i’m writing this from the floor of the bathroom. nothing’s wrong. i spent hours reading there as a teenager- something about the smallness, the simplicity. not much to distract you in a bathroom. and it’s sort of a free zone, like refugees taking up in a church. everything else has to wait; that’s the rule.
i felt ever-so-slightly under the weather today. science tells me it’s probably a bug of some sort, but who’s to say? it doesn’t take much imbalance for a bug to tip a scale, and since i’m the scale, i turned off all the lights, and turned on krista tippet, and stretched my limbs out slow. bath, chakra candle, buddhist monks, and here we are, savoring the solid solitude of bathroom floor. mmm nighttime.
cutting the lights does wonders. it turns off all the stuff, so many visual reminders of must-do’s and meaning-to’s. darkness is freeing like swimming is freeing: if you only see as far as your hand, you’re content to wave it around in the space in front of you. no entertainment needed. i know when i’m dreaming because i move slow, as through water, in long arching leaps. the slow food movement acquaints you with your sustenance. plain slow movement acquaints you with…. you?
sometimes there’s too much stuff. what if this nighttime landscape bled into day, melted down some of that stuff and traded it for open space, easy as darkness? the simplicity is so appealing. but then sometimes i’m maude, with a closet full of instruments and a parlor of flowered contraptions. there’s such simple joy in that.
i suppose i could seek balance between the two, but i know i’m not a libra, i’m a pendulum. a little goldfish of a pendulum, excited anew for cleaning each spring and nesting each fall, for yoga and garage sales. a simple living packrat. a bathroom floor blogger. so it goes.