Grateful: Day 36 - Esalen

I’m on a women’s weekend. In my head, this is the stuff that nightmares are made of. And yet I’m having a lovely time.

There are so many delicious people here. Lots of laughter. Not all of it about vaginas. There’s also a cat, the only male on the block for most of the weekend, (though a shaven-headed gentleman was bumbling around the place this afternoon looking for Susie, whoever she is). The cat’s called Bobby. He might be a girl. He’s black and quite long-haired, so you just can’t tell.

He sleeps on his back with his feet in the air or, like now, with one paw curled over his face. He purrs constantly. He has hairy ears, on the inside as well. He’ll be stroked by anyone, but he’s not a needy cat. He lets you come to him. I like Bobby very much. He’s no dog, but he’s pretty good.

I went for a swim before dinner. Naked. Mainly because I didn’t bring my pondy swimming costume. The water was chlorinated and warm – a completely different experience. The lights were low, but the pool was lit from within. I’d see my shadow shape on the back wall as I swam towards it. On the way towards the deep end, you swim towards the light.

I’ve always thought there was something dream- and death-like about being underwater in a pool. There’s a slow motion about it, especially when your eyes are unprotected. It’s all moving shapes, light and lilting. The silence of the water makes it different. I was on my own in there for most of the time, playing at going towards the light.

I’ve laughed such a lot today. This is the first time I’ve done this kind of workshop since I lived in Esalen in 2001/2002, or just after that time, at least. There’s often an energy-eater on a course like this, and this time is no exception. A lot of the group’s focus goes on framing her while she plays out what she needs to do to get attention.

But listen, there’s only one, and there are 11 of us here. And what we’re doing is quite lovely. It’s on the playful side of earnest. Or maybe slightly more on the earnest side, but with a great big willingness to play whenever there’s a chance, it seems. Most of these women are confident, funny and fulfilled. And creative. I’ve picked up lots of contacts of people to do shit with, work-wise as well as just fun.

Esalen was amazing, when I think about it. I wonder how many times I was the energy-eater in a group. I’ll probably never know. At least once, I’m sure and if I think once, then probably many times more. I did some random and fantastic stuff out there, from acting/therapy to tai chi, painting and the one that made me nauseous to think about but seemed to make the most difference, about sexuality. It wasn’t as terrifying as I’d thought, but there were full body hugs and a couple of questionable rituals. They’re what made the difference, though.

And then the whole lifestyle. Up early, for me, working on the farm. After a group circle, we’d harvest veg and wash it in cold troughs, shrouded in San Francisco coastal fog from 7 till 9 and then go in to breakfast. Every morning, I’d eat two soft-boiled eggs, because if I held one hot egg in each hand as I waited in the queue, I’d be able to use my fingers by the time it got to making tea or spooning porridge into a bowl.

I used to dance there. It’s the only time I’ve genuinely been free and comfortable dancing since I stopped drinking alcohol. I’d dance early in the mornings, in an hour-and-a-half session called ‘dance your prayers’ or something equally Californian. It was so good. I had a ball. A sweaty, thumping, twirling good time.

I remember some festival of drumming that we did, where we chanted, danced and throbbed our way through the whole village to celebrate I don’t know what, but it was transcendental. I was on another plane, by the end of it. Sweating again. Wide-eyed and high as a kite. Same as after a sweat lodge. Great states to be in, and no substances involved at all.

And the evening festival we did, with dancing too, and a great bowl of flowers picked from throughout the grounds and offered to every person coming in. They could have their feet washed too, and get a massage any time. There was no money involved. It was just so. Lovely.

Hot tubs on the clifftop – these were interim tubs while the ornate marble ones were built at the bottom, closer to the sea. I loved these wooden rounds where you could sit and watch, up to your neck in salty, sulphury water as a storm came in across the Pacific, throwing off great shards of lighting into the ocean.

And flowers. So many flowers. Every single day of my six months living there, I'd be out in the gardens or on the farm, looking at all the flowers and plants and pretty much every day I'd find something new. I had hot tub baths full of flower petals. I made flower gifts for people. I was surrounded by natural beauty in a tangible, day to day, in your face way. The closest I have come so far is the pond, but even that, with all its dark beauty, doesn't come close to the joyful, colourful vibrancy of the Esalen gardens.

There were black widows and teepees and troubled souls, and I learnt a lot there.

And tonight too, we’ve danced. And had a lovely time. And swum in the pool, all radiant from the dancing. And now it’s time for bed, in the singlest single bed I’ve ever been in. It’s not much wider than my computer. Ridiculous. I’d rather sleep all star-fish tonight, but I’m sure it will be just fine when I finally settle down. I’m spent.

I’m loving that the blog habit is still there, even though I can’t post this up today. I’m still writing and I’m still honouring the promise. A gratitude blog post every day. It’s been such a transformational practice for me. Things just keep getting richer.