Sunday, July 17, 2011

Tune-Up Tunes

Time for my biennial massage. Friends have recommended monthly muscle tune-ups, but it’s taken me 20 years to work my massage frequency up to once every two years, so monthly is probably a ways off. I show up at the local chain spa today, make my way through the brassy manicure, pedicure, and hair styling hubbub, open the magic door made of crystal pebbles, and tiptoe into the sacred sanctuary of satisfied sighs.

Two can lights are about as bright as one dying firefly, and I squint my way to an ottoman (what, they can’t even afford chairs?) to await my appointed time. Tibetan flutes trill to attract nearby mountain goats, I suppose, since I can’t imagine them attracting anything else, especially me. Who decided mountain goat music is conducive to relaxing? To take my mind off goats, I pick up a coffee table book on dream vacations. Despite the dim lighting, I manage to view a photo of Monet’s lush garden at Giverny and a few other appealing destinations. I flip quickly past any pages trying to lure me to the Himalayas.

Finally, my massage therapist rescues me and ushers me into a private massage room, where thankfully, different music plays. She explains the myriad ways she can tailor the massage to my needs using all their new techniques, which oh by the way, cost more. I wish she would tailor the music to my tastes, but I do not pipe up about this. Spa music is annoyingly bland, more like miscellaneous single tones than beautifully blended notes.

Perhaps today’s audio wallpaper is designed to empty clients’ minds. But I want to empty out the worries AND imagine pleasant scenes as I relax. So I do, despite uninspiring music. One quasi-orchestral “tune” takes me to an ornate white carriage ride through cobblestone streets of Vienna. A series of plinking sounds then transports me to a Cambodian rice paddy, where I stroll barefoot, watery soil burbling between my toes. Harp strums lift me to a puffy white cloud, where I float above a color riot of flowers. A few more such forays into fantasy, and my time is up. 

Sorry my wonderful muscle-tuning time is over, I am also glad to escape before any snake-charming music comes on. Snakes and mountain goats—not my things, in life or in music. As I pay on my way out, I hear another client ask the spa cashier, “Can you put glitter in my hair?” Hmmm. What would the audio backdrop be for that service—fireworks whooshes, sizzles, and booms?


tandemingtroll said...

I have started attending yoga classes to get my body toned up. The instructor plays the same kind of bland music. Once, however, she made the mistake of playing a Jim Brickman album of lullabies and children's songs. No one was able to "empty themselves completely" that night because we were all mentally singing the songs, though it was relaxing. I am enjoying the yoga and bring a scripture or song fragment on which to focus during our "emptying" times. God is proving that He can meet me anywhere!

I loved the pipe pun!

Mary Sorrentino said...

What a smile-producing memoir of your visit to the Spa! Too cute! I love the wonderful word-pictures you created to take me with you on your musically inspired "mind-trip." Say, did you notice??? I put the period INSIDE the quotation marks! :o)

I love how your writing always makes me smile!

Blessings my friend!