I’m hopelessly addicted to music. Ironically, I live in one of the noisiest cities in the world so I probably should crave uninterrupted quiet and unadulterated peace, and I do when it suits me.
But a majority of the time, I’m listening to some ear-pulsating tune, even if it’s just a hook or chorus that’s on loop in my head.
While loud, blaring music provides a temporary escape from reality, recently I've been looking for a more holistic approach to drowning out yesterday's problems and tomorrow's worries.
Beyond logging out of Twitter, I desperately needed a real break.
I needed to strip away sound, find balance and center everything without the help of Mary Jane, which can sometimes send me spiraling inside every single thought, not out of it.
I opted for another rabbit hole instead: The LUSH Sound Bath, a meditative massage therapy that promotes balance and decreases stress with chimes, soothing notes and vibrations.
But it was less of a seamless cinematic occasion and more of a winding mindf*ck to an actual life-changing moment.
Not your average bath.
At first, I was all nerves and giggles like a girl prepping for first-time anal sex. I mean, my body was in full-system failure as soon as my Red Bull-infused jitters clashed with the startlingly calm environment.
I had to dial up my mind's DJ and request a slow jam just to ease into the process.
It's like the second I wanted to focus, my brain threw a think-of-everything tantrum. And thank God my therapist, Patty, assisted.
I settled into my pre-bath seat for a shot-sized apple-infused drink and gobbled down a cocoa treat in the shape of a mushroom.
They were fine, but I was starving so I don't know if they were actually delicious or if I was just glad to have settled the growling in my tummy. Either way, the tiny morsels ushered me into this experience.
IRL, I don't know how long I was in a dimly lit room, which I must note had a red light glowing before it.
I was miles from the present, held hostage by my consciousness, even though I –– shoes off, jewelry off –– was lying face up on a massage table begging to escape.
The aromas, purposefully both masculine and feminine for balance, were so invigorating, my breathing calmed dramatically (am I dead?).
The sounds sponsored by an English folk band and, predictably, birds (wait, is that a fly buzzing?) had finally silenced my thoughts.
But the mental exercise was so exhausting that I eventually just tuckered out and zoned in.
As a sound bathing virgin, I’m hooked like a crackhead in the 80s.
The soundscape washes over you, practically suspending your entire body within the perfect fifth, a natural melodic point of harmonic resolution.
I couldn't pinpoint when the sound was above or next to me, I just knew I was happily engulfed within an audible trance. I only specifically, vividly recall a stone facial massage you'd probably commit crimes for.
Can I say I found healing? Not sure. But I walked out feeling undaunted by the next day's expectations or the baggage I'd walked in with. I was perfectly aware of the moment.
And it was beautiful.