The holidays have me distracted from the New Things.
Or rather, the writing of the New Things. I’m a few postings behind and struggling a bit to get back in the groove. Struggling in any area is not a happy place for me. Struggling with my writing, specifically? I should probably wear a sign around my neck to give people fair warning.
Struggling, struggling….
Then it occurs to me....Of course! The best thing I can do to get myself back on track?
Struggling, struggling….
Then it occurs to me....Of course! The best thing I can do to get myself back on track?
Take a bath.
~
I've never had much success with traditional meditation.
You know, “Ommmm?” Meditation. Lotus position. Transcendence, enlightenment and all that.
I love my mind. My imagination. I do.
Most of the time.
Sometimes it's genius, my imagination. Divine and inspired.
Other times, it's multiple-personality chatter. Repetitive and ridiculous. "Riddikulus!" My imagination throwing an evil party at my expense
I have absolute capacity for both.
What my mind can rarely do, however, is stop. That phrase "empty your mind," makes me laugh every time. The idea of meditation is appealing to me. I tried it years ago. When I really could have used a clear mind. A healing escape.
Some 'meditation show-offs' say, it's natural that your mind wanders during meditation. When this happens, just make mental note that it's happening and get back to the meditating. "Empty your mind."
So I tried.
And when my mind began to make the grocery list, I thought "Oh look, my mind is making my grocery list. How interesting." Mental note.
Then I went back to trying like crazy to empty my mind.
"Oh, now I'm thinking about what time I need to pick up Ciara from dance. Interesting."
Empty your mind. EMPTY YOUR MIND!
"Oh, now I'm thinking about when Colin's science project is due,” I made another mental note.
“Interesting, again. What is my problem? Meditate ALREADY, Bitch!”
I was quite unsuccessful at meditation. But I did become an expert at making mental notes.
Generally, people think of baths and showers to be for the same purpose: Hygiene.
And most adults I know, think that showers are preferable. More ‘grown-up.’ Functional. That baths are for kids.
Of course, you know what I think about adults. We’re idiots. Taking ourselves so seriously.
I do find showers perfectly adequate for washing, lathering, scrubbing purposes. But not for healing, restorative, soul nourishing purposes.
Two relevant facts:
• The bath room of my current residence doesn’t have a tub, only a shower. And the space does not allow for a tub to be installed.
• Because of this, I've had only one bath in over a year’s time. Until recently.
Weeks before I saw clearly that the outdoor bath tub New Thing was possible, I happened to spend some quality time in a beautiful hotel. With a beautiful bath tub. And other forms of water nearby. I spent my fair share of time in that bath tub, the hot tub downstairs and the hotel pool.
The incredible endurance-testing heat of the hot tub. Sweat beading on my nose and forehead. A delicate mist bubbles into the air just above the surface, sparkling, champagne-like, all around. And just when I can't stand the heat any longer, I move to the expanse of the swimming pool. A little dizzy from the transition of hot to cold, cool relief washes over me as I swim to the other end.
Then back in the hotel room, it's time for a bath. The smell and feel of chlorine is thick and stiff on my skin.
The humidity-heavy room is set with the perfect accompaniments: Champagne, low lights, candles flicking reflection on the shiny white tile, quiet music from the next room. Rich, fragrant lotions and creams. A pristine, white, terry robe, waiting.
Visible humidity swirls slow with a draft along the ceiling. Growing warmer and heavier with airborne water. The vapor calling the toxins from beneath my skin.
After being out of the bath habit for way too long, I needed this unexpected reminder. Oh, the indulgence of a leisurely and luxurious bath.
Just after the Flash Mob New Thing, I was standing in my driveway talking to Laurie, my neighbor, friend and half owner of my house. She asked how the New Things were going. I explained how thrilled I’d been about the Flash Mob. How unexpected it was. Something I’d not thought possible. And how the universe dropped it right into my lap. (Well, actually, Dellie’s lap. And then Dellie, in her sweet, organic generosity, shared it with me.)
“A Flash Mob! One of the three things I thought would be so difficult to pull off,” I said
“What are the other two things,” Laurie asked.
“A ride-along in a fighter jet and to have an outdoor bathtub.”
“We have a bathtub in storage.” She pointed to the shed behind us, next to her car.
“You do?”
“Yeah. A claw foot bathtub.”
“Really? No way,” I said.
“Way!” she said. Okay, Laurie didn’t really say ‘way’ but something very close.
I asked if she and Jim would be interested in the tub being set up somewhere on the property of my place. The top deck. The lower deck. The driveway. ANYWHERE.
