Living Waters Spa (39)

I drove off toward Desert Hot Springs in the morning, excited to be on an adventure. The inn was sparse and white, the pool glistening in the morning light, cactus and a spray of blossoms at the edges of the courtyard, the sky calling from everywhere, big and blue and endless. Mt. San Jacinto held court from a distance, visible in the higher clear glass panes of the windbreak, the lower part frosted for privacy. Because of the mountain's presence, because I couldn't see the valley but could sense it below us, I spent all day with the strange illusion of water spread out beyond the frosted glass. I never shook the feeling I was soaking in the mineral springs in San Juan Cosalá with the lake and the volcano beyond.

I have to admit it did not compare to my favorite hot springs in Mexico, but it was a delightful day. I liked the owners, enjoyed my interactions with the other guests. I am happy to know now I can trust in the caliber of people the place attracts, the kind of energy they foster. I especially enjoyed a young woman who worked there and her fiance, charmed by their goodness, their bright open faces. And I had a long rambling conversation with a young man, Justin, who was off to Hawaii for a writing and improv workshop with Anne Lamott.

My time there was sweet and social and restorative. I count it a luxury to soak naked in warm mineral water, to lie in the sun, nibble on goat brie and crackers, eat roasted peppers, read the newspaper, daydream. There is something so exquisite about the combination of sun and water and our own skin, a sensory feast and a prayer both, an offering and a gift. The unexpected pleasure in company rounded it out, made the gift more full. And the dreamy, yearning presence of San Juan Cosalá made it something else, as well. It made the day something just a bit otherworldly, made it something more.