A sauna is more quiet. More like a log cabin; more like a very hot log cabin where people sit around loosely draped by borrowed towels. There is a community inside a sauna. There is a quiet harmony inside a sauna. And if you’re looking for a place of solitude, well, I’m not so sure that is the best place to go because it’s hard to keep a singular train of thought. I deliver proof: I sat this evening reading the front page of the NY Times. I passed the article on Karzai, and his grave warning to NATO troops to cease and desist the killing of innocent Afghani civilians. During night raids (which NATO claims are very effective in destroying insurgents), you can’t see so well and air strikes go this way, and nobody ever accounts for wind factor—children almost as old as my son are dying. And so Karzai is asking (no), ordering a complete end of these attacks.
Hmm. I seem to remember more than I thought—wait. I re-read the article on the subway ride home. Ha. I forgot. I can honestly tell you that in the sauna it was difficult to concentrate on the article because as I read I continued to sweat and began to worry about damaging the paper with my sweaty fingers.
Don’t go into a sauna when you’re sad because you’ll forget the reason you’re sad, and will probably wind up worrying about something else, then become too hot and not care about being sad at all. Unless, of course, you are trying to get over your sadness, in which case, a sauna might be just the thing.