Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Journal of the Spa, Part 1

I am sitting alone at the breakfast table, but I don’t mind. The other women here are lost in conversations with each other – intelligent or shallow conversations, it does not matter – but I am free to notice and savour the smoothness of the yoghurt, the crispness of the apple and the texture of the watermelon.  I can enjoy the warmth of the teacup in my hand and feel the steam kiss my nose playfully when I take a sip of tea.  I can breathe in the smell of the thatched roof – breathe it in deeply – and be overcome by its aroma.  It is beautiful.

I am not distracted by conversation, do not need to put my best self forward, and I shall try not to pay attention to the kilojoules I am ingesting. I don’t want to miss this opportunity to connect with God – to hear His voice above the cacophony of all other voices that beg for my attention and allegiance. I desire that everything today would enhance this communion with God. Oh, that today would be a beautiful dance between lovers where time stands still and all but the presence of my Lover melts away!

The other women glance over at my table and whisper among themselves. They pity me, perhaps, for being alone, but I am not alone.  I am most definitely not alone. I am caught up in a sensual symphony – colour, taste, aroma and the music of nature are draped over my shoulders by the Lover of my soul.  The hairs on my arm stand on end and tingle at this blanketing touch of the Divine and I am captivated. I am here. I am aware. I am.

1 comment:

Elisabeth said...

Oh, Annie. I love the way you write. And I want what you're describing SO bad.