James had asked us if we’d be interested in going to a hot-cold contrast therapy class with him and Emerald one day that we were here. He sent Patrick the website to Arc Community and we glanced at it and said sure, not really knowing what we were signing up for.
Mike made a joke when he found out we were going. One of those classes, for those kinds of people. Wait, you need someone to guide you through a sauna and an ice bath? Right.
When we arrived on Friday, we changed into our swimsuits and rinsed off, then had a tea in their lounge area, circular tiered seating around a table with incense and fake candles.
“I think that woman has one of those sauna hats,” I whispered to Patrick. His gaze moved to her, a woman in a black one-piece with a yellow felted cap that ended in a point lying on the seat next to her.
Our instructor’s name was Chris. He came and sat with us, a small wooden bucket of water in front of him. As he spoke, he stirred the water, brought a ladleful up, and then let it pour back down into the bucket.
He asked us who had been to Arc before, who had never been in a sauna before, or never done an ice bath. We raised our hands for the latter, to which he replied, “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“I’m going to be asking you many questions today,” he said, “some of which I want you to answer with a hand or a thumbs up or thumbs down. But some questions are just meant for you to answer internally, or for you to simply hold space for.”
He explained that we’d be experiencing varying levels of comfort and discomfort, and advised us to simply greet each new sensation with the words: “Now this… and now this.” Eventually, he assured us, we’d settle into each feeling.
“Like water,” he said, pouring a ladleful back into the bucket. “Water always settles, and yet even then, it’s constantly in motion, the molecules evaporating and condensing.”
I held onto this metaphor through the first 20 minutes in the sauna, as my comfort shifted from pleasant to quite unpleasant. I held onto it in the first ice bath, my first ever, as I focused on my breath instead of the stinging sensation in my legs. I held onto it as I sat outside of the tub, noticing the sensations running through my limbs, akin to the feeling I get during a panic attack, though moving and resolving much faster. I held onto it during the second round in the sauna, when I got teary thinking about my body and heart’s resilience in this session echoing the strength it has shown me through all my greatest challenges.
“Now this,” I told myself as I shuddered violently from the cold during the second ice bath, my jerky movements uncontrollable. “The first ice bath was fine and now this one is miserable.”
We made our way, shivering, back into the sauna to warm up before ending the class. There were eleven of us, including Chris. He invited us to share how we were feeling, what was hard, what felt good. A few spoke, the rest of us nodding and laughing. A small smile stayed on my lips as I was filled with immense gratitude: for the contrast therapy session, for the day in London with my boyfriend and his brother and his brother’s wife, for this last real summer vacation before I embark on a new career journey, for my family and friends, for my health and safety. For all the motion that has come before, and settled, and for all the motion yet to come.
Writing With Abandon 
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