Well after Midnight. Earlier tonight I was really looking forward to writing. Some time between then and now I’ve lost the plot a little. Partly it’s because I was programming for a while, and the logical part of my brain gets going and I don’t feel like being expressive in words. But as Elizabeth Gilbert recommends in her TED lecture, I’m showing up to do the work anyway.

Earlier, when I was excited about sitting down and writing, I had this really quiet, but powerful experience. It came about as the combination of several factors. I picked up Eat, Pray, Love today and began to read it. I’m not very far. Page 14 I think. I read just a bit of it at work, and a little bit in the bathtub.

The bathtub is really what this is all about after all. And I’m writing this knowing that my words will not properly convey the alchemy that went on inside me when I was sitting in the bathtub earlier tonight. But I’ll do my best anyway.

Part I: Robert Heinlein wrote A Stranger in a Strange Land. Their expression of love, and the philosophy of the members of the Church of All Worlds is one of the most powerful influences on my life. They have a simple ritual called water-sharing. “Share water, grow closer brother.” Recently Oberon Zell worked with many of the pagan leaders in the Chicago area and held his Church of All Worlds version of the water-sharing ritual amidst the grand pagentry of a community ritual.

The other day, Gapers-Block posted a piece written by a non-pagan who was at the ritual (where some of my brothers called the Worlds and Genii Loci). He mentioned Sayre, whom I’ve only met briefly, and whom is apparently a water-conservation expert, and whom I find undeniably beautiful. Water has been on my mind a lot recently, not in the least because I’m considering giving up soda pop for June, and possibly the entire summer. I’ve also been writing a lot about emotional stuff lately, and lunar influences and energies. And of course, all of this is tied up in the idea of water, the magnetic force, or what I refer to as contractive force.

Ever since I first read Stranger in a Strange Land, I’ve felt there is something sacred about water. And I’m recognizing a lot lately that I need to take some time and do a lot of work with water. For instance, work on divination and spirit communication (which I have not done in the last couple weeks, but I plan on reapproaching very soon). For instance, taking some time to myself to consider my relationships.

Part II: So there’s this whole Sacred water, water sharing, water of life, mysteries of water theme going on. Then I was reading Eat, Pray, Love. As I’ve said, I’ve only read a short piece of it, but I get the impression that I am going to enjoy every moment of this book, and that I am going to read it many many times in the years to come.

I won’t spoil the experience for you, but I will say that reading the introduction and gleaning an understanding of how the book was written and structured was a really happy start. Then I was in the bath, reading some more, and I came upon this passage:

I used to have this really great dog. She came from the pound. She was a mixture of about ten different breeds, but seemed to have inherited the finest features of them all. She was brown. When people asked me “What kind of dog is that?” I would always give the same answer: “She’s a brown dog.” Similarly, when the questoin is raised, “What kind of God do you believe in?” my answer is easy: “I believe in a magnificent God.”

“I believe in a magnificent God.”

Yes. Including the page prior to this passage, Elizabeth Gilbert has expressed a fundamental truth about religion, and more importantly to me, about my own personal belief and the experience of the Divine. After reading that last sentence I put the book down to ponder it and enjoy my bath. This is of course when I got excited about writing tonight.

Part III: I was sitting in my deep tub, and the water was pretty hot. There was arabian Myrrh incense burning, and the bathroom was lit by a few tea-light candles. As I lay back, it struck me how smooth the surface of the water in the tub was, and immediately following that, I found myself entranced by the mist that was rising off the surface of the water, rolling and hovering there, illuminated by candle light, making the clear water, and my nude body appear lit from within by some greater light.

What followed is impossible to describe. All I can truly say is that every sacred experience I’ve ever had in a bath tub (which is more than you might guess), was valid and important, and present for a few moments. Time kind of went away and I was just theo, in the tub, supported and caressed by the steaming water, embraced by the waters of life, and I felt briefly the joy that Michael Valentine Smith must have felt when Immersing himself in the waters of life.

I’m yawning. Done for now. Share the Gift(of water).