Dark Shower Thoughts
A Musing About My Brain
Dark Shower Thoughts
The shower was dark. The thoughts weren’t. It wasn’t on purpose.
I don’t even remember what I was thinking about before. That’s what happens when something suddenly shifts. Our brains don’t have the time to decide to remember.
It was loud. That’s all I remember. Oh, and about one-third of my shampoo still foamed on my scalp.
The vent fan was blaring (let’s all say no to bathroom mold, shall we!) and the faucet was spouting it’s continuous flow of forced rainstorm-like water and my own voice in my head was rambling through musings as if analyzing each one would solve all my problems by the time-
And then it was dark and quiet.
What the hell? Until I realized I’d set the 30 minute timer about 24 minutes ago. In my current state of burnout from work, and let’s be real, life at the moment, I’d been getting more forgetful by the hour. My future self will thank me for thinking ahead, I thought. Because last time I showered, approximately 4 days ago (that can be a topic for another day), I did forget to use the vent fan timer light, and only used the regular light. Faux pas, my dear. We ain’t gettin’ no mold up in here! To both conserve energy and give my eyes a break, I only use one light at a time. When the timer reaches 0 - no fan, no light.
Is this what it would be like if I were blind? As I settled into the new now and continued rinsing my hair, until my eyes adjusted and some spare light decided to creep under the door and join me in the shower. It was platonic.
I’m quite acquainted with the dark. Both the kind relating to photons and the emotional state. But we’ll focus on the photons today. I’ve soaked in hot springs in the dark. I’ve laid on the ground and watched the stars in the dark. I’ve walked through the forest and the desert with my dogs in the dark. I’ve pooped in a hole in the dark. I’ve snuck out of my childhood bedroom in the dark. I’ve eaten in the dark. I’ve knocked over a glass of water in the dark. Most of these several times, by the way. Like I said, we’re well acquainted, the dark and me. And now, I’ve showered in the dark!
It wasn’t really something I’d much thought about. Showering in the dark. But now that it happened, I have an entirely new perspective. Ok, well, maybe not entirely, but a new perspective at the very least. That’s what happens when we listen. When we pause long enough to process. When we slow down. We realize that we are shaped, even if it’s the tiniest movement within us, by everything we experience. And our senses have an exciting - and alluring - way of adjusting at a moment’s notice.
The peppermint from my bar of body soap smelled more peppermint-y.
I could feel the soreness in my left foot that I hadn’t noticed before from walking funny all day since when I stubbed one of my toes last night the rock I accidentally stepped into instead of next to sliced through the flesh at it’s tip. All I felt last night and today - before ‘dark shower experience’ - was the throbbing from the tip of said toe.
The water droplets hitting the stone floor of my walk-in shower suddenly sounded like an orchestra of each individual ‘plop’, collectively slamming against the tiles. Which actually sounds quite harsh and less peaceful when I describe it that way. Though it was, in fact, more peaceful than it sounds.
Already being someone who does weird things because I like to use my life for self-monitored science experiments (read: I like to challenge myself and I like to challenge life’s status quo), I quite liked it. Showering in the dark. It felt sort of like when I purposely use my left hand to brush my teeth. I’m right handed, by the way, if the inference wasn’t obvious. I do other weird things, too. I’ll probably talk about those another time. But what’s normal, anyway?
This whole ‘dark shower experience’ got me thinking. What would life be like if it were dark? I don’t mean blindness and let’s put the existential thoughts about an entirely cold world aside. Although, without light, if life were completely dark, would blindness exist? