February 2020

I recently spent an afternoon at Spa World. Once you arrive and disrobe, you enter a wide, open room. There is a large pool in the center of the room. Shower heads and bars of soap pepper the front wall, while hot tubs of varying degrees are nestled along the far wall. The floor and wall are covered with tile, and the air is warm and steamy. There is a murmur of women's voices everywhere, as well as a louder rhythm beating; a fountain crashes hard into the middle of the pool. The room is full of people wearing only an orange, waterproof bracelet given to each of us upon entry. The bracelet is attached to a key which opens our locker; the portal back into the land of the clothed.
As I enter through glass doors, the sight of skin bathes my eyes. Never have I seen so much skin. A lightness enters my heart, as I soak up the beauty that surrounds me. Human animals are stunning. My friends and I walk to the far side of the room and sink our bodies down to our necks in hot water. We smile at each other, and at strangers, including a familiar, chubby baby. The next several hours are spent without barriers of body or soul. Being naked together easily ushers us into conversation about what it means to belong. It invites questions like 'how often do you cry?' and it lures us into a large common area where we share in a bowl of beans, ice shavings, and sweet syrup. We lay in a hot room where amethyst covers a rounded ceiling, all the way down to the ground. We are warm and happy.

The sun begins to set outside and our time together is coming to an end. I wish for such disarming connection for others. I quietly ask the universe to bring me more opportunities to perfect the art of being naked.