Contemplation

I sprained my foot a couple of days ago, which hurled me into a place of forced stillness. Boy, did I rebel. I couldn’t figure out who to be pissed at! (Don’t you hate that?) It wasn’t anyone’s fault, not even my own. Poof! Just like that a simple walk with the dogs in the park on a sunny, happy day went sour. I’d turned, hadn’t looked down and found my foot had supinated—hard--into a dried muddy rut. Then I had to get the dogs back, a half-mile walk at least.

Everything takes so much longer than it usually does; some stuff I can’t do at all. Still with a twinge of resistance, however, I must admit I do get the benefits of that incident’s aftermath: For one, I’m reading more, beyond the day’s news and my magazines.

I guess spas were created for just this reason. Historically, they were rest homes for the infirm, whether it was by plunging into a sulphur or spring bath or for a hardy “rubdown” by a blond resembling the Gestapo commandante is Lena Wertmuller’s film “Seven Beauties,” people came with their maladies and obstensively left restored.

Spas have morphed since then. Now, soul refreshment is the order of the day, too. In fact, my favorite part of my sprain debacle was going to see Dr. Andy Pasminksi, 1342 W BELMONT AVE, (773)-477-2225 in Chicago (sorry non-Chicagoans!) I call him my Chiro+ doc because he’s about so much more than just the spine. He’s got something truly spiritual goin’ on. (For those of you who read my minor rant in another post about how those in the healing arts should never describe themselves as “healers” but should instead let their clients apply the designation, here I can say with all my heart that Andy is a true healer.) His powerful healing energy, supreme kindness and his utter and complete focus on me during my session when I knew he had two other clients he was working with simultaneously, meant not so much that I was able to walk without my cane (ugh!) when I left, but though I was limping on the outside I was smiling on the inside (and on the face, which is where smiling usually takes place. ;0) I can give myself credit for this: I was ready and I accepted the skills he had to offer.

Having a good spa experience requires that you be in a place of acceptance, too. It’s no less a forced stillness than my foot sprain. If you’re unconsciously rebelling because the utter stillness makes you bats than you’re probably right where you’re supposed to be. So, um, shut up. Yet those are the times it’s easy to get annoyed without real merit at your practitioner, say, or the music, or the fact that you’ve been asked to turn off your cell phone. Spas can only give you so much—a peaceful atmosphere and all the attendant bells and whistles. But for you to get your takeaway and to feel whole again, you’ve got to open your heart to it. That’s my wish for us all: That we can accept the good.