Spa Failure

Photo by Jeremy Pardoe

I just flunked relaxation 101.  I had my first massage.  Sounds of babbling brooks and chirping birds played in the background.  I was supposed to clear my mind and let the masseuse unknot my muscles.

Turns out I’m not so good at this.  Not that I’m terribly surprised.  I’m a talker and a doer.  I once attended a Quaker meeting and found the silence nearly intolerable.

As the young woman charged with my “wellness” dug her digits into my ubiquitous knots, I tried to follow her instruction to relax, but we control freaks find it hard to have someone else hold up our heads.

I focused on the sound track, but it raised questions.  Where was that wonderful brook in Ireland?  Dingle? Donegal?  Oh dear, I still haven’t booked those final nights for our trip this year.  Then there was the brook in Bandelier National Monument, New Mexico.  When will I finally get a chance to take my husband and children there?  Then there’s the brook near Krimmle Wasserfalle in Austria.  Another place I went with my family as a child that I wish to go with my children.   Does this count as a blank mind?

The masseuse asks yet again if she is using too much pressure.  I reply that it hurts, but I’ll get used to it if it’s good for me.  Apparently that was the wrong reply; the pressure lightens.  Earlier she said if it hurt, it meant I wasn’t able “to relax into it.”  I’d failed again.

Rather than listening to Celtic pipes in blue-green rooms, I think I do better standing in the sand watching the blue-green waves washing onto Celtic shores.


About elizabethlewispardoe

Mater: de Facto et de Jure
This entry was posted in Biography, Motherhood, Pardoe Photography, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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