By Maria Goodell, Founder of Celluvia Wellness Lounge
People are often surprised when I tell them what I did before starting Celluvia. I was an ROV pilot. That stands for remotely operated vehicle, an underwater robot the size of a small car that I flew from a chair on the deck of a ship, far above it.
Most of my work was in the oil industry, on big ships far from land. We placed and recovered nodes on the seafloor, heavy devices that ping and build a map of the ocean bottom. The ship worked around the clock, so I worked twelve hours a day, six hours at a time in the pilot’s chair, then a break, then back again. Flying an ROV is like driving a car in the dark for six hours. You learn patience. You learn to breathe.
The job I will never forget was off Sicily. I was working for an American team searching for shipwrecks from a sea battle fought more than two thousand years ago, when ships still rammed each other bow to bow. We were looking for those rams, and for anything else the sea might give back.
One day I saw a handle sticking out of the sand.
I brought the ROV closer. The handle belonged to something large, almost as tall as I am, buried and heavy, a clay vessel from the ancient world. For the next hour I worked it loose, back and forth, a little at a time, terrified I would snap the handle and lose it. My heart was in my throat the whole time. Excitement, fear, and the need to be very, very careful, all at once. When it finally came free, I flew it up to the basket, and later I stood beside it for a photograph. That picture is still one of my favorites.
I think about that hour often, because it is exactly what I do now.
Something precious is buried under a lot of weight. Stress, tiredness, years of not taking care of ourselves. You cannot yank it loose. You work at it gently, a little at a time, with patience and care, and you let it rise.
That is Celluvia. Red light, oxygen, sound, frequency, and a floor that feels like clouds. Every one of them is gentle. Every one of them asks you to slow down. Every one of them is a way to let your body come back to the surface.
The ship taught me something else, too. Twelve-hour days, a chair, a screen, salt air and stress. Your body is like a machine. If you never change the oil, it stops. I learned that the hard way. Now I help people do the maintenance before the breakdown.
Come see me on Main Street. I will show you around, and if you ask nicely, I will show you the picture of the Amphores.
Live, love, thrive.
Celluvia Wellness Lounge, 15111 Main Street, Suite A104, Mill Creek. (425) 971-3815. celluvia.com.
