phenomenology of ice
there's this onsen in a quiet part of shinjuku, with hot baths of different degrees, different styles, but my mind is besieged by the inevitable cold plunge, an unassuming ice bath, in an unassuming corner, my enemy. It's on my mind as I absorb the hot water, I dread it.
I rush in, sink my body in an instant. my body is cold, really cold.
deep breaths, time slows. you feel every second. you try to clear your mind, just feel, feel every minuscule interaction, the cold water's touch, shaking and pins under the surface.
thoughts of leaving flurry, but you simply acknowledge them, toss them in a jar, and put them away, —it's just a thought. it's not so bad, you tell yourself. no knee-jerk reaction, your body is fine.
and then, someone enters, movement, creates another cold rush. you are annoyed, but you see it for what it is. thoughts of leaving creep back, but, again, you simply acknowledge them.
after a while, weirdly, your body warms, acclimatizes. it becomes easy, and time speeds up. before you know it, your five minutes are up.
but it didn't feel like five minutes. the first minute was the longest, and each new arrival punctuates time, dilating moments. but in between, there is flow.
so it was more like a very long minute, long seconds, and then short minutes. that's the phenomenology of ice baths,
akin to our great fights. the before is hard, the genesis is hard, long moments of struggle, but in between, there is flow.
and perhaps it's disingenuous to call it easy, but you feel right at place.