There's a Korean-style bathhouse and spa in town where you can go and pay a ridiculously low price to have access to unlimited hydrotherapy--sauna, steam, shower, warm bath, cold plunge, repeat in whatever order and as much as you like. So I went. Self-care for my aching body and psyche. Body mechanics at the table are unavoidably abominable, and consciousness is riding a roller coaster through a dark tunnel. It felt important to do.
If I were trying to escape any reminder of bodies, I would have been in the wrong place. Amidst a bunch of walking, soaking, showering, laying, plunging female forms, I couldn't help but see a bunch of Roses. And each time I placed my towel on a surface to lie supine, I became her; my right leg more laterally rotated than my left, my arms by my side, my eyes closed, seeing images of the yellow, fluffy superficial fascia we're exposing flashing on the dark wood slats of the ceiling. I am Rose, and so is the woman across from me in the sauna whose breasts are resting in just the same way as those of the woman on my table.
As we began the day, he showed us all how to proceed with creating the skin from the face. Taking off the mask, so to speak. There's essentially a small TV studio set up with lights and sound and cameras and flat screens so we all can get an amazing look at what he's doing without 50 people trying to crowd around. "This is hard for some of you to watch," he says, reading some reactions from the group. It's one of the first times I've hesitated, almost looked away, and yet when it came time to work I knew that's where I wanted to start. It was the most careful I've cut so far, and somewhere between the cheek and the lower eyelid I started welling up with emotion and slow, soft tears. And pausing. And pausing again. And everyone else was focusing on their own work as I kept assessing my surroundings, not knowing if or when the tears would finally make their way out of my own lower eyelid, and not wanting to have to make an escape but wanting to know I could if I needed to. I just wanted to stay. Right. There.
Eventually I had to leave to change my blade, and when I came back one of my mates started asking about the work I do, and where I got certified for this and that, and who I did training with and blahbittyblahblah. Nothing wrong with what he wanted to know, but totally not matching where I was. And as we finished up for lunch I had the thought that maybe this experience is just going to be deeply personal and that the interactions I have with others just tangential. I don't feel like I need anyone to process with, and yet I wonder if the opportunity will present itself for me to speak to what's happening to another living, breathing human being in a moment like that, like the moment that lasted for eternity when I was with her face. But much like Rose, it just might require someone else wanting to take a peek into me before what's already happening is allowed to be seen.
