Escapism

On escapism, self-soothing behaviors,and wellness experiences.

Through foggy eyes I watched the sunset arrive with pink and yellow clouds that were brighter than the fruit in my cocktail. I watched the sun go down with drunken thoughts. I can’t believe this drink was $2. That guy is so sexy. This music is better than anything that plays in New York. I chewed the last of the passionfruit pieces and sucked the alcohol out of the lime wedge, and slammed my empty glass on a high table outside of the bar. There were people everywhere, happier than I had ever seen a group of people be happy; the air had a sweet, humid, and smoky smell. This prompted me to take out one of the Brazilian cigarettes I bought upon arriving. I lit one and unbuttoned the top button from my linen shirt and watched the people dance.

I wasn’t sunburnt yet but I wanted to be. I would soon be joining the dancers, but my jet lag and several drinks required me to regain my senses, inspiring the cigarette and moment of self-reflection. I love traveling alone. I love that my hostel is nearby, and that no one else has checked into the room yet so I’ll be able to stumble in drunk and not worry about waking anyone up. I love that I can wake up early and go swimming. I just got here and I’m trashed and smoking too much but I love Brazil. The music entranced me as it made my body move and brought me to the street, where I immediately joined hands with two women and began to dance until the sunrise, ascending with deep orange and bottle blue.

SMACK SMACK SMACK … SMACK SMACK SMACK!

I flinch and am pulled out of my Brazilian fantasy and remember that I am inside of a sauna at a bathhouse in Flatiron. The smell of essential oils envelopes my face in a hot wave of wet air, and the music gets louder. I’m sweating profusely, and I can feel a drop of sweat rolling down my neck and between my shoulderblades, down my back and into my speedo. I open my eyes to investigate the source of the noise that has broken me out of my daydream: a petri dish of Murray Hill meatheads practicing some sort of somatic slapping during the 15 minute intensive sauna session.

I roll my eyes and get the feeling that they’re doing whatever Wim Hof wellness ritual bullshit they’ve learned on YouTube, just incorrectly. The sauna session is known as aufguss, a ritual of Germanic origin involving essential oil filled snowballs that get thrown on the hot stones while an attractive person flings a towel around to move the hot fragrant air to the participants. It’s not my first time here - my friend Fay works at this bathhouse and gets me in for free. I get a sick pleasure from being here at no cost, while these rich guys batter themselves like baboons to get every penny out of their wellness experience.

After the aufguss, everyone is led to the cold plunge. I follow them and submerge myself, save my head and neck. I breathe in slowly and exhale even slower and stay in for as long as possible, this time elapsing one minute. I leave the cold plunge and sit on the marble slab bench and feel the effects of it all. Physically, my whole body tingles and buzzes with a slow frequency, like a tuning fork. Mentally, I feel clear and empty.

Fay is generous to take me here so often, and I’m grateful that our biweekly catch up includes such a luxurious spa treatment and a discounted meal at the cafe inside the building. We rotate between the neutral soaking pools, steam rooms, and hot tubs, briefing each other on our gossip, secrets, and deeper spiritual things.

Whenever I’m thinking too much I close my eyes and join my higher self on the shore of a river, and watch the river of my thoughts flow by.

She told me this before we entered the aufguss room and a hot guy started playing Brazilian music. So my mind journey to Rio was partially inspired by Fay’s mantra, one that Aquarians are quite good at coming up with. Her advice was prompted by my usual neuroses of the week: Hinge dates, feeling fat (heightened by being in a speedo in a room full of jacked finance bros), and feeling unsatisfied with my career.

I imagined myself sitting at this river of my thoughts. My higher self is next to me and is entirely made of stars - translucent and purple with the aesthetic of a galaxy-themed Fortnite skin or 2016 leggings. My higher self doesn’t talk to me, but rather motions with their hand to the river of my thoughts. I watch closely: unproductive, circular thoughts around my love life, my health, and body-image. I watch them flow down the river, and shockingly, I immediately feel better.

We sit at the restaurant upstairs and speak less words than we did in the saunas. We’re starving, and I had recently told myself that I would eat less so that I could lose a few pounds, so I was extra hungry. Fay’s mantra, and my mind journey to Brazil snapped me out of my random spell of eating less. I realized how inane that was and that if I tried to starve myself thinner, I would gain all the weight back.

Our food came: miso chicken wings, charred cabbage, green beans, and a sweet potato. I felt immediately better after eating and felt grateful for the whole experience, and forgave the Murray Hill meatheads for their somatic slapping. After all, we tend to convince ourselves we have control over our own lives - whether you’re trying to starve yourself thinner, go on a mind journey, or hitting yourself to be mindful.