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.

Friday, June 8, 2007

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.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

It's a family affair

The Spa industry is flooding into every area of our lives. I just called my sister to wish her a happy birthday. She was on her way to meet her friend who is taking her out to lunch and then to enjoy a half spa day together. They'll get massages and mani-pedis together. (We love this idea because then every friend or loved one's b-day can be your b-day too!)
Moms-and-daughter bonding is another excuse for a twofer spa moment. If you missed your opportunity this year, start taking notes for next year: The Spa at Norwich Inn in Connecticut has a new thing I just heard about. It's called "Building Bridges: A Spa Experience for Teen Girls and their Mothers" and it's offered twice in the summer. The two-night, three day program will be offered June 24 and 25, checking out on June 26; and Aug. 5 and 6, checking out on Aug. 17. For costs and program components, see Building Bridges at http://www.thespaatnorwichinn.com/overnight_packages.aspx

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Here's a great deal


The following is a courtesy to my massage therapist Brian Chambers. Those of you who live in Chicago should take heed. He's gooood.

He says . . .

Saturday appointments are back! Saturday massages are now available at 10am, 12:30pm and 2pm, and Sunday sessions--as always--are available at those sames times. So calling all Mon-Fri workaholics: TAKE A BREAK AND COME SEE ME!

And...AGAIN: ALL FIRST TIME CLIENTS GET HALF-OFF. PLEASE PASS IT ON!

To Your Health & Well-Being,

Brian Chambers, LMT
Skylight Wellness
1220 W. Morse Ave, Second Floor, Chicago
(773) 856-6091
www.skylightwellness.meta-ehealth.com
brianchambers@rcn.com

Tuesday, June 5, 2007

Let it rain!


I’m still a little fixated with the whole feet-reflexology topic. Please indulge me this one last time. Recently I spoke with Cynthia Kasper (773-764-7040 in Chicago) who practices the Raindrop Technique, a system that uses essential oils and something called Vitaflex, which, it turns out, is a cousin to reflexology in that it is applied to the feet or hands and stimulates points in the body. For example, the instep correlates to the spine. The word raindrop stems for the fact that essential oils—at least eight and used in the same sequence--are then applied, or “dropped” to specific points.

Cynthia says she starts by “grounding” the client by holding his shoulders. Then, for the core of the treatment, he is asked to turn on his stomach, where Cynthia applies some of the oils to the bottom of the feet. This is the Vitaflex portion and it’s designed to help the oils absorb themselves into the bloodstream—and to feel good. Then a hot moist towel is applied to allow the oils to penetrate deeper. This, she says, first creates a hot sensation, which then shifts to cold.

The final portion of the one-hour treatment is the individualized part and centers on the client's back, in which oils are selected specific to the client’s needs and then worked in. Cynthia says the oils clear the "receptor sites on the cells." Others remove “misinformation” that may have gotten into the DNA sequences. “Our cells communicate to each other as part of a normal processes. Some of this information—energetic, electrical or chemical—can become skewed.” The Raindrop Technique, she says, “releases toxins and clean receptor sites.”

Here are a couple of helping websites in learning more about each oil's function, or to learn the practice yourself, which is not yet offered at most spas.

www.youngliving.us
www.raindroptraining.com
http://www.newdirectionsaromatics.com/essential-oils-essential-oils-ac-c-9_25.html?gclid=CPLq7oqbtowCFR6AWAod0AHaRw

Monday, June 4, 2007

She's fresh, exciting.


The whole spa mania has come out of a much larger spiritual-psychic-metaphysical paradigm shift our culture is experiencing. I think we live in a pretty darn amazing time. I can practically feel you rolling your eyes and asking if I've read the paper lately. Well, yes, too much, I'm afraid. But my desire to the explore healing arts--what The Land of Spa is all about--is a desire to be a part of a larger recognition that we are here to stretch our boundaries. I think it's happening in the 21st century at break-neck speed. Man has been in a constant state of evolving consciousness and in doing so we've risen beautifully to the occasion and failed miserably--all balled up together and happening at the same time. I think that's important to remember when we're reading the news or watching it on tube. There are teachers all around us, a lot of them are in the healing arts, working in The Land of Spa.

I went to an amazing workshop this weekend. It's called the Art of Allowing and it is led by Esther and Jerry Hicks. Esther has been channeling a collective nonphysical entity named Abraham for years and they share their knowledge in the form of these cross-global seminars based on the law of attraction. (If you can call workshop cruises to the Caribbean "global.")

It's all really cool for those of us who want to explore beyond our seemingly three-dimensional existences so that we can make the most of our time here. So, I wrote this essay based on Abraham's concepts. I hope you'll find it . . .refreshing!

I’m So Fresh!

It all started with “The Secret.” You know, that DVD that’s sweeping the planet because it’s supposed to reveal how you too can attract the perfect life, easy as ordering off a menu? Oprah—who bragged how she knew the secret before it was The Secret—dedicated a whole show to it. I caught the fever, too, maybe because I was delirious with a real fever, which is why I was on the couch watching daytime television in the first place.

