THE ANSWER IS ALWAYS THE BATH

Finding Sanctuary In My Tub

In the quiet depths of my tub, amidst the warm embrace of soothing waters, I find more than just a place to bathe – I find a sanctuary, an altar of truth-telling and acceptance. From childhood to motherhood and now into older adulthood, the tub has been a constant companion, offering solace and rejuvenation in a tumultuous world.

Our tub in Fort Collins, Co.

Entering The Sanctuary

I step into the tub, lower myself to sit cross-legged, and intuitively scoot as close to the front of the tub as I can. I close my eyes and bow my head slightly to listen to the sound of the water rushing out of the tap. The sound mesmerizes me. Soothes me. My body already softening, the warm water rises and I eventually open my eyes and re-situate myself in the center of the tub, stretching out my legs and taking up more space. I begin to cup my hands ceremoniously gathering the water toward me; not unlike the ways I have seen Jewish women circle the Shabbat candles to gather in the light toward the body, making an intention to welcome in peace and spiritual light. I pull the warm water from behind me, I pull it from in front of me, I pull it toward my receptive body. I am not just gathering water, I am gathering myself, returning to myself. My right hand cups a handful of water and pours it over my left shoulder. The left hand offers the same to my right shoulder. I say no prayers with words.

The water pours over me like a prayer.

Given the choice, I will never live in a house without a tub. The bathtub, with its inviting curves and soothing waters, has long been a personal sanctuary. You can keep your fancy showers, I am a tub girl through and through.

As a child, bath time was a playful ritual, a time to splash and imagine, a comforting prelude to bedtime. Bubbles and toys and Dr. Seuss-inspired hairstyles that defied gravity.

In my teenage years, the tub became my private retreat, the one dependable place where I could escape and be left alone in peace. It taught me the value of solitude and sanctuary, a lesson that has stayed with me through the years.

When I became a mother, the bathtub offered a fleeting oasis, a place to steal moments of quiet amidst the demands of nurturing small children. It was a metaphor for letting go, for releasing the weight of responsibility, if only for a moment, to rediscover a sense of self beyond motherhood.

Now, as an adult, the tub remains my go-to place for uninterrupted alone time in my home, not only for bathing but more often for comfort, restoration, and renewal.

Our tub in Germany

Granted, sometimes a bath is just a bath. But oftentimes, it is more.

There is a physical, emotional and spiritual intimacy in the tub.

Here I am naked and alone, allowing for a deep sense of rest and acceptance, both physically and emotionally. It's a sanctuary from self-judgment and external expectations. I can be authentically myself.

Here, I release all pretense. I don’t suck in my stomach or correct my posture; I can simply exist, free from the male gaze or the female gaze of comparison.

Here, nothing is hidden. I've learned to cherish, embrace, and bless my aging body, grateful for all it does for me, grateful even for its softening changes. I am enveloped in a warm, womb-like embrace that beckons me to return to myself.

In the bathtub, I am reminded that I am not a self-improvement project or a problem to be solved. I am whole.

---

The old tub in Louisiana

Emotions can move through me unhindered in the tub. It remains for me a safe space to cry my quiet tears or to fully submerge and feel held. Is there anything as cathartic as crying in the tub and literally washing away your tears with the same water that holds you?

There is nowhere to go, nothing we really have to do. We can rest. We can just be.

Is it any wonder that we often find ourselves sinking not only into our bubble baths but deeper into ourselves?

---

Current tub

In the tub, I am open to whatever is needing my attention within. I often find myself in conversation with my deeper self and with God. It all happens quite naturally. I find myself talking things over internally, offering my hopes and my hardships, listening in and opening up to receiving insight, inspiration or direction.

The patriarchy has a history of locking up God inside a building. God comes to me unhindered in my tub. She wraps around me in the warm water and holds me, just as I am.

More than just a vessel of water; the bathtub can becomes a vessel of transformation. Each time I step into its embrace, I am reminded of the power of renewal, of the ability to wash away the old and emerge refreshed , ready to face whatever comes next. I am restored to myself.

Something as simple as a bath can serve as a physical, emotional, and spiritual sanctuary, allowing us to connect with ourselves and with the Something Greater that holds us all. We are held as we learn to hold ourselves. We are bathing in the light.

xo Mary

3 THINGS WORTH SHARING:

1. This journal entry by Caroline Calla Denofrio at

   Between a Rock and a Card Place
   which pretty much sums it up for me.

2. A quote from When The Drummers Were Women by Layne Redmond.

3. I facilitated a candlelight Labyrinth walk last week in honor and celebration of friendship and our companions on the path.

---

PS - BEFORE YOU GO:

I wanted to shout out to Leyla Kazimwho is running a GORGEOUSLY GENEROUS fundraiser for a charity called ‘Practical Action’ - subscriptions to 50 best selling Substacks to be won - more here:

A Substack raffle charity fundraiser!

Lastly…

This month a portion of our paid subscriptions goes to: Human Animal Bond in Colorado.

“Our Mission: Improving the quality of life for people of all ages through the therapeutic benefits of companion animals. HABIC trains and supports human-animal volunteer teams and student volunteers for community engagement programs.

I hope you’ll keep in touch and share a comment below. If you are more comfortable responding privately, simply reply to this email. Either way, I’ll get back to you. Thank you for reading!

© Copyright 2024 by Mary Thoma 

All rights reserved