I drove past Sunday during my rush north up the Pacific Coast Highway.
I hear it is a very sexual place. A great place to get into trouble. Sure, there are lots of classes and spirituality, but it’s the sex that sticks in my mind.
Some innocent girl is enjoying the hot tub and the next thing she knows some stranger is going down on her and she’s liking it.
It sounds very seductive and dangerous.
Esalen. The word itself summons up tantalizing visions of adventure, of unexplored frontiers, of human possibilities yet to be realized. There is the wonder of the place itself, 120 acres of fertile land carved out between mountain and ocean, blessed by a cascading canyon stream and hot mineral springs gushing out of a seaside cliff. There is the delicate and subtle Big Sur air of a late afternoon in May, the midnight mist of July, the drenching February rain. There are October nights so clear the Milky Way can light your walk along the darkened garden path. And always there is the sound of the sea.
