Bathis Praxis
I did not intend to meditate today…
…it settled over me as I lay floating in the tub.
A day of writing and mothering…
…the bath was meant to be a practical punctuation.
I breathe and float and let go of the day…
…it becomes an important point of reference, an endnote.
The water is warm and mostly enveloping…
…my exposed skin is goose bumped from the cool air.
I am comfortable with both temperatures…
…equanimity where before there would have been aversion.
My hands float just below the surface…
…until I will them to rise and rest on my abdomen.
My stomach is stable, unwavering…
…strength where there once would have been jelly like cowardice.
After a time of breathing and feeling…
…my mind returns and has something important to reveal.
My practice is finally my own.
It feels as much mine now as my body finally feels to me.
I am not mimicking another’s practice or following their dogmatic instructions.
I am floating in my own meditation.
Created at last, with the words that pour out of me each day.
A smile, an exhalation, and a tear are added to the subtle waves around me.
sometimesihatemycat 