The road wound through the darkness, the next bend hiding it from sight. Clinging to the side of the hill, following the easiest path, it was not a road made for speed. Most of the roads in the hills of Northern California are like this. Sharp corners and winding roads. The constant light touch on the brakes and engine braking, or goosing the accelerator to keep speed up and downshifting. The houses crouch on the verge, when there are houses at all. Small lights in the darkness, clustered around any even remotely flat spot.
This is not country you would want to be low on fuel in. I haven’t seen a gas station in miles, let alone one open after dark.
The bus trundles along in the darkness in front of me. Dan handles it with the ease of long familiarity, taking the corners with expert speed. I keep up in my little Civic, which we have affectionately named The Dingy. The lines on the nav lead reassuringly onward, a small flag marking our destination. Harbin Hotsprings. I have visited the place before, last fall. I had quite the insight there, and the chance to practice discerning actual danger from mere discomfort.
One last small town falls away behind us. It is not so very late, and we were able to pick up groceries in town. Fresh bread, and a mysterious jar of what claims to be Pumpkin Butter. We took the time to snack on our new purchases outside the grocery store, and Pumpkin Butter on bread is delicious. Imagine jam made out of the filling of apple pie. That sort of delicious. We licked our lips and took the small backroad out of town, headlights piercing the darkness.
Lights gleamed on the road before us. A sign invited us to slow down, and I was surprised to see the gatehouse of the springs. Dan had to renew his membership, as we had just gotten the one month card last time. As the springs are owned by a “church”, and nudity is an option, everyone who wants to visit the springs must have a membership. Dan paid the ten dollars, and we all paid our $25 a person, and went in.
The springs overcame me that night. I went to the warm pool, which I had recalled as a degree or two below the perfect long term soaking temperature. It was not the case this time. The temperature was perfect, and I felt my skin was a hinderance, the only thing keeping me from dispersing into the water. I propped myself against the wall, using one or two muscles to keep my knees locked, and I cast my mind loose. Thoughts tumbled over themselves, coming to the surface to be examined and then drifting away. I have been troubled lately, with the accusations of a friend hanging about my mind, and the slow draw of missing home. The normal fretting about cars, wondering of The Dingy would make it back to Canada, after all these rough roads and hills. I fretted over the missing headlight, which had caused me to be pulled over once or twice. The cops are very active down here. All these thoughts rose in my mind, all the things I had been fretting over, worried about, some I had been downright twisted with anxiety. I gave them no more than a moment to occupy my mind, and then I pushed them away. Some I found solutions to, some I simply came to peace with. When you cannot do anything to affect other’s perceptions, I suppose you might as well let the worry go. By the time I gave up wakefulness, my mind was more settled than it had been for the last five days.
The next morning, we went back to the pools. I once again relaxed in the warm pool, but managed to hold my self together a bit better. I made my way to the super hot pool again, and eased my way in. I found it hotter than last time, and I felt a slight tinge of distress, that my spiritual realizations of last time had not withstood to this time, enabling me to ignore the distress of temperature extremes and simply plunge into the water. Once I reached that state last time, should it not have stayed there, as an enlightened idea? I had worked so hard last time, should it not have maintained that level?
I resigned myself to a constantly eroding mental bank, and started by dipping my feet into the scaldingly hot water. I clung to the railing, cool air prickling my skin, and stood on the first step of the hot pool. I went down one more step, and was immersed to my knees. There, I noticed that it did not seem to be so very difficult. My skin protested once again that this was far too hot, but my calves were warmer than my feet, so it was not such a shock. Also, I knew I could do this. I had eased into the hot pool once before, it was possible, and I remembered the reasoning that I had taken before. My mental feet trod the path, nimble as goat feet on a steep trail. There, the air was not so cold, and it was only temporary. The water was very hot, but would not kill me. I worked my way down the steps, and waded thru the chest high pool, to stand by the pull up bar and wooden seat attached to the far wall. I stood in the water, soaking up the heat, taking it in my skin, into my body, filling like a cup, slow lassitude suffusing my limbs. When I was full, when the heat filled the cup of my body, lapping at the edge and threatening to spill over, I lifted myself up, reached up and seized the worked metal bar. My muscles contracted gently, sliding over each other like warm silk, and I swung back to sit on the wooden seat, legs still in the water. I felt the heat steam off my skin, a layer of armor between me and the chill autumn air.
I will come back here, again and again. To stimulate my mind, shake myself out of the complacency of “I can’t”.
I can. If only for a little while at a time.
Wherever you are, Be There 