Does it work for you? It really doesn't for me.
Earlier this week I was trialling a course which involved it. I brewed up in advance before switching on and realising I was supposed to give this tape my whole, undivided attention. I guess ideally I'd have left my lovely, big, relaxing cuppa to go cold but it was my last chance to get one and not need the loo while out that evening with friends. It's important not to need the loo if you can't access it
So, it stayed.
I pressed the start button and the musak began. It did little other than irritate me. (Prior to starting I'd been listening to Vaughan Williams' Lark Ascending. Much more relaxing.) Then the voiceover, deliberately slow, equally irritating, joined in. I did my best to comply.
I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply as requested and breathed out all that was on my mind. Then I was told to breathe slowly in and out (Sorry, in...........and.........out), breathing out all the things on my mind, one per breath. Hang on a minute! I'd just done that. Should I breathe 'em back in so's I could breathe them out individually? Oh bilhooks! I breathe out the irritating woman only to find I must have breathed her back in again as she's still droning on.
Now I'm in a supposed hallway (after a quick swig of tea to relax me) with a marble floor and stone walls. (I'm sure I shouldn't be puzzling over this rather odd combination :? ) There is, it seems, a door with my name over it so, as bidden, I go out of the door and onto the beach which I'm told is outside it. In my mind it's my beloved Venice Beach of course. (I'm getting into this now.) I'm told to make for the palm trees so I do. I well know the little circle of palms just up from Muscle Beach and the loos, opposite the 'Medicinal Marijuana' booth. I stand slightly sideways on, with most of my back to the boardwalk and gaze out to sea as directed and see the beautiful, blue Santa Monica Mountains to the right. Utter perfection. I am relaxed as I always am here.
Now I'm told to walk round my island. Island? It's not a blinking island, woman! It's Venice Beach. It's vast, empty sand, sea, sky and mountains if I turn one way and all the wonderful contrasting bustle of the boardwalk the other. There's no island. Who wants an island?
I'm told there's a bottle in the sea and I should pick it up. “I can't bend that far” seems unacceptably truculent (albeit true) so I take another swig of tea and pretend. What's in it? Hm. Ardbeg would be nice. Or Chenin Blanc. But no. I'm told it's just your typical message in a bottle and in a language I don't understand, to boot. Great. Very relaxing :roll:
I now, apparently, see footprints in the sand. Are these mine, I'm asked, then told they are. Oh no they're not
because these are straight and normal and mine are most emphatically not.
I'm to return to the door. The voiceover woman hasn't noticed the boardwalk so I guess I'm supposed to ignore it. We go into reverse and the musak starts up again while the irritatingly slow voice continues. I finish my rather cold cuppa while they do their thing.
This just isn't my
thing at all. I presume some people must find it helpful or it wouldn't be so popular, in all sorts of forms, for all sorts of people but, as for me, I get straight back to Classic FM and Yorkshire CCC's progress on Cricinfo. Now that's
“There is always a well-known solution to every human problem - neat, plausible, and wrong.” H.L. Mencken