The Simple Joy of a Bubble Bath

Just a reminder that in 2019, self care doesn’t have to be lavish.  It doesn’t have to be expensive.  It doesn’t have to be hours of your time.  I took a bubble bath last night, and WOW…it did me a world of good.  What was different though, why I am bothering to write about it, is that I approached it in a mindful way.

close up of frozen water

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

We have so much stimuli coming at us.  Our mind can’t process it all.  Our minds filter out so much information.  We do things to get them done, to check tasks off the list.  I decided last night the most meditative thing I could do was be fully present in washing off the cares of the day.  I try to begin and end my day with some kind of meditation.

There’s an exercise I do to get present.  It’s especially useful when I’m feeling frantic, hurried or scattered.

Here it is:

I identify five things I can see.

  • the hundreds of bubbles in the water of varying sizes
  • the pink of my bar soap
  • the red of my wash cloth
  • a nearby candle, unlit
  • my facial cleanser

I identify four things I can hear.

  • plumbing sounds
  • tiny pops of bubbles
  • my hand moving through the water
  • footsteps in another part of the house

I identify three things I can touch or feel.

  • the warmth of the water
  • the crunch of the bubbles in my hands as I play with them
  • the coldness of my shoulders, which were not underwater

I identify two things I can smell.

  • the smell of the bubble bath, bright with a hint of charcoal
  • the eucalyptus smell of my cold cream

I identify one thing I can taste.

  • the mint of freshly brushed teeth

This exercise helps me to get really present in what I am doing and sensitizes me to my environment.  It encourages me to observe, not just do for doing’s sake.  We can buy all the self care our wallets can stand, but we must also invest our time and thought.  We must invest our Self in the self care.

For my favorite things and self care ideas, find them on Amazon!

 

 

 

We All Get Trapped in the Linen Cabinet

My day started off with a faint scratching.  It was cat claws on something, a milder version of the cringe-worthy nails-on-a-chalkboard sound.

“Catty, what are you doing?”

Nothing.  Silence.

I sip my coffee and begin to deal with notifications:  Facebook, Twitter, heaps of crap email.

That sound again.

“Catty, what ARE YOU DOING?”

I look around and no cat creating chaos.  I looked in on the cat box.  No cat creating a mess.  I looked around the living room where the cat sometimes rebels and poos anyway.  No mess.  I sit back down on the couch.

Nails-on-chalkboard sound.  CRINGE.

“Mercury?”

A faint mew.

“Mercury?”

I look around, doing a 360.  No cat in his usual spots.

“Mercury?”

A faint mew.

I open the linen cabinet.  Mercury, sitting atop a pile of towels, stares at me.  Somehow, when I was putting the towels away late last night, I had failed to notice he had gotten in there, and apparently spent the night there.  I had serious cat mom guilt.  I’ve spent most of the day hugging and petting this little guy.

I won’t be able to ascertain how long Mercury wanted to actually spend in the linen cabinet versus how much time he was actually trapped in there.   However, I’ve come to appreciate something very important.  Sometimes cries for help are faint.  It was that soft mew that led me to him.  If our furry friends have this issue, then certainly our human friends do too.  We have to be better listeners and curious listeners, not just listening for the sake of hearing, but listening for the sake of learning and hopefully, helping.

Everyone has their own linen cabinet.  For some it’s depression and for some, a rarely-spoken-of trauma.  Some spend a lot of time in the dark, just waiting for a door to open.  If you haven’t heard from someone in a while, are you listening closely enough?  Are you giving them space to be heard?