Hot Baths

As I think back, more people have shaken their heads than nodded them when they discover that I prefer baths over showers (assuming I'm alone in there). They usually say something about bathing in the dirt you just washed off your body. Overactive hypochondria. Or maybe they should stop getting so dirty.

I've usually chalked it up to the difference between air temperature and water temperature, much preferring to be covered in warmth than wetted down and left to stand in the cold air. But yesterday, whilst plugging my nose and limply lying in the bath, I had another, altogether more primal thought.

As I pinched my nose and sank beneath the steaming, still water, sounds became far away, sight was gone, the incessant need to inhale and exhale became calm, my muscles completely relaxed and I was suspended in time and space. Into that space came the metaphor of a womb, the ultimate iconography of protection and warmth. For those precious seconds in my hot bath I can feel protected and insulated, free from the hurry and worry and the constant drive that even my breathing and heartbeat demand from me. It is more than relaxation; it is freedom.

Be well.