I took a shower yesterday.

It was a lovely shower with lots of hot water. It was in the late morning. Above our shower is an open window, and in the late morning a beam of light that came through the window above the shower hitting the water. First of all, it created many tiny sparkly rainbows as the water and light interacted. The rainbows grew as I turned to look at them. Even more, the beam of light highlighted the infinite patterns of the mist pummeling through the air, shifting, turning, spinning into spirals, dissolving, breaking into tiny pieces and patterns, in its own tiny universe, while still mysteriously, miraculously, normal. It was a tiny and hidden housing the gorgeous infinite.

I was completely mesmerized by this, my jaw dropping. How hidden, how completely beautiful, how poetic. How transcendental.

Water + air + light.

In his poem Everything is Waiting for You, the poet David Whyte speaks to this:

Your great mistake is to act the drama as if you were alone. As if life were a progressive and cunning crime with no witness to the tiny hidden transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely, even you, at times have felt the grant array, the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding out your solo voice…