Letting Go

by Dian Reid-Jancic· Follow Dian on

I turn on the water. Hotter than usual. Only I don’t realize that until I step in. Before I step into it, I pour epsom salt into the half-filled tub. When the tub is full of water, well above the emergency drain opening, I step in. My feet feel an immediate piercing pain.

It takes me a moment to recognize that it’s the water and not piranhas nipping at my toes and ankles and calves. I put one hand on each side of the tub and hoist myself out of the water for a moment. I step back in. The epsom salt has not fully dissolved. I wonder if I’m having an allergic reaction. I pull myself back out and examine my feet. My toes are white. My feet are cold. I realize that the pain is from the water being hot. I step back into the tub and let the water pierce my skin and pull the toxins out. I don’t know if that’s what is scientifically happening, but I feel the energy drawing out what I wish to be gone. The water is hot and I stay.

A book is sitting outside the tub. The Count of Monte Cristo. I forget the book is there until after I meditate. I breathe in, I breathe out. I notice the quality of my breath. It is raspy. It is calm. My heart erratically pounds. The pain in my feet and calves subside and my heart returns to a healthy, rhythmic cadence. I awaken from my meditation and sit up, ready to drain the tub. I am fascinated with the tornado looking swirl that happens just above the drain as the water is pulled down. As I watch the last bit of water fade away, the room goes suddenly dark. I wonder if the power has gone out. Then I remember the light switch has a motion sensor. I have been silent and unmoving for twenty minutes. I stand up and the light goes back on. My body steams from the hot water, even after twenty minutes. I dry off and see my book resting beside the tub. I take it with me when I get ready for bed.

As I lay in bed, I think about my heated, piercing meditation. I think about the quality of my breath. Only a day of disconnecting and I feel calmer. I wonder how long this will last. I think I should make a list of how to make this last. Instead, I pull out a crossword puzzle book and finish two puzzles. I only check for answers once. I pick up The Count and read two chapters. My eyelids are ready for slumber. I turn out the light and I oblige.

As I write this now, looking back at the bath, I recognize its significance in beginning my week of letting go. I was uncomfortable with disconnecting, although I knew it needed to be done. The bath allowed me to sit in the discomfort until I became comfortable with it. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t the piercing pain that cured me of unwanted energy. It was sitting in my own energy, with my own energy, long enough to recognize what energy was there. Only then could I know what I was ready to let go of.

  • Sounds delightful. It's kind of amazing how rejuvenating and restorative a hot bath can be. And I love watching my finger pads wrinkle up in that special way, don't you? Continue to enjoy your time out!

  • Dian – again I feel like we're traveling such similar paths!! “It was sitting in my own energy, with my own energy, long enough to recognize what energy was there.” I've been remembering to sit with/in my emotions/energy lately – allowing ones up that I've been ignoring.

    Love your work – love you! And OH – what Emma said!!

  • whollyjeanne

    the water was hot – painfully hot – and yet you stayed. nice.

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