“I don’t see why not. I’ll talk to Jim. He can come over and you guys can pick the best spot.”
Sure enough, within a couple days, Jim and I were walking around the property, making plans.
Now I’m not sure how much an old claw foot tub weighs but in my rookie opinion, we’d need a few able-bodies. (When I did a Google search for how much they weigh, someone commented “If you flip it over, the weight might be stamped on the bottom.” Now if I could just flip over a claw foot bath tub, I probably don’t need to know how much it weighs.)
I made a call to recruit help moving the heavy, bulky tub down the hillside and we tried coordinating schedules. But coordinating and schedules are over-rated.
A couple Saturdays later, I heard some rustling outside my house. I didn’t think much of it. It was a dry autumn day and Laurie is very handy with a weed eater. A leaf blower. A shop vac. A circular saw. I imagined her outside involved in a project.
A bit later that day, I discovered what that project was. Laurie and Jim, had moved the tub from the storage shed, over to the side of my house and down the hill to the lower deck. Holy cow! Apparently, Jim & Laurie are just the alter egos of a lesser known Dynamic Duo. A team of crime fighters with bathtub superpowers? Terry cloth towels for capes.
Jim was in and out of my house a couple times that afternoon, rigging the plumbing for the tub to have hot water.
My original thought was, when I wanted to fill the outdoor tub, I’d slip a garden hose through the window in the laundry room and hook up to the washer’s hot water faucet. Fill the tub. Then when I was done, hook the washer back up until next time. Opening and closing stubborn windows. Coiling and uncoiling the inevitably uncooperative garden hose. Happily jumping through the necessary hoops to make it work.
But Jim, was having none of such small thinking.
I love my mind. My imagination. I do.
Most of the time.
Sometimes it's genius, my imagination. Divine and inspired.
Other times, it's multiple-personality chatter. Repetitive and ridiculous. "Riddikulus!" My imagination throwing an evil party at my expense
I have absolute capacity for both.
What my mind can rarely do, however, is stop. That phrase "empty your mind," makes me laugh every time. The idea of meditation is appealing to me. I tried it years ago. When I really could have used a clear mind. A healing escape.
Some 'meditation show-offs' say, it's natural that your mind wanders during meditation. When this happens, just make mental note that it's happening and get back to the meditating. "Empty your mind."
So I tried.
And when my mind began to make the grocery list, I thought "Oh look, my mind is making my grocery list. How interesting." Mental note.
Then I went back to trying like crazy to empty my mind.
"Oh, now I'm thinking about what time I need to pick up Ciara from dance. Interesting."
Empty your mind. EMPTY YOUR MIND!
"Oh, now I'm thinking about when Colin's science project is due,” I made another mental note.
“Interesting, again. What is my problem? Meditate ALREADY, Bitch!”
I was quite unsuccessful at meditation. But I did become an expert at making mental notes.
~
Generally, people think of baths and showers to be for the same purpose: Hygiene.
And most adults I know, think that showers are preferable. More ‘grown-up.’ Functional. That baths are for kids.
Of course, you know what I think about adults. We’re idiots. Taking ourselves so seriously.
I do find showers perfectly adequate for washing, lathering, scrubbing purposes. But not for healing, restorative, soul nourishing purposes.
Two relevant facts:
• The bath room of my current residence doesn’t have a tub, only a shower. And the space does not allow for a tub to be installed.
• Because of this, I've had only one bath in over a year’s time. Until recently.
~
Weeks before I saw clearly that the outdoor bath tub New Thing was possible, I happened to spend some quality time in a beautiful hotel. With a beautiful bath tub. And other forms of water nearby. I spent my fair share of time in that bath tub, the hot tub downstairs and the hotel pool.
The incredible endurance-testing heat of the hot tub. Sweat beading on my nose and forehead. A delicate mist bubbles into the air just above the surface, sparkling, champagne-like, all around. And just when I can't stand the heat any longer, I move to the expanse of the swimming pool. A little dizzy from the transition of hot to cold, cool relief washes over me as I swim to the other end.
Then back in the hotel room, it's time for a bath. The smell and feel of chlorine is thick and stiff on my skin.
The humidity-heavy room is set with the perfect accompaniments: Champagne, low lights, candles flicking reflection on the shiny white tile, quiet music from the next room. Rich, fragrant lotions and creams. A pristine, white, terry robe, waiting.
Visible humidity swirls slow with a draft along the ceiling. Growing warmer and heavier with airborne water. The vapor calling the toxins from beneath my skin.
