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Why self care rituals for wellbeing matter

Sometimes I feel a sense of overwhelm when I think about the national and global events unfolding beyond my immediate world. When things feel noisy or heavy, I find comfort in returning to small, familiar self care rituals — moments that help me feel grounded and present.


The word ritual is used a lot these days, and I wanted to share what it means to me. From a non-religious or secular point of view, ritual can be understood as a repeated, intentional set of actions that create meaning, comfort or connection. These practices don’t need to be tied to belief or doctrine; instead, they centre on human experience, offering psychological grounding and a sense of continuity. For me, ritual sits somewhere between the secular and the sacred — a quiet space where both are welcome.


Monty the Boston Terrier dog sits by the quay
Monty sitting by the quay at Ruan Saltings

One of my most consistent rituals is walking my Boston Terrier, Monty, along the Ruan Lanihorne Saltings towards Sett Bridge. On the surface, it’s simply part of responsible dog ownership, but it has become much more than that. During these walks, I look for moments of glimmer — a concept I first came across through The Simple Things magazine, which I adore for its celebration of creativity, wellbeing and slower living. Catching sight of a kingfisher darting across the river, or noticing fresh otter prints pressed into Cornish clay before the tide washes them away, are some of these fleeting glimmers. They’re small, easily missed moments, but they hold a quiet kind of magic. I’d encourage you to look for your own glimmers when you’re out and about.


Riverscape at the Ruan Saltings
High tide at the Ruan Saltings

At home, I’m fortunate to be surrounded by essential oils. They form the backbone of my botanical work — from the core oils I return to again and again, to the wider palette of plant-powered fragrances I use when blending with intention for home fragrance and body care. Scent has an incredible ability to anchor us in the present moment, and it plays a central role in my own daily self care rituals for my wellbeing.


During the day, I often light a candle as I work. My current favourite is Fiddler’s Green — a bright, herbaceous blend of clary sage, katrafay, cedarwood and bergamot. Its green, uplifting notes bring a sense of spring indoors, especially welcome during long stretches of wet, cold and windy weather. Although this fragrance isn’t yet available as a candle, its spirit lives on in other forms, offering that same gentle reminder that lighter days will return.


My most cherished rituals, though, are centred around self care. These don’t need to be elaborate or wrapped in intention or spiritual meaning unless you want them to be. I’m a firm believer in the therapeutic benefits of salt water — its ability to relax muscles, support the skin and encourage mental calm. Since last autumn, I’ve been embracing cold water swimming here in Cornwall, finding it to be a powerful support for my mental wellbeing. When the sea isn’t accessible due to weather or conditions, I turn to warm water rituals instead.


This is where bath rituals come in. A warm bath infused with salts, minerals and botanicals can echo some of the restorative qualities of the sea, while offering comfort and containment. Creating this ritual can be simple: let others in your household know you’re taking some uninterrupted time, dim the lights, and light one or two candles.


Restore candle sitting on top of folded towels on a bath's edge
A warm bath, candlelight, and a moment set aside just for you — simple rituals that gently support wellbeing.

As the bath fills, allow yourself to slow down — perhaps massaging a drop of oil into your temples, eyes closed, breathing steadily. When you step into the bath, notice the warmth, the scent, the feel of the water against your skin. Stay as long as you need. This is time set aside for you.


Ritual, for me, isn’t about perfection or productivity. It’s about marking moments, creating pauses, and offering myself care in a world that often asks us to move too quickly. I hope this glimpse into my own rituals encourages you to find — or return to — yours, whatever form they take.


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