I recently took a break from the frenetic pace of the season for one of the most living-in-the-moment experiences you can have: a trip to the spa, culminating in a one-hour massage.

My sister-in-law and I both had gift certificates to The Crystal Spa in Saratoga Springs and she suggested the Saturday before Christmas would be an ideal time to go.

After checking in, we were lead down a hotel-like corridor and I was ushered into the "Royal" room. I�m assuming there�s an equivalent room in the men�s side with a masculine decor, but this room was definitely fit for a queen. Light pink tile on the walls, dusty rose tiles on the floor and a border filled with frolicking cherubs circling the ceiling. New Age music softly filtered through a wall speaker.

Before the door even closed I had left the outside world behind me.

A third of the room was taken up by a long sunken tub to the left of the door. A massage table took up a third of the room to the right. A wooden chair rested against the far wall with enough walking space between to move around.

First order of business was to wrap myself in the warmed sheet placed on the table and slip down the hallway to the sauna. Some people find the extreme heat of a sauna oppressive but I found the dryness of this one relaxing. We sat on the top level, sipping lemon-spritzed ice water and feeling the toxins and tensions evaporate.

When I re-entered my room fifteen minutes later, water filled the long, narrow tub. I can�t say that it looked particularly inviting. Spa waters have varying levels of minerals that don�t make them look or smell very appealing. While this one didn�t have a noticeable odor, its mossy brown tint made me think of green tea.

Once I got in I didn�t care what color it was. It was warm and soothing. My limbs were buoyant. I leaned my head against the inflatable pillow provided and closed my eyes. A few deep breaths. The sound of woodwind music interspersed with occasional bird chirps.

Other than one query from the attendant to make sure the water temperature was to my liking, I was alone. (Well, I did hear someone running the tub in the room next door. And occasional sounds from the hallway as other guests came and went. But that was it.)

Too soon, though, the half-hour soak was over. The door opened and I was told it was time to dry off and prepare for my massage. I reluctantly left the water, realizing that it would soon be tepid anyway.

When I was on the table and covered, the attendant came in. She made sure the sheet was straight and rubbed cucumber slices over my face then left them to rest on my eyes. This sounds, and looks, strange but it is really a pleasantly cooling experience after the sauna and bath.

I rested there for a couple minutes before the massage therapist entered the room. She quietly introduced herself and asked if I�d had a massage before. I said I�d been once before, six or seven years ago, but only for the 30 minute treatment.

The session started at the top: pressure points on my cheeks and scalp; slow motion along my scalp; firm circles on the base of my neck. I can see why some people go to the spa just for scalp and facial treatments. It�s quite indulgent.

From my head the therapist moved to my arms. I was surprised when every joint of every finger received gentle pulling and stretching. I tend to think of massage as rubbing out the kinks in the big muscles; the little ones do so much and deserve equal pampering.

When it came to the legs there was a cool kneading and pushing motion she did on my thighs that turned any tension and resistance there into mellow putty.

Time to turn over and place my face in the three-sided face cradle that is pulled out from or attached to the top of the table. Again, something that looks like it would be awkward but is actually comfortable, as long as your arms are by your sides and the your skin doesn�t come in contact with the plastic vinyl covering of the cradle.

The back was the final stop on the journey. Up, down and side-to-side. Even though I don�t suffer from any injuries or ailments there, my muscles and spine were thankful to receive some attention. Chalk it up to preventative maintenance.

Slowly I realized that it was all coming to an end. I had to fight to keep my brain from rushing out ahead of me. The winter air, the traffic by the mall, the remaining presents to purchase and wrap, the baking to complete--that all awaited me. But before I got there I savored the final moments of insulation between me and the world.

I got nothing further accomplished that day. After a relaxing lunch and two glasses of wine, I went home and had no ambition. I wasn�t tired as from lack of sleep, nor exhausted as from sickness. I just didn�t want to do anything. I napped. I ate. I thought about the presents and baking and said, "I�ll do it all tomorrow. Today I am at peace."

Inner peace leading to outer joy. That�s what this time of the year should be about.