St. Theresa

Yesterday I behaved rather unlike myself. . . Ooh, back up. I read somewhere that to be a “good blogger” the author should state clearly the post’s subject within the first few sentences, just like any good writing. Because I aim to be a very good blogger, and because my blog is about The Land of Spa, let me say here that the topic of this post is only tangentially about spa-ing. I shall elaborate later.

I repeat, yesterday I behaved rather unlike myself. For the first time in a long time I received one of those chain letter type emails, the kind that require that you bother several of your best friends by forwarding them the email and then further asking them to bother several of their best friends to continue the chain. The chain must not be broken at all costs and as you sit in front of your computer you sort of freeze with the weight of it all: Bother your friends and get flak, or don’t bother them and forever wonder What if?

Those echains used to circulate around a lot but along the way people began to get annoyed by them and it mostly stopped except for the ones sent those people—you know the type: nice enough but not the hippest number on the dance floor.

Generally, it’s the topics of these emails that rendered the participant uncool. (Get ready because this is where this post becomes tangentially about spa-ing.) Sometimes they are just workaday spread-the-love kind of e-chains, but more often they are religion-based and thrive on fear, like all religion. I consider myself spiritual and I do try to live by spiritual principles. In fact, it is the spiritual intent behind spa treatments—healing hands, and the like—that I probably drew me to the subject of spas to begin with.

So when the echain came yesterday invoking St. Theresa, “the saint of little ways,” telling me all I had to do to make a wish of my choosing come true was bother my friends, well I don’t mind saying I could have used a wish fulfilled at that moment. So I looked at the sender; she definitely wasn’t what I considered one of those people, and I read the whole echain, which stated that I needed to send it in five(!) minutes, and I admit it. I caved. I sent it two 12 of (what used to be?) my closest friends.

Within moments I was shot back an email by my trigger-happy friend A (you know who you are), telling me how much she “hates” those echains. A couple of my other always-game friends (I love you T and M), not only didn’t get bothered by my e-intrusion, but they actually sent the chain along and bothered 12 of their friends. How do I know? Because one of those friends sent the same echain back to me today. I assume the rest just clicked delete as fast as their little fingers could reach it.

On the fourth day the echain says my wish will come true. I have three more days to see if A or T, M and I have the last laugh.

Correction

It has been brought to my attention that in a previous blog, A Case for Mindfulness, while praising the blog, The Healing Power of Laughter I failed to link to it. So here it is. Apologies--though I've also got it on my list of favorite links.

Old Spa Days

In a previous blog I talked about a story in the New York Times about the idea that the spa industry might be leading up to the need to standardize spa treatments—how else to insure that you’re getting your money’s worth?

I threatened to get in contact with one of the spa experts whose quote I found. . .I think I called it patronizing. I did call Neil Jacobs, the senior VP of Asia-Pacific Operations for the Four Seasons. (Or as he described himself, “I look after all the hotel activities and then look after the spas at nights.”) The quote in question, which I will paraphrase here, was that one could receive as good a Thai massage on the beaches of Thailand for five bucks as one in a Manhattan spa for $150.

Had to get to him through a publicist and she wanted to know the nature of my question. (It’s for a story for Spa Asia.) I told her it related to the NYT story—and then smoothed out the edges of my question so he’d agree to speak. It was only a day or two after the story appeared and in my innocence I imagined that he might be a bit contrite about his comment.

He wasn’t. In fact, I got the sense that he doesn’t do contrite. Jacobs was full of controversial opinions and not afraid to express them. I really liked him for that. He was not at all the kind of person you’d expect to oversee spa operations, especially in Asia where I imagine gentility might trump crusty bluntness. I liked that he didn’t walk a diplomatic line. Jacobs is British by birth—but quick to point out that he’s a naturalized American citizen with a home in California. His voice is husky, like he smokes cigarettes, and though his comments are not measured he knows a lot.

He does feel that the Asians have it over the West—even though I never asked him to comment on his comment, this much was clear. He feels, he said, that “they are intuitive healers while North American massage treatments feel too automated, like they have no heart.” (I should point out that he gives proper credit to Native American healing rituals and to Eastern European spa culture too.) So, he says, the Asians’ technique might not be as perfect but “their touch in many ways feels perhaps more spiritual, consequently more meaningful.”

He feels that luxury hotels have filled a gap by supplying an environment (a fancy, clean hotel) that Westerners feel more comfortable visiting. “In the old days, you would get traditional reflexology in a dingy back room somewhere, so Westerners were never exposed.” Sounds like a scene from The Quiet American.

He was fascinating to speak with. Bet he has lots of interesting stories to tell. Now if I can just get myself to Singapore I could contact him, he could put me up at the Four Seasons and then over dinner or a cocktail I could persuade him to tell me about the old spa days.

A Case for Mindfulness

It’s interesting how the burgeoning spa industry is about holistic healing—at least in part; the other part is our desire to turn back the clock, or freeze-frame it at the very least, which I think is my next point.

It’s so easy, even for those of us who are ‘students’ of it, to lose sight of the reason we care about the land of spa. All these ancient treatments and practices—Ayurveda, Native American healing rituals, Balinese casting of the dream ball, European water cures, yoga—that we feel moved explore, all rise from this central idea of nurturing mindfulness.

The question of whether these practices can coexist in purity as multinational corporations that are laying claim to them is something I contemplate, and about which I feel a little vigilant.

To that end, I feel the need to lighten up a bit. The other day I came upon a blog that I really like, written by a comedian/clinical psychologist called The Healing Power of Laughter. I like the dots he’s connecting about the healing power of laughter. It’s a smart blog and you should check it out.