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I am one who is not burned by the salt.
I am one who dances and calls forth.
I am one who draws from within with a full-throated voice.
I am one who seeks past the explicate.
I am one who destroys as well as creates.
I am one who owns her ephemeral mark.
I am one who glows.

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I hear a knock on the door to let me know that my half hour in this space is ending. I carefully travel the length of a wood bench to reach the door, so that the meditation group about to enter the space may be greeted by the images I have left behind. I put on my robe, exit the space, and do not look back. I am at peace.

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This is as far back as I can step in the room. I look up to see what I have created. My Ancestors are with me. The Divine is with me. I can see it all, and I can see myself in that Eye.

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I look out and see the entire floor as my canvas. I walk to the door at the opposite end of the room, empty my mind except for an occasional “Full Throated” mantra, allow myself to sway and move with my hands in the salt, and another image appears: an angel whose wings reach down and whose heart is visible. I step back and continue to move my hands across the salt as I dance and sway, empty and emergent. Now a giant eye appears beneath the feet of the angel. I take another step back, swirling my hands across the powdery fineness of the salt, and seven ancestors emerge. I take another step back with my hands in the salt and my ancestors are together on a boat, being carried across a lively ocean.

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I stand and bend down so that my hands brush the superfine salt powder. I remember the Authentic Movement from our ExArts workshop and allow myself to sway and move with my hands in the salt, brushing over the surface and creating new designs. I use the movement of my whole body, standing and swaying, as images begin to appear in the salt. My word for the year is “Full Throated” and I see a bird appear in my drawings.

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I have the Salt Room to myself for a half-hour. I am naked and completely comfortable by myself in this warm, enclosed space. The room is lined with Himalayan salt slabs and flanked with two wood benches. Light shines from the ceiling through Himalayan salt light fixtures. The floor feels like it is buried under a six-inch layer of talcum powder, but it is Himalayan salt, superfine and exceptionally soft on the skin. Soft music floats in the warm, peachygolden womb-like space and I begin to see the possibility of shapes in the softness of the salt under my feet.

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Six images drawn on the  floor with whole body movement while naked and alone in a Himalayan Salt Room in St. Louis, Mo., on January 18, 2020.

Image 1: The Full-Throated Bird

Image 2: The Divine Spirit

Image 3: The Eye

Image 4: The Seven Ancestors

Image 5: The Ship on the Ocean

Image 6: Full-Floor Composition