Page 14 - 2019 EMERGING WRITERS FELLOWSHIP ANTHOLOGY1

One night in the baths, I went out alone without my group with the intention of floating.
Nothing else, just floating. I recalled the night before when one of the fellows and I kept

bumping legs, unable to understand our new bodies in this strange water. I spent fifteen
minutes getting the water to the perfect mix of heat and cold, dipped my head back, and

let go. I looked to the stars and up to the Big Dipper, the only constellation I could ever
identify. I remembered Fred’s app giving us the names for the stars we watched twinkle,

only for some Joe Schmo to try to convince us that our newfound star knowledge was
wrong. I never believed him and always believed Fred and his app instead.

Life has been hard, post-Esalen. I’ve spent time learning about lunar and planetary cycles,

trying to convince myself that they are to blame for my difficulties. I haven’t spent much

time writing and have been consumed by my job in ways I’ve never wanted to be. I have
days when I don’t want to believe in my writing, but like our shared stargazing, I always

believe my fellows. If Esalen has given me anything, it has given me six other people to
believe when I don’t believe myself, six other people pushing me to grow. To be some

bigger version of myself.

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