Saturday, June 9, 2007

Reality moment


I am in the process of trying to change my thought patterns—please don’t hold your breath while waiting for results. But seriously
folks. . . According to a book called “The Brain That Changes Itself” by Norman Doidge, the ability of the brain to remold itself can now be scientifically measured using sophisticated techniques. This brain “feature" is called neuroplasticity and the ramifications are astounding and give credence to various spiritual notions and thought about the power of positive thinking, prayer, etc.

So why did I find myself thinking about my worst moment during the spa experience this morning? (Like I said, don’t expect miracles overnight.) The truth is the best moments are easy to pinpoint: when you’re on the massage table and you hear the gentle knock on the door indicating your massage therapist is about to enter; when the treatment is about to begin and you feel warms hands making contact with your back; and for me, when you discover that your and your massage therapist are breathing in sync. (I love when that happens!)

Here’s my worst moment. When you have to leave the treatment room and face the bright lights and perky staff. I’m not ready to be drawn into the real world but there’s no way around it; you can’t stay in the room until the high wears off. The sounds of the outside world with their glare of intensity seems so dissonant to your senses. If you’ve ever read Gunter Grass’s The Tin Drum, it’s exactly like that. The story is about a boy who willfully stops growing at about six. All he wants to do is return to his mother’s womb where it’s dark, warm and safe. (Sure, there are other implications there but we’ll leave that alone for now.)

I wish there were an easier way to transition from spa to real world, say, with the aid of a reentry hall. It would be long foyer and as you walk down it you are slowly but surely reintroduced to the percussive sounds of voices and music. The lights would incrementally come up and by the time you reached the end of the hallway you’d feel much better able to cope.

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