yours. And if you choose to share it with another, you deserve to feel sovereign enough — rooted enough — to know who is worthy of that gift.

I blended her with white cognac — distilled from the sediment of the wine barrel — and brought the whole into harmony with rose geranium and sweet orange. Then I magnified and potentized the blend with ormus gold, to energize the cells, plump them, regenerate your natural glow from deep within the skin outward.

The collection is the ceremony made physical. An act of anointing for your daily life.

ROSEGOLD FACE OIL The Day Oil — your morning reorientation, your daily yes to your own skin.

ROSGOLD MOON FACE OIL The Night Oil with CBD — deep restoration while you dream.

ROSGOLD BODY NECTAR The Body Oil — so exotic it barely needs description. You'll understand when you open it.
ROSGOLD MYSTIC Pearls Rose & cognac to mist face and body 

ROSGOLD BUTTER The Body Butter — to slather from head to toe, as if tending to yourself is holy. Because it is.

ROSEGOLD The Rose & Pomegranate Wash — fermented whole pomegranates, brightening in a single use. The newest addition, and she arrived ready.

ROSEGOLD LIP The Cacao Lip — because even the lips deserve ceremony.

ROSEGOLD The Parfum — to anoint the pressure points.

To live inside the rose.

This equinox, Mercury is direct. The astrological new year has begun. The light has tipped past the dark and is not going back till the winter .

You don't have to build a bowl and a circle to mark this turning. Though if you need to — do it. The scaffolding is sacred. Use it for as long as you need it. There is no shame in needing a bridge.

And one day you will be sitting in your own quiet spot with your coffee going cold, and the cosmos will find you first.

Explore the Rose Gold Collection 

With love and rose petals, Narayan