Remember the sauna? I know, it was started so long ago, we practically forgot about it ourselves. Well, just me really, Clay hasn't stopped thinking about it, he just hasn't had a spare moment to work on it. Until recently. And now, with a finished sauna, and me no longer pregnant (apparently they're a no-no when you're preggie), we've been basking in the warm, woodsy heat of the sauna at least once a week. It sure makes winter more bearable.
There's something sort of primal about the sauna; the dimly lit, cave-like interior; the elemental smell of the heat and the wood; the way you leave behind not only your clothes, but the worries and demands on your time that somehow seem so pressing only moments before you step inside.
It's a funny thing about the sauna, time doesn't seem to hold the same properties once inside. On occasion I've only been in there a mere ten minutes, yet it seems as if time lengthens like melted honey. Other times 30 or 40 minutes can easily drift quickly by.
"When I sit in the sauna," Clay says, "I feel like a king." It's true. Life just doesn't get much better than the simple bodily pleasures: good food, soft beds, healthy bodies. It's a richness that doesn't necessarily come from dollars and cents (this sauna, in fact, was pretty much free, made all from reclaimed materials and the wiring work was a trade). I'm often reminded of the rustic tujs I bathed in while living in Guatemala. Like a stone sauna, one would crouch in through the low door. The same combination of hot rocks and water turned the somewhat ugly, cinder block structure into something of beauty. No spa treatment I've experienced comes close to the relaxing, rejuvenating effect of a simple tuj (or sauna!).