The Bathhouse: Part 1

Out-of-body experiences at the Turkish baths.

Created by author with Midjourney

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I feel gravity not as a force pulling me down to Earth’s surface but as a pressing against my left side that must be consciously overcome. It is similar to the sensation I had as a child being swung round and round by my big sister, our hands clasped together and her feet planted firmly on the ground while mine flew through the air as she twirled. Only now, instead of my sister anchoring me in space, my brain is performing that operation once a microsecond. How real is this feeling? I wonder. I attempt to force myself into reality enough to remember what cardinal direction I am facing and what direction that means the earth is supposed to be spinning. I get as far as sun rises in the east, sets in the west before another wave of pristine relaxation smothers me. Fuck it, I think. It has been months since I had an experience like this. I may as well enjoy this instead of turning it into a science experiment.

As the wave of contentment ebbs I become aware of my body. My back is leaning against wet tile and my legs are splayed open, straddling the bench beneath me. My head is tipped back, eyes closed, lips parted. In my sports bra and panties, I wonder briefly how much of my pubic hair is revealed by my splayed legs and if the way my lips are parted is alluring or simply goofy, then decide it doesn’t matter. There seems to be no point in checking - all that matters is the tidal thrum of utter ease. It sweeps and sways and tugs me out of myself and into the moment, the place where everything simply is. There is no me, no body, no self-referential concerns. Inhalation and exhalation are indistinguishable. No boundaries exist - my limbs do not occupy space but are the space.