In which I am undone by love

It’s no secret that I love ila products.  In a world of fudges and half-truths and compromises, this stuff shines out pure and clear with integrity and authenticity. Okay, it’s not cheap but then, more and more I think I’d rather have one truly wonderful thing than a whole bunch of cheap bits of nonsense.  In the field of beauty we’re sold so much crap, truly we are. So many lies.  Anyhow, this isn’t a sales pitch – like I’ve said before, they don’t pay me. There are just some businesses that so chime with me that I love to shout about them. 

But, funny thing, I’d never had an ila treatment.  

‘Let’s fix that,’ said Philly Vass, their adorable PR.  Okay, I can hear your thoughts - you think all PRs are grasping bitches who only love you when you’re a columnist on a daily?  Well, mainly you have a good point but Philly really is different.  She turns down lucrative accounts if they don’t chime with her core values. And she’s stuck with me over my year of being entirely bonkers.  Plus she has a pug puppy.  Enough said.

‘You have to see Holly.’ 

‘I do?’

‘Yes.’ 

‘Okay.’

So we had a coffee at Paul in Marylebone and then she walked me to Gielly Green (one of those slightly intimidating hairdressing places) and introduced me to Holly who was about half my size and not remotely intimidating.

‘My job is done,’ said Philly with a knowing smile, and left us together.  
I felt nurtured before I’d even taken off my boots. If you’re a spa or massage virgin, I beg you, please, go see Holly.  One thing I think so many therapists and spas get wrong is that they don’t tell you exactly what to do.  And I figure that’s what puts a lot of people off.  But with Holly, there is no guesswork involved. There is no need to do anything in fact except let go and just be.

Her room was a small temple, a womb-like cocoon of sensory soothing. Softly lit, warm, embracing. Scents enveloped me – some familiar, some not so. And music, one of the gently captivating ila CDs that I love so much.

As I sat swathed in a thick towel, she knelt and bathed my feet in such a rapt honouring that it almost brought tears to my eyes. It put me in mind of Mary washing the feet of Christ.  Her attention was totally there – I felt noticed and blessed – elevated yet humbled. Then I lied me down on the couch, naked under the softest, warmest fluffy towels (honestly, you don’t feel exposed or weird, trust me on this) and she started the ‘kundalini’ massage.

I’ll be honest, I’m not sure what I expected but it wasn’t this.  She didn’t say a word, just started touching my back, so so gently.

No! 

I wanted to beg her to go harder, dig deeper. As I've said before, I like my massage hard and tough: it’s why I tend to prefer male bodyworkers. But then the fight just kind of went out of me and I was simply slayed by gentleness, beguiled by softness.

It felt like some kind of initiation into an ancient feminine mystery. A benediction. A soft yet insistent teasing apart of all the toughness, a dismantling of all the harsh walls. She got under my defences, not by smashing them down but by soft insistent love. 

Strange images flashed up.  At one point I ‘saw’ her extract some horrible insect. It was so clear and visceral I nearly started off the couch. And oh,when she touched my heart area, there were deep stabs of pain - not from her hands, but oh so deep inside. I was undone. Tears rose and then quietly dispersed.

When she was finally finished (oh too soon, too soon) and I sat sipping a glass of water, she looked at me with huge compassion.

‘Tell me,’ I whispered. ‘Tell me.’

‘You’re so guarded,’ she said softly. ‘Your poor, poor heart.’

I nodded. ‘I know.’

And as I sat on the top of the 73 bus on the way back to Jane’s flat, I felt a wave of sadness wash over me - like the rain outside. And no, don’t start thinking, ‘Oh, poor Jane, how awful’ because really it was lovely. An opening up.  A softening. Because I’d been building up my carapace again, thinking I needed to be oh so tough; to not feel, not trust, not dare to open. And something a friend had said had been worrying at me. She said she was trying to think more like a man, to compartmentalize, to attach less importance to the whole experience of relating. And while I understand that, I felt, very strongly it wasn’t the path for me.

I have been oh so masculine in so many ways in my life, oh so tough. So in control. I’ve dismissed and diminished the soft feminine, the woman in me. Maybe it’s time for her to smile shyly and emerge from the shadows. 

