My thoughts this holiday weekend were swirling with the need to relax. To unwind. To find a way to be less stressed, all in the course of a three-day weekend. As I was making mental lists of all the things that needed to be done, I was also listing out ways that I could consciously take a break from the hustle and bustle of life.
So… I took a bath.
I dumped an entire carton of bath salts into the hot water, lit a few candles, and got in. I sat there a few minutes with calming music playing, swishing my fingers in the water to make little waves and ripples.
And I hated it.
Not just a general dislike. No, I really, really could not stand to be there. The candles made the air thick and everything reeked of vanilla. The water was waist deep and tepid after just a few minutes.
With my wildly unsuccessful bath, I realized that I am not going to relax like everyone else. It’s a cliche and I didn’t enjoy it at all. Friends of mine are all glorifying the idea of the simple life and finding magic in ordinary moments. I get it — I just don’t want to embrace the simplicity. Because as much as a warm bath is a comfort, there is a wild and surging energy when I accomplish something. I’m addicted to the thrill. I want to grab life with both hands and become a someone. You know that person — the person who has seized their goals and grasped at them and held them tight for a brilliant flash of beautiful success. Those are the people who have seen all that life offers and have truly lived.
I don’t know if I’ll take another bath anytime soon, but I am already looking for that next thing, that piece of life that is worth the effort and the work, and the blood, and the sweat, and the tears. I am looking for a little thing in life to capture and call my own.
And the only way to find that is to get to work.