The Idiots Guide to Zen

The calming music is stuck on a 60 second replay loop and the room is dark and decorated in shades of brown, teal, and orange. There are flickering candles, and an atmosphere somewhere between a high class brothel and a hospital operating room. After charging through a busy noisy day, I am suddenly thrust into a deprivation chamber with no human contact, and I am beginning to have scary little visions of the world outside changing so rapidly while I am stuck in slow motion, that I will not recognize anything when I step outside the door of the spa. Facials” my girl said yesterday, “are amazing. We have to get one Mom”. So that was all settled, and here I am setting in the darkness, having rushed to make my appointment, only to be told it’s going to be a half hour late, that I can’t talk to my daughter who’s already in with Deborah getting her treatment, and would I please turn my cell phone off? I search through my pocketbook for a pen so I can at least write, but I must have dumped them all in the car when it overturned. I pace from end to end of the tiny room and then out into the hall. I am embarrassed to admit that I have no capacity for relaxation right now, no desire for quiet meditation, and no interest in even sitting down.

I make a dash for the front door and pull out my cell. I call my son to find out what time our dinner reservations are, but he has no idea as Eva had been gone with his car since early that morning. Cold in my light jacket, I decide I must face the music and head back to the muted tones of the perfectly appointed room. An attendant drops by to remind me of the importance of hydration, and goes off to fetch me water with lemon. I alternated drinking and pacing until I see a door open in the darkened hallway and a smiling Greek goddess emerges and immediately begins to apologize for being late. Eva is getting dressed she says, and I mull over in my mind why one has to get undressed for a facial. My girl gives me that do not embarrass me look the minute she sees me, so I keep my questions to a minimum. When my turn comes, I take my clothes off with out a murmur, slip under the sheet in the darkened room, and wait for the talented Deborah. She enters with a smile and tells me we will start with a sensory journey, which I would have sworn was total BS until the smell of the Bergemot hit me and I felt myself physically sinking deeper into the soft heated table. After an hour with her plying me with lotions, hot towels, massage, and some reflexology moves, I was not only relaxed, I was ready to reconsider my sexual preference. I’m not sure paying someone to make me feel that good is legal in Virginia.

When I emerged almost 90 minutes later, my children were waiting to go to dinner, but on the way we had to stop by the Apple store and buy Eva a computer. I floated through the evening calm and relaxed, extending my debit and credit card numerous times. We ended the night at an amazing restaurant where my children had all American artery clogging steaks, almost raw, along with salad and potatoes. Did I mention that she’s vegetarian too, but like me, not a real righteous one? We stumbled upon the weekly special at the restaurant, all wine at half price, so we had a bit of the hearty house red while Eva recounted her shopping adventures. She had just as much fun as I did at Kiss and Make Up and discovered she was also wearing the wrong size bra. She also got new running shoes to jog off that steak, and lots of accessories and clothing. Jason and I just sit on the other side of the table, totally entertained, me still calm, relaxed, and glowing from my facial. Tomorrow, or even next week I will think about the money. I am grateful now that I have excellent credit, wonderful children, and the good sense to live in this moment.