“In the midst of loneliness, in the midst of fear, in the middle of feeling misunderstood and rejected, is the heartbeat of all things, the genuine heart of sadness… We think that by protecting ourselves from suffering, we are being kind to ourselves. The truth is, we only become more fearful, more hardened, and more alienated.”  The love that will not die, Pema Chodron. 

Wild and free...

I have worked sixteen hour days for the past fortnight.  Minimum.  I have eaten at my desk (when I’ve remembered to) and fallen asleep over the keyboard (yes, when I woke up my nose was indented with the letter B and the screen was flashing ominously). One night I even dreamed I got through a whole shedload of stuff and woke feeling a profound sense of satisfaction – until I realised, with sinking heart, that it had all been emailed and filed in the land of sleep. 

And what do I have to show for all this effort?  Not a whole lot, truth be told. A few ‘maybes’; a couple of ‘possiblys’; quite a lot more ‘no thank yous’ but mainly... silence. 

Never mind. You carry on, right?  You don’t give up. And all the time you’re putting on a brave face, smiling and laughing and pretending everything is hunky-dory.  But by heck sometimes it’s hard to keep one’s spirits up. And, I’ll be honest, I think I may be running out of steam.  Which is why I can’t wait for Friday. 

Come Friday I am waving my credit card at the train station and taking myself up to London.  My bestest friend Jane (she of chicken-eating spider fame) is off to Southwold for her own version of escape. ‘Do you want to come?’ she said, a while back. ‘I’d love to,’ I said. ‘But, could I borrow your flat instead?’  ‘Of course you can,’ she said.  The way she does.

Cos, see, I had people I needed to meet in London in May.  But, the way these things go, the best-laid plans go astray and the right people will be in the wrong places.  You have to laugh, right? 

Ben Barnett

Still. I shall go nonetheless.  I am hoping to meet up with my old editor from HarperCollins and I'm going to be reviewing some luscious treatments.  So I get to experience the Kundalini massage at Gielly Green which uses products from the divine ila-spa range.  And I also get to meet Ben Barnett who comes highly recommended by Nicola Hughes. Ben does what he calls ‘three dimensional bodywork’ using a hydrotherm massage bed.  As he works on you he also takes you on a guided visualisation.  ‘Think of two words that capture how you want to feel,’ he said in his email.  Eh what?  ‘You know, energised, peaceful, positive, that kind of thing...’

Um. How do I want to feel?  In two words.  Just two words?  That stopped me in my tracks.

And the negatives flooded in.  It’s easy to know what I don’t want. I’m fed up of feeling tired, overstretched, underappreciated, washed up, old, broke, misunderstood, sad, angry, frustrated, bored. Okay so that's a bit melodramatic but I really would like to stop feeling like I’m banging my head against the proverbial brick wall again and again and again. I'd love not to feel the need to pander to delicate egos all the time. I’m sick of walking on eggshells.  I’m fed up to the back teeth of people making promises they have no intention of keeping. And I am really really really tired of being cold.

But that’s no good for Ben, is it?  Yet the positives just sounded too floaty, too wishy washy.  Energized – yeah great, but for what?  Serene? I’m not a freaking lake. 

What did you use? I asked Nicola. ‘Proud and peaceful,’ she snapped back instantly. Nicola is always so certain, so sure. Peaceful? Nah, I’m bored of peaceful. Proud? Nah, I don’t really have any self-esteem issues that would warrant that.

So… what then? Rich? Sounds greedy.  I don’t need rich anyhow, just solvent would be nice. But that makes me sound like glue.  Abundant?  Vegetation springs to mind.

And then a whole pile of music crashed through my head.  Images from the third book in my series of novels accompanied them. Wide open roads. Deserts. An open-top car with music blaring out.   

There you go, said my subconscious.  There you go.  Two words for you, my lovely.  Wild and Free.  Wild and Free.  

Lie back and relax...

Okay, so this may surprise you but I don’t believe in January detoxing. I don’t believe in harsh resolutions.  I don’t believe in punishing regimes.  Sheesh, guys, this is January.  JANUARY!  Some of you are lucky enough to live in lovely warm places but for those of us who don’t, the last thing our bodies need is being brutalised right now.

