The Alchemy of Anointing: A Forgotten Practice Reclaimed

The Skin as Temple. The Oil as Oracle. The Body as Altar.

There is a forgotten whisper buried in our bloodlines, a ritual so ancient its memory pulses beneath the surface of our modern skin. Before serums, before scentless moisturisers and sterile routines, women anointed themselves—not to seduce, not to conform—but to sanctify. To connect. To awaken. To remember.

This is the art of anointing.

An act both sensual and sacred, anointing is the gentle reclamation of the body as holy ground. In our era of disconnection, it returns us to ourselves through one small, potent truth: that touch, imbued with intention and oil, is a doorway. A devotion. An alchemical act of healing and becoming.

Let us journey into the ritual of anointing—not as a trend, but as a spiritual renaissance for the modern, sensual, sovereign woman.

What is Anointing?

To anoint is to consecrate with oil. It is the act of applying sacred oil to the body, most often in ritual or reverence, and always with purpose. Anointing is not about fragrance or function alone—it is soul work disguised as skincare. It is where the physical and the spiritual clasp hands.

In ancient languages, to anoint also meant to smear, to massage, to mark. This marking is a declaration: “This body is holy. This moment is sacred.” Whether anointing the brow before a prayer or the womb before sleep, the oil becomes a medium for transformation—carrying with it intention, blessing, remembrance.

At its essence, anointing is the original body ritual. It is how women once communed with their gods, their grief, their pleasure, and their power.

Today, this practice returns—stripped of shame, saturated in purpose.

Ancient Uses: The Body as Oracle

Anointing has always been a feminine art.

From the priestesses of Ancient Egypt who used sacred oils before oracular trance, to the Temple women of Sumeria who prepared their bodies for divine communion, the ritual of anointing held cultural and spiritual weight. Oils were not passive luxuries but medicinal allies—crafted from resins, roots, and flowers known to calm the nervous system, open the heart, or amplify desire.

In the sacred womb temples of pre-Hellenic Greece, anointing was used in rites of fertility, sensual awakening, and passage. Oils like myrrh and frankincense were reserved for the most holy moments—childbirth, burial, erotic offering. To touch oil to skin was to bridge body and cosmos.

In Ayurveda, abhyanga—self-massage with warm oil—remains a daily ritual of love and longevity. In biblical texts, anointing was used to initiate kings, comfort the dying, and honour the divine feminine disguised in human form. Mary Magdalene, in particular, is remembered as the woman who anointed Christ with oil from her alabaster jar—an act of radical devotion and sovereignty.

Each culture held its own blend of sacred oils. Each anointing was a reclamation of presence.

A Modern Rebirth

Now, in a world that worships speed and spectacle, anointing reemerges as rebellion.

This is not the hurried application of body lotion post-shower. This is not skincare with the promise of erasing age. Anointing is the language of soul care. Of presence. Of giving your body back to yourself in slow, rhythmic devotion.

Feminine anointing oil—crafted intentionally, blessed ritually—is returning as a tool for deep embodiment. Blended with plants known to support hormonal balance, libido, and emotional healing, these oils are not perfumed indulgences but alchemical agents for reconnection.

Enter the Phenxx Alchemē Oils Collection™: not just skincare, but soul-care. Rooted in ritual, these feminine anointing oils awaken the sensual intelligence of the body. One blend might unfurl you into your desire. Another, soothe the tender edges of grief or fatigue. Some awaken the womb. Others silence the mind to make room for the heart.

They are not designed to fix, but to remember. Not to beautify, but to sanctify.

In this rebirth of ritual, we do not seek to emulate ancient rites, but to honour their essence—to revive the feminine language of care that lives in every woman’s muscle memory.

How to Anoint Yourself: A Sacred Practice Reclaimed

You do not need a temple. Your body is already one.

You do not need permission. The act is already sacred.

You do not need a reason. Pleasure is reason enough.

Here is a guide for ritual anointing—slow, embodied, intentional.

1. Set the Space

Dim the lights. Light a candle. Breathe. Let the room know something holy is about to happen.

This is not hygiene. This is an initiation.

You may wish to play music—something ambient, or ancient. Let the senses soften.

2. Choose Your Oil

Select your feminine anointing oil. Trust your body’s intuition.

Do you need grounding? Choose something earthy like vetiver or sandalwood.
Do you seek sensual awakening? Try rose, neroli, or jasmine.
Do you need womb care? Look for oils with clary sage, lavender, or ylang ylang.

If you work with the Alchemē Oils, let each one guide you into a specific portal—pleasure, peace, clarity, wildness.

3. Speak Your Intention

Hold the bottle in your hands. Speak your intention aloud or silently.

“This oil is for my healing.”
“This is for my softness.”
“This is for the girl I used to be.”
“This is for the woman I’m becoming.”

Let the words rise from your chest, not your mind. The body listens.

4. Begin Anointing

Start at the crown of your head. Place one drop. Massage in circles.
Move to your heart centre. One drop. Breathe.
Then the womb, your sacred seat. One drop. Hold your palm there.
Let your hands travel to the inner thighs, the back of the knees, the ankles.
Breathe into each place. Offer no rush.

Optional: Include the yoni. With respect, reverence, and consent from yourself. A drop of oil placed at the entrance—no agenda. Only presence.

5. Close the Ritual

When complete, bring your palms together at your heart. Whisper a thank you to your body.

If tears come, let them. If arousal stirs, honour it. If silence lingers, stay there.

You have just remembered something your grandmothers forgot to teach you: that touch can be prayer. That pleasure can be pure. That you, woman, are a temple.

This is Not Just Oil

This is not product. This is practice.

To anoint is to reclaim. To place the body at the centre of your life again—not as object, but as oracle. It is to resist the erasure of the sacred feminine from our daily rhythms. It is to craft devotion from drops of oil and moments of stillness.

This is feminine alchemy, felt through the fingers. This is the future of beauty—not visible, but vibrational.