Water mindfulness

The hot water heater is in the garage, and the closest faucet is in kitchen, yet it takes 5+ minutes for the water in the sink to get hot enough to wash dishes. It’s faster to get hot water into the master bathroom shower, all the way across the house – the opposite corner from the garage!

The time it takes to get hot water to the sink in the master bathroom is almost as long as to the kitchen. None of this makes any sense to me. Why does it take so long for the water at the closest location to the water heater to be hot? Why does the shower get hot water before the bathroom sink? Plumbing should be pretty straight forward, right? Straight pipes whenever possible, so straight forward. I don’t get it. Hot water in the shower, but not in the sinks.

As I was waiting for hot water to arrive to my sink last night so I could wash off mascara and makeup and the day, I held the fingers of my left hand under the running water. I stood there with my fingers and my thumb, but not my entire hand, seeing and feeling the water pour over them. I thought what a great time to practice mindfulness – simply notice what I feel and describe it. But how do I describe water? Just try.

It’s a smooth, silky, soft, slippery slender stream coming from the faucet to my hand. It’s warm (not yet hot). It cascades over one finger at a time. Before it falls off the last finger, it converges on my pinkie and becomes a narrow single stream again, looking as it does from the faucet to my fingers, before it gently splays into the basin and becomes a shiny surface. It gathers at the drain and disappears.

But does that describe it? And then I thought of Helen Keller and Anne Sullivan, and wondered about the miracle of the language breakthrough, as Helen suddenly understood what Anne was trying to communicate. The trepidation, the excitement, the joy that must have broken over them separately but simultaneously. Helen so eager to know words for everything, Anne delighted yet knowing there was so much more to be taught. Now my focus was off the water and running down the story from a childhood book.

Wait. Bring my thoughts back to the water. Ahh, it’s hot enough to wash my face now. Time for bed.

The Path to Solitude

Across gravel drive, across gravel road,
Up second drive to
Grass freshly mowed.

Blue sky above, green hill to climb,
White puffy clouds,
The hike is sublime.

Top of the hill, fields on both sides –
Ragweed and wildflowers
And tall grasses to hide.

Trees to the right, dark up ahead.
Temperature drops;
No hat on my head.

Shade of the rock steals the heat of the sun.
Keep walking on,
See and hear no one.

The path just got muddy; think I’ll turn around.
Walk back to the grass and
Sit on the ground.

An effort at mindfulness, be quiet, be still.
Be here in this moment
As I sit on this hill.

Focus, breathe, count to four, start again.
But what is that noise?
Close your eyes, now open.

Sit still and listen, it’s close to me.
Look around slowly, it’s the
Sound of this tree!

The wind blows and bark flaps, that’s what I hear.
The aspen is peeling on
This tree that is near.

Notice the ant army as they march down their hole.
Does the leader shout orders so they know
Where to go?

A feeling of peace as I rest in the sun.
A short nap; I awake.
This walk has been fun.

Writing201 Poetry: map (topic), ode (poetic firm), metaphor (literary device)