After being out of the bath habit for way too long, I needed this unexpected reminder. Oh, the indulgence of a leisurely and luxurious bath.
~
Just after the Flash Mob New Thing, I was standing in my driveway talking to Laurie, my neighbor, friend and half owner of my house. She asked how the New Things were going. I explained how thrilled I’d been about the Flash Mob. How unexpected it was. Something I’d not thought possible. And how the universe dropped it right into my lap. (Well, actually, Dellie’s lap. And then Dellie, in her sweet, organic generosity, shared it with me.)
“A Flash Mob! One of the three things I thought would be so difficult to pull off,” I said
“What are the other two things,” Laurie asked.
“A ride-along in a fighter jet and to have an outdoor bathtub.”
“We have a bathtub in storage.” She pointed to the shed behind us, next to her car.
“You do?”
“Yeah. A claw foot bathtub.”
“Really? No way,” I said.
“Way!” she said. Okay, Laurie didn’t really say ‘way’ but something very close.
I asked if she and Jim would be interested in the tub being set up somewhere on the property of my place. The top deck. The lower deck. The driveway. ANYWHERE.
“I don’t see why not. I’ll talk to Jim. He can come over and you guys can pick the best spot.”
Sure enough, within a couple days, Jim and I were walking around the property, making plans.
Now I’m not sure how much an old claw foot tub weighs but in my rookie opinion, we’d need a few able-bodies. (When I did a Google search for how much they weigh, someone commented “If you flip it over, the weight might be stamped on the bottom.” Now if I could just flip over a claw foot bath tub, I probably don’t need to know how much it weighs.)
I made a call to recruit help moving the heavy, bulky tub down the hillside and we tried coordinating schedules. But coordinating and schedules are over-rated.
A couple Saturdays later, I heard some rustling outside my house. I didn’t think much of it. It was a dry autumn day and Laurie is very handy with a weed eater. A leaf blower. A shop vac. A circular saw. I imagined her outside involved in a project.
A bit later that day, I discovered what that project was. Laurie and Jim, had moved the tub from the storage shed, over to the side of my house and down the hill to the lower deck. Holy cow! Apparently, Jim & Laurie are just the alter egos of a lesser known Dynamic Duo. A team of crime fighters with bathtub superpowers? Terry cloth towels for capes.
Jim was in and out of my house a couple times that afternoon, rigging the plumbing for the tub to have hot water.
My original thought was, when I wanted to fill the outdoor tub, I’d slip a garden hose through the window in the laundry room and hook up to the washer’s hot water faucet. Fill the tub. Then when I was done, hook the washer back up until next time. Opening and closing stubborn windows. Coiling and uncoiling the inevitably uncooperative garden hose. Happily jumping through the necessary hoops to make it work.
But Jim, was having none of such small thinking.
He drilled a hole in the side of the house, tapped into the water line along the washer wall and set up a hot water faucet outside.
Then he ran a line beneath the upper deck and down to the tub, with a shut-off nozzle at the tub end. So much easier and more convenient than what I was thinking. And I’m so grateful. If you’re going to do something, do it all the way.
 |
| The dry autumn day turned wet. |
I was a little sad that I’d missed the pictures of the trek down the hill with the cast iron tub. I asked Laurie if they could do it again so I could get a couple nice action shots. She said no.
The entire project was complete in one short afternoon. Thanks, Jim and Laurie. Otherwise known as the Clawfoot Crusaders. Fighting evil and righting wrongs with cast iron bathtubs everywhere!
Parental Advisory:
(Hey, it worked for metal bands in the 80's)
The remaining material in this blog post may contain graphic material, including offensive language (oh, wait, that was earlier) and unedited pictures of a 50 year old woman in a bath tub.
Viewer’s discretion and all that. I’m just sayin’.
There are a few very special things in life that resonate so deeply within me, they seem to speak directly to my spirit. As I’ve written recently, gratitude is one of these things.
Water is another.
Soaking in water is my zen. My yoga. My prayer.
The only place I've ever truly meditated. Happily and naturally.
With no meditation obscenities flying about.
 |
| Mango Mimosa not mandatory for meditation, but blissful for a bath. |
Any bath is good. And I knew the first bath I took in my outdoor tub would be incredible but honestly? I had no idea!
I just kept thinking, “How cool is this? I’m taking a hot bath. On my deck. Overlooking Puget Sound.”
 |
| Wardrobe change. |
The water feels amazing. My skin, my spirit, my body, my senses are so happy. I scoot down so my head goes under water. Only my knees and face are left exposed to the air. I let my hands float, my knuckles bob at the surface.
