I took a bath this morning. Yes, this morning. I did not have any more time this morning than in other mornings. I did not have a day off or a late morning meeting. My arrival time at the office did not change. And I took a bath this morning.
We had another house guest and when I returned from yoga and the shower was occupied. And I waited. She finished showering, but was still in the bathroom. Michelle was telling me to hurry up and take a shower because she had to use it next. In the interest of time and not wanting rush our guest, I decided to shower downstairs. I loathe the downstairs shower. It is old. The fixtures are original to the house. The spigot coughs when asked to release water. The knobs and head glisten in the light and struggle to create constant, pressurized streams of water—a requisite for my showers. I love my showers. They are my daily accelerant, my caffeine if you will. I get in and get out. This shower does not give good showers. It never has.
I decided to take a bath.
I ran the water to the right temperature and added a few drops of soap and stepped in carefully. I washed my shoulders and my feet. Carefully scrubbed my fingers and my toes. And then I just sat there. In the moment of stillness and silence, three insights were revealed. There are always moments of peace, especially in moments of disruption. They must be found. There is always time for stillness. My bath was no longer than my shower. The choice to sit in warm water this morning and in stillness created a small space of abundance in the face of limits and disruption.
I loathed the downstairs shower experience because the shower is not good as showers. It hasn't been good at showers since we moved in the house. It is, however, great at baths. I was looking for the wrong thing. It reminded me to always look for what is right with an experience, instead of what is wrong. A surprise is always waiting on the other side.
I share this with you this morning as a reminder to take your bath wherever you are. You deserve it.