I worry that by focusing on this idea of ‘detoxing’ as a short sharp process, we’re missing out on longterm health and wellbeing.  Far better, surely, to shift your mindset so you simply don’t want to tox your body, your mind, your spirit anymore?

And, anyhow, when it’s cold outside and lonely inside, the last thing you need is more stricture. Which is why I buck the trend and make January pampering month.  I don’t eat crap but I do tend to eat slightly more than usual; warm nourishing food. Alright, so that’s mainly dhal – because, dear God, I do love dhal.  Yes, I work out and I am beyond grateful that Zumba and Kettlercise have started up again.  But you wouldn’t catch me pounding the pavements at dawn (but, hey, if you enjoy it, go for it).

Those of you who know me will know I’m not remotely high maintenance.  Even if I weren’t broke I wouldn’t spend a fortune on clothes or stuff generally.  If I lost all my worldly goods tomorrow it wouldn’t really bother me – in fact, I’d likely feel quite liberated.  But the one thing I would lament would be my bath. 

I figure the world is divided between those who shower and those who bath.  Don’t get me wrong: if you’re hot and sweaty after a morning workout, the shower’s the place. But, come evening, my before bedtime ritual always involves a hot deep bath.  Immersion in water.  Total immersion in water – yeah, sometimes I go under and make like a mermaid…it’s a habit started in childhood and hard to break. J  But mainly I just float.

Y’know how I was talking about being solutions the other day? Well, water is the universal solvent.  A glass of water is charged particles dancing – a fandango of minerals and elements.  We are composed of 85 percent water and water makes up nine tenths of our blood, plasma, lymph, urine, saliva…even our cerebrospinal fluid, even our synovial fluid.

Check out any creation story and water will be there…  Check out pretty well any ancient culture and there will be rituals for bathing. Check out any form of spirituality and water flows through.  Look at the work of Japanese photographer Masuro Emoto who photographed the effects of loving words and prayers versus harsh and harming words and thoughts on frozen water crystals.  The thoughts that harmed produced forbidding whirls while the prayer created lacelike formations. Check out old Leonard Orr who discovered rebirthing in his tub.  Look all over the world – from the Mayan cenotes to the banias of Russia; from the Turkish hammam to the Jewish mikvah; from Hindu temple bathing to the Japanese cult of the bath.

Ah, I could go on and on.   There are a million and one ways you can bathe. A gazillion rituals and routines for physical health and psychological wellbeing.  Me?  I tend just to soak and muse; to relax into the breath and to let my mind wander in pleasant places.

Yes, I add unguents.  Of course I do. But never nasty synthetic stuff – I don’t get why anyone would want to bath in chemicals.  I’m supremely lucky in that I get sent a fair amount of bath products for testing.  Some I quietly lose to the local raffle but some I just adore...

These are my keepers...  

Aromatherapy Associates – I still adore their Deep Relax bath oil but lately I’ve been quite turned onto their Support blend (lavender and peppermint) 

Ila-spa – Sheer, total decadence.  Their rose Bath Oil for Glowing Radiance is an all-time favourite. One of these days I must also test out their salts. 

Weleda – Seriously good prices for lovely pure scents.  Their lavender is a world away from sickly synthetics – deeply calming. 

REN – It’s the Morrocan Rose otto bath oil here – divine. Complete the experience by using their scrub beforehand for silky skin. 

Connock London – Their soothing bath oil is heaven – a more exotic scent than the others with oils of kukui, macadamia and tamanu. I massage this one into my skin first and then soak in the bath – it leaves the whole body decadently soft. 

Taer – This Icelandic company has a range that looks as beautiful as it smells and feels.  I’m in thrall to the Glacier Bath Oil that somehow makes your body feel hot and cold at the same time! Not to be used during pregnancy or if you’re breastfeeding.  

Think those are the main ones. Having road-tested Pukka Herb’s (www.pukkaherbs.com) new ayurvedic skincare range (it’s excellent) I’m really hoping they will come up with some bath goodies soon.

However, if you can’t run to purpose-bought potions, never fear.  If I run out, there’s no way I reach for the synthetic stuff. I’d rather use a couple of drops of essential oil mixed with a little milk.  Or pop a few drops of essential oil (lavender or citrus scents work well) on a handful of salts (a mix of sea salt and Epsom salts works well).

