Self-medication: a dose of salts and a kiss to all the world, not necessarily in that order

[tamaranth]

Pandora, Royal Festival Hall
Originally uploaded by tamaranth

I've self-medicated twice this week: Beethoven and Epsom salts. It seems to have helped a great deal.

On Tuesday I went with ladymoonray, swisstone and K's mum to hear the Philharmonia's opening concert at the refurbished Royal Festival Hall.

The first half featured the unrelentingly modern 'Adagio, Fugue and Mänadentanz, Hans Werner Henze's take on Bacchae under theinfluence of W H Auden. This one did not go plunk as much as expected, but it was unpleasantly reminiscent of Stravinsky. Members of the audience were dropping like flies, too.

After pink drink on the terrace overlooking the Thames, we returned for 65 minutes of (speeded-up) Beethoven. (The Ninth Symphony, played according to original dynamics, is 74 minutes long, and this is allegedly why the first CDs could hold ~74 minutes of music ...)

I was horribly afraid that I wouldn't enjoy the performance. The Ninth is a work I usually find spiritually and emotionally uplifting, glorious and spine-tingling (which indicates, according to Robert Graves, 'the presence of the Muse') and vastly enjoyable. But.

But the last concert (Beethoven Piano #3) that I attended left me in tears (locked for some personal detail, but you get the idea), and not the good sort, because it hadn't reached me at all. And if I can't be moved by the music I love then I have clearly been abducted by aliens and would like the real me returned NOW kthx.

It was such a relief to feel myself being ... I want to say 'lifted', but 'transformed' or 'magnified' would do; 'switched into more dimensions' ... Anyway, the music caught me up, and I didn't care about the bad breath of the man next to me, or my sore feet, or the occasional off-beat note (von Dohnányi was going a bit too fast for some of the orchestra's liking) or anything except what Beethoven had done and what the Philharmonia, orchestra and choir, were doing with it.

Afterwards K and I had another drink and hung out in the RFH foyer, where there was live music and a selection of Swarovski-sponsored Art -- new takes on the concept of 'chandelier'. Wonderful reflections and refractions (one objet, crystal and light, blazed in glorious primaries when reflected against a dark background). My favourite is the one in the photo, 'Pandora', which continually refigures itself: each strand of crystals moves up and down independently, computer-controlled.

On Wednesday, after an unnecessarily werky werking-from-home day, I headed up to London Town again for a dose of salts (or pickling, if you prefer): a trip to Floatworks courtesy of the wonderful ladymoonray.

I was quite impressed with the individual pickling pods, which were gleaming and shiny and curved like a prop from an 80s SF TV series. And, surprisingly, I had no problem with shutting myself into an enclosed space, with the light off, for an hour. There was some refreshingly unannoying New Age music for the first ten minutes and the last five: apart from that I could hear only my own breathing and the occasional noise of someone walking past outside the (locked) door.

I didn't really drift off mentally: too much babble in my head, like a forgetful old lady in the corner. But I did find it surprisingly easy to relax my muscles and let myself bob around like a cork. The only light was an arc of dim orange light around the lid of the pod: without it I'd have been completely disoriented, because the water -- a concentrated solution of magnesium sulphate, tastes vile, stings like mad in eyes or on broken skin -- supported me so entirely that there was no sense of movement.

Oddly, the point at which I really did feel like a disembodied brain swimming around in nutrient soup (see Tanith Lee's Drinking Sapphire Wine for details) was when the light came gradually back on, and the music started up again. I wonder if I'd have managed to drift away from babbling-brain more thoroughly if I'd had music and light all the way through: white noise to drown out the babble and humdrum.

The only ill effect I suffered was the apparent dissolution of my ankle joints. I was hobbling badly after we left, and my ankles are still behaving as though I'd done a strenuous fencing workout. No pain, just ... jelly.

I am ever so impressed with the lack of tension in my shoulders (even after an extremely trying journey home and a rather later night than I'm comfortable with, mid-week). Definitely a case of "again, again!"

Comments

Floating

[ladymoonray.livejournal.com]

We will definitely go again, it was wonderful. Though I do hope not to have quite so many bits of skin damage next time, and at least one working knee so I can get out of the damn thing :)

Re: Floating

[surliminal.livejournal.com]

I've always wanted to try that *envy".
fancy a whole girly spa day thing sometime?

Re: Floating

[ladymoonray.livejournal.com]

I did look into a spa day when I was planning this, but then I remembered that T wanted to try floating. I would sort of like to do it, but they're so expensive for what you get. I could always save up, I suppose :)