Spas Are So Yesterday

I cannot give her what she wants. Narayan’s hands have been pressed against my heels for 10 minutes, and she’ll be damned if she stops before I breathe into my feet, let the energy go and give it to her. And I’m trying. I’ve tried willing my feet to warm up, push out the mojo, even glow. I’ve tried breathing heavily, meditating, briefly falling asleep. There are crystals on my forehead, my chest, my throat, clutched in both my hands. But Narayan is not satisfied. Eventually she gives up. “Whoa, dude. You put up a fight,” she says.

I’m at the Amrit Davaa Wellness Center at Golden Bridge Yoga in Hollywood to improve my focus, my center and my mind-body relationship. In short, I’m here because I live in L.A. and this is what we do. “Wellness centers are popping up in Los Angeles,” says Narayan, a practitioner of what she calls sacred healing beauty. “Spas are having a hard time right now because they’re only pampering. They’re not addressing wellness. I bridge the gap between beauty and healing.” To improve my wellitude, I’m trying the 90-minute Faceology, a $180 procedure you’ve probably never heard of because Narayan made it up. It’s a combination of three other things you’ve never heard of: reiki, facial reflexology and emotional-freedom techniques. Narayan, by the way, also made up her name, which used to be Kristi Marie Jones. Narayan, she says, means “protector and uplifter of all whose perception is as clear, clean and bright as flowing water,” while Kristi Marie Jones means just “Kristi Marie Jones.” She is not the only Narayan at the wellness center.

(Read more on TIME’s Wellness blog.)

Narayan is going to touch my face lightly and move some tension out of it. So I was a little surprised when she told me to take off my clothes, since I wasn’t wearing any clothes on my face. Narayan explained that clothes would get in the way of my bad energy’s exit and keep me from being relaxed. She does not understand that the last time I felt relaxed while I was naked was at 9 months old. But lying there under a sheet in the dimly lit room, chimes going off around me, a hot lavender-scented towel on my face, I do feel sort of relaxed.

Narayan applies a mask of diatomaceous earth, microdermabrasion crystals, lavender, clove and sweet orange essential oils, which feels tingly and smells awfully Christmassy. She massages that in and then applies a serum of aloe vera and jojoba oil. I’m feeling pretty great and really sleepy when Narayan tells me she is going to tap out my tension. This tapping, it turns out, isn’t tapping as much as really hard, fast banging on the bones around my eyes, jaw and nose with a stone pestle, for about half an hour. I don’t know if tension is leaving me, but it is definitely leaving Narayan.

Once the meat on my face is totally tenderized, she starts putting her hands on various parts of my body, asking me to breathe into those areas. Narayan explains that she is empathic, which means that even if I can’t feel the negative energy leaving me, she can–often seeing it as colors. Every so often, she lets out a loud breath, like a petulant dragon. This, I decide, occurs when I’m doing a good job.

Finally, after the negative-energy-sucking selenium crystals are scattered around me and the battle of the foot-breathing is lost and we thank the sun, moon and earth, I get dressed. I am pleasantly out of it and so much at peace that when Narayan comments on the essential oils still on my face, saying “I like things that vibrate,” I don’t even make a joke.

Narayan gives me my diagnosis. “Basically, every one of your chakras needs a level of work and opening up and cleaning out,” she says. This is not something I have time to do. “There’s some anxiety that fuels you,” she says. “You operate from an adrenaline rush.” She frowns slightly as she says this, but I take it as a compliment. I leave feeling more confident in my wellness than I ever have.

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