Then just lie back….and dream…   Happy January. 

Mothers and gifts

I know it’s not Mother’s Day. Not yet. But I figure I’d better blog this now as I tend to get a bit emotional on the day itself. My mum died several years ago and her birthday is also coming up, so it’s a funny old time of year for me. She was so totally a spring person – up until her last illness she was always the epitome of optimism; a ‘can do’ person.

She believed in positive thought, in karma, in God, in gods, in the unseen, the ineffable, in synchronicity and miracles. She loved her children, her dogs, her garden. She adored yoga, tofu, mushrooms, watercress and gin. She listened to Bach, Enya, Loreena McKennit, Leonard Cohen and The Rolling Stones. She danced around her kitchen; she sang; she primal screamed.  She kept a copy of The Course in Miracles by her bed and devoured Rudolf Steiner. She was a sucker for sexy underwear and luxurious nighties. She always kept a glint in her eye. She had cold feet, a warm heart and a will of steel.

She left school at 14 and worked pretty well solidly all her life. She trained as a homeopath in her fifties and ran a business in her 60s and 70s. When the business crashed she merrily sold everything she owned and said ‘Ah well, nobody died. It’s just stuff.’

Having said that, she did love stuff. She was terribly vain – with reason as she was beautiful and had a cracking figure (even at 80). She loved nice clothes and adored gorgeous beauty products. Buying her presents was always a delight. I do miss that so much. So I figured, what the hell? Mum, if you’re around or about, here’s what I’d be thinking about getting you this year...

Something body-licious...  She would have adored ila-spa as she would only use totally organic products on her skin.  She would love pretty much the entire range, I think - though maybe the rose scents the most. I'd get her a couple of CDs too - she'd lap up the chants.  And probably throw in some incense - as she loved that as well.

Aromatherapy Associates was an old favourite of hers - I'd get her the skincare range as she would appreciate the natural yet powerful anti-ageing effects of their creams and oils. 
Come to think of it, she would also love Skin Science - it's a new range and their Bio Active Quicklift Mask would appeal - it's dubbed the 'Lunch break lift'. She was always in two minds about cosmetic surgery - this get-out clause would probably make her smile.

Mum felt the cold - she was a chilly vata type - so I always looked out for lovely warm scarves and cosy slippers and so on.  She would adore one of RoseBlack's gorgeous velvet-edged cashmere scarves - beautiful and warm!
These really are just the best.  I have a ton of their velvet scarves in every colour under the sun and one of these days I'm going to treat myself to one of the cashmere ones too... 

I think Mum tried every kind of natural face stuff.  She made friends with the beauty therapist who worked a few doors down from her and was her guinea-pig for every new fad going.  She would have been well into Eva Fraser's facial exercises and would have practiced assiduously - once she got into something, you couldn't pull her off it.  So I reckon this DVD from Victoria Health (one of her all-time favourite companies) would have made her smile....and grimace...and pout....
I'd probably nab her some hyaluronic acid and some HEAL cream while I was shopping there...maybe even a Duckula from the gift section.


  
She would have ADORED a Prana Mat from Fushi.  TApparently it helps in boosting the body’s natural energy flow by stimulating the body’s acupressure points. Allegedly it "wakes up" your body and directs blood flow to the organs that need it the most. The tiny lotus spikes stimulate active nerve centres and intensify the local blood flow and lymph circulation.

Yeah, essentially it's a bed of nails.  But, see, she would have loved that.  Hardcore stoic, my mum.  Actually she would have loved everything at Fushi - if you're into natural health and wellbeing, it's packed with goodies. 

Ah, how I'd love to send Mum to my favourite facialist, aromatherapist, acupuncturist and all round lovely healing person ever, Annee de Mamiel.  Annee is unbelievable.  Honestly.  She lives in NYC now and her client list is pretty well jam-packed for her visits to London but, seriously, if you can somehow sneak your way onto her couch, you will think you've died and gone to heaven early.  I would have LOVED Mum to have experienced this nourishing, healing, soul-affirming treatment.  Oh, and you come out looking ten years younger too! 
But, if you can't manage it, check out her seasonal oils - they aren't cheap but by heck they do incredible things to your skin.