Tuesday, April 28, 2015
Morning just started to reveal itself through some splashes of light across the sky. Stars still so bright over the darkness of the ocean. Water crashing the shores in the melancholic movement. Even birds still sleeping. Slowly I walk down the gravel road. Quite. This is why I love to wake up early and tip toe in the dark through our small room, careful not to wake up my roommates, pick up my backpack ready from the night before, slip in my boots and head to the baths. I probably look too exotic for some, little crazy for others, or totally normal Esalen-ish for the old-comers in my blue and pink flowers pajama and cowboy boots. I like my little routine where I head first to the dining room where I pick up a cup of freshly made coffee by some compassionate soul who gets up before everyone to make us our morning fix, I say hi to the community cat and walk down to the baths. At this early hour most of the bathers are those who work at Esalen, guests have luxury to sleep a little more before breakfast starts. I love the quite and pristine view from the baths at this hour. I appreciate neutral faces here and there in the water, just like mine, unable to speak at this early time. So we sit in the hot water like snow monkeys, silent and motionless, peering into the waters of Pacific ocean and some light on the horizon. It is the morning just like any others, except there is unusual noise from the baths. I go there, in my morning zombilike way, sit in the water and I hear the dialogue from the neighboring tub in a full daytime voice: “ I come here for 30 years several times a year, but it’s so much talk here for me, so much conversations, so much just everything. Believe me, I am an introvert, yes I am an introvert, and I really like silence. I like quite. I like to sit in this very corner and just be quite”. “For God’s sake, just be quite”, I say to myself, but he is on the roll, and he is laud like a thunder, so my snow monkey rise and go dress herself to head to work in the kitchen.
Posted by Elena Nezhinsky