By Isabelle Naessens, Cultural Writer
In the heart of the Atacama Desert lies one of the largest geothermal fields in the world at 4,300 metres above sea level. The earth smoulders, bubbles, and exhales. Geysers gush from the ground like burrowed dragons, spewing water streams. I remember being fascinated by this raw and captivating energy. A reminder that life finds a way, even in the most extreme conditions.
This mineral landscape is peppered with bubbling hot springs. You slip into them slowly, as if entering a sacred space, your body gripped by the frigid air of dawn. The heat envelops you as steam rises and bodies fall silent. Every element beckons you to be present.
This ritual unfolds naturally, propelled by the force of the magma and the effluence of the earth. The omnipotence of life brings time at a standstill and commands an instinctive respect for the place.
For the Andean people, Pachamama—the earth—is alive. In El Tatio (the Indigenous term for “the weeping grandfather”), this belief is tangible: the earth releases her hot water, like an offering. To bathe there is to enter a relationship with her and with the entire cosmos.
Our culture shapes our thoughts about well-being
In many Asian, African, and South American countries, rituals are part of a long and deep-seated rhythm. The body surrenders to silence and time becomes an ally. There is no other intention than to be there, fully present, and let time work its magic.
In India, the abhyanga massage envelops the body with warm oils, applied with slow, continuous strokes to gradually soothe the nervous system. Pranayama regulates the breath to open an inner space of clarity and patience. In Japan, the kobido and the head spa draw to an almost hypnotic surrender: precise movements, the sound of flowing water, dim lighting. Each movement is meditative. In Thailand, traditional massage stretches and mobilizes the body: on a mat on the floor, you let yourself be carried away.
These rituals do not aim for intensity and quick fixes. They do not unfold in urgency but rather in surrender—not as a weakness but as an ability—the ability to allow yourself to just be, without performance, without results to achieve.
Contrast this with our modern Western society in which well-being is often based on a logic of optimization. We calculate our sleep, we manage our stress, and we maximize our energy and productivity. Even care practices are tailored for performance: release tension quickly, improve concentration, tone the body, and breathe more deeply.
Guided meditation, self-awareness books, personal growth podcasts and tracking apps transform well-being into a quantifiable and individualized experience. Even in a group setting, the experience remains centred on personal benefit; it supports individual performance rather than the creation of deep connections or collective transformation.
Care is perceived as a service integrated into our busy agenda and thought of as a functional break. The body is a tool to be fixed, regenerated, and improved. The ritual then becomes a technique or a protocol rather than a lived experience or a true return to self.
Restoring meaning to rituals
The issue is not so much to pit these visions against each other nor wishing for a return to rituals of the past; rather it is restoring meaning to care. For while the movements and techniques have some common elements throughout cultures, it is neither water, breath nor touch that transforms us: it is the meaning we ascribe to them.
Ultimately, care is not an action to perform, but an experience to be lived. The body is not to be corrected but listened to. It is often in this slow and silent space of surrender that well-being can finally emerge, brought forth by a fundamental trust in the wisdom of life that knows how to repair itself when we stop interfering.
Traditional rituals remain sources of inspiration, a weave of meaning and living practices. Many contemporary care offerings are inspired by this. Rather than viewing them out of context, we should retain their wisdom and intention.
Well-being is not an add-on to life: it manifests itself in every breath, every gesture, every moment lived with awareness. Being fully present allows the ritual to exert its power and magic.
