An ode (This is NOT my normal type of posting!) O bathroom and lavatory Shower, water closet, and toilet Sanctuary from this busy world Cohabitation of hygiene and base bodily function Compulsory, unavoidable, a cultural universal The only respite for the weary Where else is one alone? Who knows of another like this? This last refuge of the sane. That small room, the locked home Bigger on the inside A world alone There once was a time that we lived so on top of each other in our communities and villages. We were so connected that we had a name for that exceptional person who escaped: a hermit. Even the aristocracy in their castles were surrounded by servants, personal space hardly existed. Then came the age of the suburbs: drawing rooms, dining rooms, sitting rooms, living rooms, knitting rooms, computer rooms, work rooms, separate bedrooms ... dedicated spaces where one could escape and be alone.
Now we have come full circle back where we started: ever surrounded by people. Virtual people, real people, virtually real people, even really virtual people. Continually in contact, social boundaries eroded, in a sea of never ending communication. The result? No respite from questions, requests, argument, debate, meaningless chatter, and ego-inflating bluster. There is only one place left where one can barely escape (pun intended). The bathroom. Ubiquitous, never denied, an ever ready shelter, known by a wide variety of affectionate names, found everywhere from the hyper-extravagant home to the barely functional hovel, yet always the same. When I'm in there it's MY space. Here one can have the expectation of being alone, no intrusion. Read a book, reflect in the bath, sing in the shower, perform rituals at the basin, contemplate in the mirror. It's all yours, a time for your thoughts and emotions to renew their relationship. Until, of course, the sibling bangs on the door, someone shouts a question, the house mate demands access, or there's the call to dinner. Then it's over. The peace shattered, and the irritation multiplied by the intrusion into your thoughts. We know of no other place quite like this. Protect this last bastion of sanity with all your strength.
0 Comments
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
|