With each rise and fall, the water moves like the subtle shift of a sleepy tide. I fill my lungs with cool air, the water is pushed away, displaced. I let the air escape, as slow and long as I can, the water returns to cover my body fully again.My ears under the water. the world is muffled and cushioned away. The deep, wise voice of the earth’s core. Sounds so friendly and loving. The water holding me safe. I hear a distant rumble, Murmurings of the earth, deep and wise. She reassures me without trying.
Water spirit speaks to me. Clarifying my peace and surety. My senses deprived of all things except the water and my breath. I'm not sure I'm ever as unconditionally loved as when I'm submerged in water. Held safely by her warmth, her strength and unwavering support.
Actually holding me aloft. Overruling the confines of gravity.
I love the way my hair waves with the gentle ebb.
I slip back up to sitting position.
My red painted toes peeking out at me from the other end of the large white tub.
Happy toes. Taking a bath in my outdoor tub.
The first weekend with the new tub, I indulged myself with two long soaks in a single day.
The first, in the morning after breakfast, with a cup of coffee at my side. The sun working its way toward mid-day. The bath is fresh and revitalizing; I don’t want to get out but eventually, the heat of the water and my coffee has faded away.
Then another bath, after dark, with green, blue and white twinkle lights strung in the nearby trees, a thin canopy over the tub and deck. And more lights strung under the wooden bench and out of sight. They cast a mysterious glow across the wood of the deck and in the surrounding ferns. My first night bath, outside.
It was eerie and wonderful at the same time.
The mostly-full moon glows overhead. Scattered, wispy white clouds move and mingle in the sky. The steam from my bath water, rises and disappears into the air, like from a cauldron. There’s incredible silence.
The distant halo of city lights over Steilacoom and Dupont.
An airplane far over me, with its lights plowing through the clouds.
An owl glides over the beach below.
I'm treated to three moons. The one in the sky. The one that reflects from the water of Puget Sound and the one glowing before me, on the surface of my bath.
Then piano music plays from the art/music studio next door. Feels like it was especially for me.
Moonlight Bath Sonata in B Major?
I wish it’d been possible to capture the truth of the moment in a picture. That night bath. But I know enough about photography to be certain that I might end up with an amazing picture but it would not come near the reality.
Speaking of pictures, I’m going to confess something here and now that makes me feel quite vulnerable to admit.
It’s kind of a cultural expectation, a social cliché that women in their 40’s, 50’s, 60’s be hesitant to have their picture taken. (Especially in a bath tub.) That we are to shy away, stand behind people or furniture. Hold our hand up to block the camera, turn our head away. We’ve all done it. But this mentality simply contributes to the worship of the Golden Calf of Youth. The false god. The empty vessel. Screw that!
I adore the pictures of me in the tub.
ADORE.
There’s only one problem with the outdoor bathtub: having to get out.
I hate that part.
I highly recommend an outdoor bath experience to everyone. (Hell, I recommend an indoor bath everyday!) My tub has been used by a couple different guests. I'm happy to share. Honored. Prior to it being installed, I told Laurie that I hoped she and Jim would use it as well. She’s mentioned something about it feeling intrusive. Nonsense. It should be used as much as possible. It's a shame not to. I was recently away for almost two weeks. Upon my return, as I was filling the tub, it occurred to me that I should have made a point of telling them to use it while I was away. Maybe they did. I hope so.
In my world, baths and showers do not serve the same function.
The water of a bath has completely different properties than that for a shower.
The water feels different. Smells different. Soothes different.
I do not take a bath for hygiene purposes but for the healing qualities.
No soap, no shampoo, no scrubs.
Yet so much more cleansing and refreshing.
A quieting soul sanctuary from the ordinary all around us.
Talk about transcendence.
An Outdoor Bath: 15th New Thing!
 |
| This is what the morning looks like from the tub. |
 |
| This is what the morning-after looks like from the tub. |
In my own defense, there are 290 pictures that I'm not posting here.
Sing hey! For the bath at close of day
That washes the weary mud away!
A loon is he that will not sing:
O! Water Hot is a noble thing!
O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
And the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
But better than rain or rippling streams
Is Water Hot that smokes and steams.
O! Water cold we may pour at need
Down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed;
But better is Beer, if drink we lack,
And Water Hot poured down the back.
O! Water is fair that leaps on high
In a fountain white beneath the sky;
But never did fountain sound so sweet
As splashing Hot Water with my feet!
(J.R.R Tolkien - The Fellowship of the Ring / Chapter "A Conspiracy Unmasked")
