Immediately I enter the treatment room, the intention is clear. The massage table is draped in a beautiful Indigenous blanket, and the music is unexpected. Instead of the familiar ambient calming soundscapes with gently flowing water in the background, I hear voices and drums. I am invited to stand while a land acknowledgement is made, then left alone to get ready and lie on the table. Unusually, I’m asked to lie on my back.
The Sacred Space massage at Whistler’s Four Seasons has been developed in consultation and collaboration with Squamish Lil’wat Cultural Centre and Leigh Joseph, owner of Skwálwen Botanicals, an Indigenous skin-care range of salves, lotions, balms, face masks, and more. Joseph, an ethnobotanist PhD and a member of the Squamish Nation, combined her formal studies with ancestral plant knowledge and traditions to create Skwálwen (which means “heart” in the Squamish language), using sustainably harvested and sourced ingredients.
The treatment felt akin to ritual—an acknowledgement of the land, the rainforest, its flora and fauna, and the acceptance of the healing potential held within.
The massage begins at the feet, with a gentle exfoliation using a shea butter body polish infused with wild rose. This is, I’m told, a grounding exercise, to connect me to the earth. As the massage continues, I am invited to smell the oils and lotions used—wild nettle, peppermint, arnica—with healing properties explained. The style of massage is also different, defined by long strokes designed to aid relaxation while allowing the smells and sounds to permeate the senses.
It’s an emotional experience—for myself and my therapist. When it is over, I ask her if giving this massage brings extra meaning to her work, and she nods. She was, she says, close to tears at times, and I understand why. The treatment felt akin to ritual—an acknowledgement of the land, the rainforest, its flora and fauna, and the acceptance of the healing potential held within. These connections, always all around us, were distilled into something intentional and gifted through her hands to my body in what, for the time we are in it, feels exactly like a sacred space.
Lying on a yoga mat, snuggled under a blanket, I tune out the stresses and strains of life and focus on the soothing voice encouraging me to pay attention to my breath and adjust my position until I am completely comfortable. Then, beginning quietly, the space is filled with the deep hum of a crystal singing bowl, creating waves of intensity designed to absorb the mind and relax the body.
Sound baths are an incredible meditation aid, especially if, like me, you struggle with batting away intrusive thoughts. At Vancouver’s Fairmont Waterfront, weekly sound bathing conducted by local practitioner Tianne Allan is offered free to registered guests. The hour-long session is a restful way to begin the day, the crystal bowls providing pure, even tones that guide you into deep relaxation.
Centring yourself in your body and leaving your busy mind behind has long been a spiritual approach to reducing anxiety and promoting wellness—and something many of us turned to during the pandemic and continue to practise. The sharp shock of cold water is something anyone with a shower can employ, though cold plunging in open water brings the opportunity to connect with nature. Fairmont Waterfront guests can enjoy escorted cold water plunges at Stanley Park’s Third Beach followed by warm-up time in the hotel’s spa facilities and heated pool monthly through February.
Escaping winter in Vancouver by heading south is hardly new, but I didn’t expect to find myself freezing in Phoenix. The city’s Global Ambassador hotel opened a year ago with a strong commitment to health and wellness, including a collaboration with L.A. celebrity body sculpting studio Forma Pilates. And, from a list of spa treatments that include an infrared sauna, full body dry brushing, and warm and cold stone therapy, cryotherapy stood out to me, with its promise of anti-inflammatory benefits and thought clarity. Hotel owner Sam Fox told me he takes a daily frigid air spin, and it sets him up for the day. The decision was sealed.
Pulling on long socks, gloves, and a toque while wearing a bathing suit was not what I had imagined, nor was I expecting a choice of temperatures that began at -95 C and went down from there—added wind chill optional. Two minutes of deep freeze were recommended for a first-timer, which sounded easy until I stepped inside and shrieked. The dry cold brings a different energy than wet plunging, and I danced and sang in a kind of self-preservation stupor until released from the icy cocoon. I was suddenly hyperfocused, alert—and curiously, relaxed.
It makes sense that hotels would offer classes and techniques to aid relaxation—regardless of whether your stay is for work or pleasure, the opportunity to de-stress and recentre is always welcome. Walking out of the spa at the Four Seasons, I look up at the mountain and the trees and breathe deeply, taking a moment to feel the connection between mind, body, and place.
