Joie de vivre. Sometimes the stress and strain of everyday living can erode that joy to live until you feel like the walking dead. I can’t really speak for you, but that’s how I felt this afternoon.
Around me all day chaos and drama erupted like Mount Etna with indigestion. The CEO went on the rampage, dishing our warning letters like poisoned Smarties. One poor chap got two in the space of about 3 hours. A designer left in tears after a supplier yelled at her for non-payment, not that she could have anything about it.
The creative director, a Buddhist, tried to inject some rationale Zen into the proceeding, but that didn’t last. His Buddhist principles got chucked out the fourth floor window as I heard him yelling, “Are you out of your ever loving mind!” at the CEO.
Basically, it was the day from the deep depths of a fiery hell.
By the time I escaped, I had a raging migraine and a bone deep exhaustion at facing the traffic on the way home.
At the intersection ahead of me appeared a sign. It was like a light on a dark night illuminating the path. It read “Life Day Spa. Just opened.”
I would be very inconsiderate to have ignored such a blatantly god given sign. You can’t ask for more overt messaging in a time of need. Never one to disobey my instincts and with the desperation only working in advertising can bring, I drove right in and pleaded for a massage.
I was soon enrobed in a soft warm dressing gown and slippers, sipping a cold glass of ice tea and being treated gently, like you might treat someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown. It was very soothing.
Lerato ushered me into the Room of Tranquillity and set about removing me from all earthly matters with an Indian Head Massage. 30 minutes later I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. My headache was a faint memory and I think she managed to get rid of knots in my neck I’ve carried for the last decade.
Indian Head Massages started out in India, imagine that? Seriously, women used to do it on each other to encourage their hair to grow. Narendra Metha brought to the West and extolled its virtues based on Ayurvedic techniques working on the upper back, shoulders, neck, scalp and face. It can help alleviate the symptoms of stress, help you lose weight (not sure about this one), migraines, sinus pain and hair loss! Physically it helps with lymphatic drainage, blood circulation and muscle tension. Psychologically it helps balance the upper three chakras using acupressure points or marmas.
All of which is all very well, but I’ve had some awful Indian Head Massages in the past. Whatever Lerato did in between rubbing heated oil over my back and releasing eon’s worth of tension it was nothing but pure magic. I was able to slip into that beautiful somnambulant state of sheer bliss.
I didn’t have to make small talk and most importantly I didn’t have to listen to bloody Enya. I hate Enya. I have walked out of spas that played Enya. She is not remotely relaxing for me, she is irredeemably annoying, like Dido.
I’ve been to the Life Day Spa in Fourways and I have to say Rosebank is nicer. It is warmer for one thing and more intimate. They also have an amazing floatation pool, which I plan to try out post haste. Apparently, 30 minutes in that and you feel like you’ve slept for 4 hours. Perhaps I should install one in my home. If you can’t beat insomnia you can at least work around it.
By the time I got into my car I felt renewed, revived and ready to face tomorrow’s journey into our nation’s capital. I can’t quite communicate the dread I was carrying for this task, which involves a complicated train journey and hike through city streets wide enough to accommodate two ox wagons. Simply put, I distrust meetings at any place that start with “The Department of…”
But right now, I feel like a limp noodle, I smell like a garden of roses and I plan to sleep like the dead. I deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.