Reverb 10: Moment.

by Dian Reid-Jancic· Follow Dian on

There’s a moment that’s been stuck in my mind the entire year. A moment I cherish and relive every time I step into the bathtub. Some of this post was originally published on January 3, 2010, where I engaged my body in feeling—feeeeeeling—life. Like this one, that post—coincidentally (or not)—was also inspired by a Gwen Bell driven project, The Mindfulist.


I turn on the water and twist the lever to 10 o’clock. 9 o’clock sets the water at scalding, 11 at icy (at least for my taste). I plug the drain with a white rubber stopper that I have to first find, then dig out of one of the baskets on the wall. A clear sign that it’s been way too long since I last enjoyed a bath. I press play on my iPod and meditation music begins.

The water steams up from the tub. I worry it’s not hot enough until I step in. It’s hot. The water wraps itself around my toes, my ankles, my calves, my thighs, my belly, my elbows, my shoulders, my neck.

As I set my back against the porcelain tub, I notice the coolness of the area above the heated water. I sink lower into the water so my neck is submerged, right to my chin.

I look down the length of the tub. I see the reflection of the chrome overflow cover in the water. I notice the shimmer and movement of the water as I breathe.

I take baths to relax and get reacquainted with my inner sense of calm. It strikes me that there is no stillness on the water, and yet I feel a quiet, steady, still energy embrace me and move me into tranquility. I embrace this tranquility in silence.

My breaths are slow and long; some deep, some shallow. My meditation track comes to a graceful end, and I sit up easy to pull the drain stop. I hover over the drain to watch the water slip out quietly, my legs crossed in contemplation. I wonder when the water will begin to circle? What makes the water circle? Ah, there it goes… And I watch as the water begins to tornado towards the drain. The lower the water gets, the larger the tornado tunnel becomes. I imagine my tension being whisked away by this twisted water. Less and less water, until it’s completely gone.

I feel relaxed. I feel calm. I feel whole. I feel me. And all at once, I’m struck by how me I really am. More so than I was yesterday, less so than I will be tomorrow, and no more, no less than I could be in this moment.

I replace the drain stop in the basket from which I retrieved it upon drawing my bath. I turn the water on once again to 10 o’clock. I shower because I’ve always felt odd about just taking bath and sitting in my own filth. But not this time. This time, I just want to feel the hot water needling my back for a moment. I feel a slight pang of guilt in my brief waste of water, and then I let go. I lather, I rinse, I repeat.


That post was about nurturing the little moments and not letting the big moments overshadow the beauty of the former. As I look back on 2010, I believe I did a good job of nurturing the little moments. Not because I have a long list of little moments I’ve kept alive, but because where I am today feels good. Feels nurtured. Feels loved. Feels me.

Our lives are so much so made up of the little things. We simply tend to focus on the big things because they’re right in our line of sight. The big things will not allow us to forget them. So let’s spend some time nurturing the little things and maybe, just maybe the big things will thank us.

This post is written as Day 3 of Reverb 10, inspired and created by Gwen Bell (Best of ’09) and her rockingly awesome cohorts. Are you reverbing too? I’d love for you to share yourself in the comments below.

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