Clarity

Standing there.  Water raining down.  Heat, humidity, scalding water, burning steam.  Falling down, down, down.  Coming into contact with flesh, bouncing off, leading pink in its wake where the heat brought blood to the surface of the skin.  All quiet except for the noises of the water, hitting skin, tile, plastic, pouring down the drain.  A symphony of steam.

In that moment, everything else is gone.  Nothing else matters.  The rest of the world is lost, abandoned, incapable of permeating the sweltering depths of the shower.  Time ceases to pass.  All that is left is me and the water.  Fighting against my body, yet helping it to attain health.  The heat is suffocating, stealing breath and life, yet relaxing, causing tense muscles to melt and soften, smooth and relax.

It's a time to relax, to think, to not be disturbed by anyone around me.  It's an opportunity to forget the rest of the world.  And it's wonderful.  There are days when that is the best part of my life, and days when it's simply a hassle to get over with for the purpose of getting clean.  But for the most part, I love just standing there, feeling the water hit my skin, the heat stifle my breathing, and just think.

Showers are my little moments of clarity.  They are sometimes the only times I get to myself, and for that, I adore them.  They are my rest, my relaxation, my meditation.  They are, arguably, as good a medicine as I could get.