Naked Thought.

       Prompt: Everyone has a place where they feel most safe. Where the brain unravels and melts down through the body like a liquid blanket. In this place, this comfortable realm, thoughts run rampant through our garden-minds, watering and tilling the seedling ideas planted throughout our day.
       So the question is: What is this safe place for you? Where does your mind find its respite? What kinds of things are unleashed? And most importantly, What do you do with them once they are free to roam? 
3344939753_72d8d1fc92_o-2

I’ve always written my best thesis statements in the shower. Something about stepping into the airy wisps of steam and shutting the curtain makes me feel safe and free to think and create. Dewy condensation extracts my thoughts allowing them to float and hover around me while the steady rainfall of water rolls down my scalp cleansing my thoughts and soothing the overheated gears of my overactive brain.

Showers are my “writer’s respite”. No screens or papers sit unbudgingly before my eyes; no keys or pens wait anxiously for my hands to touch them; just stillness and solitude: the perfect breeding ground for creativity and clarity.
I love that like my body, my thoughts are free to be naked and raw. No clothes, no conventions, no red markings; just the warm flowing liquid, soothing soap, and gentle loofah working in unison to exfoliate the countless dead cells of negativity and worry clogging my creative pores.   

Standing safely behind a shower curtain, the beady eyes of my general audience are blocked from view; I no longer see their judgment. When I write, my thoughts are naked and vulnerably displayed on the pedestal of the page, but here in my shower-haven nakedness is not vulnerable, it’s powerful and gleaming with honest truth.

       
Once the creative juices begin flowing, they generally do not stop until I leave my warm comfort zone and reenter the fast-paced world just beyond the steamy air. Before the cold can drain away my precious creations, I race to my writer’s notebook—dripping-wet and towel-wrapped—and feverishly spill my bubbling, infant thoughts onto the page. 

Now when I feel the tight grip of ivy beginning to choke my creative mind, I close my eyes, step into the warm-dense safety of my mental shower, and welcome the steady stream of calming water washing my fears down the drain.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s