Bangkok

Last night I arrived in Bangkok. The hotel is elegant with fountains, marble, lights, men in uniforms standing about to take luggage, answer questions. An event was starting in one of the large, chandeliered rooms and the lobby was full of formally clad Thai's, women in long evening gowns, men in suits walking by. I felt large and grubby in my white blouse with the coffee stain and baggy black travel pants. However, this discomforting thought only circled around but did not make a nest in my head. I was pulled back into the moment. Such luxury. I was startled by the opulence, the fine detail of the clothes, of the women's make-up and polished hair coiled on their heads, of the waterfall that was visible through the glass wall of the lobby, of the silence of carpeted floors, of the cool, air-conditioned atmosphere that rendered the hot humid air a memory.

After finding my room, I changed into my swimming suit. I was determined to go swimming. My shoulder is getting better and I was hopeful that I would be able to do a full crawl stroke without pain. I found the hexagon shaped pool. As soon as I walked into the night and heard the water fall; I felt it--the joy. It surprised me. I hadn't felt such joy in such a while. My emotions have been caught in a predictable range that didn't include this visceral delight in just being, the sheer pleasure of being alive, in this place, in this moment. The night was still hot and humid, the pool was deserted except for the young man who provided a release form for me to sign and towels to drape over the chaise. He offered me a drink of my choice. I quickly signed the form and waved him off. I was for the water. It was cool with no obvious scent of chlorine. My shoulder will still not tolerate a full stroke but I can almost move it though the complete range of motion. Like the joy, I can feel movement in the direction of wholeness. For 15 minutes or so, I swam back and forth doing the breast stroke, heart beat pounding by the end of it as I swam without reprieve. And then I started playing, diving under the water, floating on my back before arching back and under, circling around to return to air, over and over, porpoise dives, then back dives recalling the joy of movement. I finally slowed, swam over the the stairs and walked out of the pool.

For some time I just lay on the chaise looking at the night sky, the lit towers of other high rise buildings around, letting the night air play on my skin. Where I had not toweled off, the water drops remained with no hint of evaporation. The breeze was almost cool on my skin.

As I got up to go, the young man came walking over. I thanked him for the gift of the swim as if it was his pool, his hotel, his night of warm moist air.

"You looked so happy," he said.

I laughed, "Oh," I said, "I am."

I put my hands together mirroring his hands and we bowed to each other.