Well, “The Secret” just didn’t work for me. I couldn’t get past the cheesy dramatizations and how all these gurus, free thinkers and gazillionaires that were interviewed seemed contractually obligated to say “the secret” instead of what it’s really called, which is the law of attraction—something, by the way, that Isaac Newton was on to before you, Oprah, and Plato before him, even. But I have to give that DVD credit—and to me for attracting it! Because of it I found a better secret.

It was my psychic who divulged the best spokespeople ever to peddle the law of attraction. It hit her after shuffling the tarot cards. Did I have questions for the cards? “Well, I have this book idea that I’m wondering if I should pursue,” I say. “Do you like the idea?” She asks, laying them out. “Well, yeah,” I say. “But I feel like the time is ripe now and all I can think of is that I’d have to put my income-producing writing aside, which means I’d be looking down a barrel full of poverty.”

She looked at the cards. “First of all, it’s a very good idea and you could be very successful if you write it.” Then she turns to me. “But you’ve got to stop thinking “poverty” and start replacing it with words like “productive, creative, purposeful.”

Oh, boy. I’ve been through this before. This being my mind. It resists. I used to complain to my therapist how I was afraid of getting too healthy for fear I’d lose my artistic ace-in-the-hole. Oh, how adorable I must have seemed to her back then! (Notice my positive spin there?)

Since the therapy years I’ve had my chakras read and my soul retrieved. I’ve been rebirthed and I’ve danced with horses, all in an attempt to lose my negativity and locate my true essence, which is apparently a success magnet. None of it ever stuck. I used to have an alter ego who wrote quippy tales about her elusive search for inner peace. One day, I thought, I’d package them into a book called “The Reluctant Spiritualist”—until I found out that it’s now the title of someone else’s book.

Now, according to my psychic, all I needed to stop giving my fortunes away was to buy a book called “Ask and It Is Given,” which she recommends to all her biggest head cases, or as she put it, her “high-functioning, intelligent clients in need of a ‘mental shift’”—like that’s supposed to make me feel better. (Actually, it did, briefly!) This book is one of many by a nonphysical collective consciousness named Abraham, channeled through Esther Hicks. I did get nervous when the psychic told me that Abraham and his crew assigns desire-attracting exercises—I hate homework—but I bought it anyway.

I really like Abraham. They never lecture, are funny, though I’m not sure it’s intentional, and they use quaint turns of phrases like being “tossed about the bushes” to describe the feeling of mentally going negative. And I love the homework! Truthfully, I haven’t gotten passed one assignment, which I attracted when I randomly opened the book to The Focus Wheel Process: Imagine you’re behind the wheel of a car. Every time you have an unchecked negative response, or attempt a fake-positive response, you know it because it feels like being tossed in the bushes. Abraham offers tons of tips on how to stay focused on the now, joyriding to plenitude.

My very favorite tip is so simple, please accept it as my gift to you. (And there’s more where that came from because there is enough of everything to go around!) Whenever you lose your way, all you have to do is focus on the word Fresh, as in Here I stand in a fresh place. I love the freshness. I am aligned in fresh energy, with fresh desire that will bring fresh results.

Aaaaaah. Like a spritz of Springtime, right?

I know what you’re thinking: Sometimes it’s so fun to go neg you just don’t want to stop. But there’s something about the brevity and optimism of the word that turns your head around. You know how the dog whisperer Cesar Millan can knock bad behavior out of a dog just by poking it and going sshhh? He says he’s “refocusing” the dog’s attention, from, say, getting ready to waste Cesar’s unflappable Chinese Crested Hairless dog, to the offender registering an expression of the most profound I-was-lost-and-now-I’m-found serenity. Fresh is like that.

Just yesterday I found the ringtone to Kool & the Gang’s song “Fresh.” (She’s fresh, fresh! exciting. She’s so exciting to me!) I’m going to download it on my cell phone so every time it rings it’ll refocus me just like a poke from Cesar would.

For variety, try stretching it out. Frrrrrrreeeeeeesshhhhhhhhhhh. Abraham says to hold it for 17 seconds, as long as it takes for another thought to join in and vibrate your new belief. (Not as easy as it sounds.) For fun pronounce it with a southern drawl, as in fray-assshhhhhhhhhhhh, or roll the r like a Latin lover. Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrresh.

Sometimes I think of excuses to use it on strangers, like to the grocery stocker who’s piling apples I’ll ask, “Are these freshhhhhhhhhhhhh? If you’re feeling susceptible, make sure you’re not attempting this on a Saturday when grocery shopping can throw you in the bushes in way under 17 seconds. Until you’ve seen results, I caution against doing this during actual driving too, when you can come dangerously close to inflecting fresh like you would that other f-word and end up muddied and entangled in shrubs.

Not everyone needs constant refreshing. My boyfriend says other drivers are always nice to him. He credits it to his flashing the peace sign when he lets someone cut in or vice versa, creating a whole chain reaction of peace. I’d always been jealous of his little peace sign, which wasn’t very fresh of me. But now I’ve got my own secret code. Which is so
. . . fresh!