Sauna and a swim on the Dorset coast
Tara and I are happily glowing when our sauna host, Sarah, enters with a bucket of birch water and a tea towel. Tara is sitting on the top level of the sauna, squinting out of a small window at the bright Dorset coast and the seaweed-slippery sea we’ve just come from, while I am down a rung, where the heat is milder. Sarah is beaded with sweat, her eyes bright blue above a deep smile. She emanates the kind of wellness that can make those around her feel a bit blessed, which is ideal as what I am doing here is a kind of worship: of water, friendship, the sea and the seasons. Swimming can be a non-liturgical service, a naked exchange between you and the planet where words fall away and you drop back into the world as if you belong.
