Arriving at the spa in faded cut off jeans with paint smears, and an oversized grey tank top so my little drips could bounce freely underneath, my bubbly friend Melanie arrived a few minutes later smiling, in a t-shirt that was busy loving her curves. I felt so happy that we decided to visit the baths after all the back and forth we had done before making up our minds. I traded my giant rhinestone flippy heels for bloated blue plastic sandals, and she gave up her comfortable brown leather ones, so we could join the masses in our first visit to a standard spa room. You see, we usually visit the VIP area, because that’s where I had gone the first time, and sometimes in China, the first precedents set the curve for much longer then they would in America. Knowing that neither of us was especially VIP, we decided to pay a lower fare, for an ultimately much more flavorful experience. I’ve been burdening myself with the busies, to keep from obsessing over my situation with Joshua and the other quantum leaps I’m facing, but I’ve also found that I’m just so overwhelmed with energy, that I almost need to find lots of things to do in an attempt to extinguish the fire in my mind. So, when I was laying on my little sofa tonight, with my first Murakami novel, a glutton for his words, in the mess of my half finished spring cleaning, lounging in Thai pants, shirtless, I was perfectly comfortable staying in, but eventually, the buzz in my veins prompted me up out of my Eden. We met in the locker room, confused because we were accustomed to being ushered around in our private VIP treatment area, possibly a little apprehensive but excited about our decision to venture out into the realm of thy commoner, undressed, showered, took to the sandalwood bath, some other slightly milky looking pool, and spent some time in the hot water of the Jacuzzi, completely naked, and comfortable, discussing life, pubic hair, breasts, and men, all the while laughing and smiling before submerging into the heat of the sauna. Unlike the VIP rooms, there are little kids floating around, screaming and splashing, old mother’s being bathed by their adult daughters, and no fancy little disposable panties to cover up my ever so private parts(oh my) while the lady drills into my body with the brillo equivalent to exfoliate the filth off my body. It’s louder, the products aren’t as fancy, but the services, void of VIP style decadence, are the kind that this body knows and appreciates. With my face covered in ground cucumber and the juice dripping through my gently closed eye lids, once again, a beautiful Chinese woman, admired my tattoos as she scrubbed, pleasantly remarked about the beauty of my friend, giggled as she smacked my behind, and had no qualms about slipping that rough little sponge between my legs. With my shy Chinese, and Melanie’s slightly less insecure version, we got along fine, dripping in milk, soaking up the warmth and hospitality of another average and yet completely astonishing experience. We’re a rarity at the spa, and I rather like it. For some foreigners, there is a gracious sense of satisfaction in participating in purely Chinese things. For others, it’s just napoleon-like. I’ve never been very good about going with the flow, and my eagerness to discover parts of this city in the absence of expatriates feels completely natural. We headed first to the 5th floor, where we were turned away, and guided to graze where our inferior arm bands belong, so Melanie’s feet could get a little tenderizing, while mine were coated in the sparkles that I so adore. Dripping in glitter on my hands and toes, I sucked down a sweet red bean soup with glutinous rice balls since I hadn’t eaten a proper supper, and closed my eyes, honoring a day spent with friends, eating and shopping, practicing yoga, and now at the baths, all the while, letting the inflamed thoughts that clog everything up sometimes, to just sit, and see in an instant, that this is where I am, and it is exactly where I should be.
What I think is going on might be really different then what I know is, and I can't decide whether or not I really want to know more about my situation with Joshua, or if I already know everything in my heart and needn't hear are more of it. I can see, only what I know about myself, and that’s part of the wonderful nature that so many miles provide. On the other hand communicating is complicated, because something’s are better expressed without words, and words are all we have. These moments are particularly special, for a multitude of reasons. I have had some incredible conversations recently, read amazing books full of things that I needed to read, discussed a new job teaching yoga, and two nights ago I spent an entire evening with someone who I met about two hours prior, bought her dinner, smoked a bunch of cigarettes, laughed, discussed our lives, and connected in a way that is truly remarkable. Its funny how smoking cigarettes can be really freeing for someone who lives so unconsciously healthily. I don’t particularly make choices that I know are healthy, it’s just been my lifestyle for so long. Picking up cigarette after cigarette, and letting myself ingest something that may or may not have been laced with crab meat, felt like sky diving. Opening myself like that to a relative stranger, rocking back n forth in our hammock of no holds barred communication, talking about moving in together even, sharing the depth of ourselves, even before touching on all the less provocative surface information, was so incredibly freeing. We went back to her beautiful house, after we spent several hours at a restaurant, drank some more cheap alcohol, smoked some more cigarettes, danced, and sang. Like that time in Copenhagenwhen I launched my naked body over that bridge, and shared a bed with a guy who I liked but hardly knew, my intuition was the driving force. I feel like, I'm just being slung all these amazing opportunities at opening, and seeking clarity. I feel like part of this terrible situation with Joshua is totally ok. We'll all of it, actually. I don't regret what got us here, I only feel that I want to make the right choices, and finally face the truth in my own heart, and share that with him, regardless of whatever is going on in NY. I’ve faced so many things in my life which had been impossible at the time, but those moments pass, and the initial hurt fades. I know that this hurting kind of shit, leads somewhere new and wonderful, and perfect in every shape and form. Everything in life is the right thing when experienced fully, and especially when it hurts. Even losing my mother shared its glory. Suffering is indeed the ultimate teacher, who has tested me time and time again. I’m not sure if anyone can understand these emotions, besides myself, and other people like me who have experienced the kind of love that is so rich that possession, or even being alive doesn’t get in the way of expressing it fully. It’s remarkable to be truly single again, even after a year separated us, just now, we are facing the truth about where we are. When you share your whole life with someone, and open your guts up, only to realize there is so much more that hasn’t even been touched, it’s truly incredible. There are so many parallels to be analyzed and a million more cigarettes to smoke or not smoke, there’s so much waiting to be realized, in my life, in my stinky little relationship blunder, in the world, and in the endless possibilities for everything. This is where I am, and I have little idea where I’m going.
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