Two friends came to town, a husband and wife, J. and A. J. is the father of my best friend Veronica's 20-year-old son. We became friends on their last visit, two years ago, when, then as now, they came to Mexico to take an extended course on Janzu, an aquatic therapy.
Last Tuesday, six of us, A., J., Vero, me and two other women, and the dog, piled into my VW Cross Fox and went to the hot springs. The dog, always happy to be included in an outing, we let out to run, joyously, alongside the car on the long way in o Escondido Place.
There, after disrobing in the early morning chill, while the J. and A. performed Janzu on Veronica in one inside pool, I warmed up in another, before doing my "laps" in the circular pool outside.
Forty minutes later, all that accomplished, Vero and I dried off and I drove her to work at Waldorf school, with the dog again running exuberantly alongside, the long, quiet drives out and in. The whole process, drying, dressing, exiting and returning, took perhaps 40 minutes.
When I got back, the second member of our party, a Waldorf teacher from Argentina on a lecture tour in Mexico, was dressed and calling a taxi in the front office, having already had her Janzu session. Wishing her a buen viaje, I made my way back to our pond-side lounge chairs. I slipped into my bathing-suit, already mercifully dried by the breeze and the sun, and then into the waters, where A. and J. were already working on the third member of our group.
Passing through that first chamber, I moved into the second where the chorro, was flowing, water falling forcefully from a 4-inch pipe high up near the ceiling. Normally, there is a line, with people each taking a five-minute turn under that aqua massage, but right then I had it all to myself.
After 30 minutes of that therapeutic pounding, with other people arriving for their turns in he charro, I exited the waters stepping into the already-strong sun.
Having eaten breakfast when I rose hours earlier, I was getting a little hungry. I had eaten some watermelon before I took Vero to school, but that calming rise in blood sugar had already passed.
I get cranky, especially when I'm hungry. I used to pout when I didn't get my way, not always, but always ridiculously, and ruinously. I could blame my father, who was never very good at asking for what he wanted. He expected you to figure that out, along with most other things. If you couldn't, or weren't aware that there was anything that needed figuring, he wasn't likely to tell you. It was more complex (isn't everything?), but in a phrase, he spent a lot of time being misunderstood.
Now, the ridiculousness of my being uncomfortable in this situation; having just enjoyed an uninterrupted half hour of the chorro massaging my body, head to toe, lounging in the sun, in an oasis in Mexico, while I waited, only a short while more, for my turn at a wonderful experience, was not lost even on me.
So, wisely I located a container of sliced mango and pineapple, I had previously been made aware of and ate some more fruit to assuage my hunger. I then closed my eyes and perhaps dozed, because the next thing I knew A. was beside me softly informing me that it was my turn.
It's hard to describe the ease of being floated, pulled, stretched, massaged and swayed in the water. The sensation, nose-clip in place, of being moved along submerged, just below the surface, water flowing over your face, or being gently rolled, is more than wonderfully relaxing. It is a transformative dance. For me it was rebirth, ending as it did with me pressed between their bodies, enclosed, like a babe in the womb.
After that, while I recuperated in the shallows, A. and J., in some kind of post-therapy debriefing, performed Janzu simultaneously on each other. Two circus acrobats, they spun, turned, flipped and caressed, locked together like dolphins at play. I watched for a while, then left them so engaged. Moments later, we were together again aside the pond, drying, dressing and snacking. The snacking was important, not just for me. This was because our intended lunch at a street stand in nearby Atotonilco would be delayed by as much time as it took to go fetch Veronica, whose school day was almost over.
It was just the end of an ordinary day at the Waldorf School, but the scene at the gate was celebratory. Parents, all friendly, many of whom I knew, were entering alone and exiting happily reunited with their children, while I waited outside with the dog.
Still, after 20 minutes of this, at 2:45, I was getting hungry in earnest. When I mentioned this to A., the surrogate mother who had just rebirthed me, she invited me back to the car. There she produced a banana and a piece of a piece of a pecan pie. It really was perfect. Between bites I told her, "Eres mi sueño", "You are my dream."
The festivities continued on the ride to Atotonilco and during our late lunch there. The Latin warmth on full display was aided by the fact that our food was produced almost instantaneously, fixings placed on top of tacos already on the grill.
When I'm hungry, I get irritable, like my taciturn father. When I'm tired, I get sad, like my narcissist mother. The simple solution would be to eat or sleep, but, in some perverse way I've used these feelings to revisit my repressed childhood trauma.
The intention I held for my Janzu therapy, lounging pond-side waiting for my turn, was to come to better terms with my petulance. The therapy and the day brought that about. Food was available, provided for my asking, but sometimes I had to ask, to let others know what I needed, and to be open to receiving it.
I got home at 4:30 and made an effort to get to work. But I was tired. And knowing that it would be good, to integrate the therapy, if I slept, I did, taking an extended siesta.
Early in the evening, A. messaged asking how I was feeling. I responded, "Marvilloso. Duermi por dos horas", "Marvelous, I slept for two hours." She wrote back, "Que bueno!" "How great!"
Abundance is easier to realize, well-rested and with a full stomach. I'm going to go have a bite to eat and take a nap.
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Dr. David presents Lokkal, the social network, the prettiest, most-efficient way to see San Miguel online. Our Wall shows it all. Join and add your point of view.
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Discover Lokkal: Watch the two-minute video below. Then, just below that, scroll down SMA's Community Wall. Intro / Mission
