Twice a year, I go here:
To do this:
With this guy:
Who also happened to perform my wedding ceremony, in which I married this guy:
Which is wonderful.
But I'm ready to go to the coast. I've had one day off since the beginning of July, if you don't count sick days, which I don't. I've been writing and reviewing marketing content for more than 50 hours a week, every single g-ddamn week. I've become so intimate with the nooks and crannies of the conference rooms at the office that there is nothing new for me to discover there.
So off I go to Esalen.
Organic food, endless processing (Esalen is very gestalt-y), a soft down comforter on chilly ocean mornings. No phone. No computer. Hardly any booze. Ornamental chickens. And humidity. I will plump right up. The crow's feet will disappear. My hair will get curly. I'll spend hours naked in hot springs with people whose names I do not -- and will not ever -- know. And we'll weep when we part at the end of the week.
Send me now.
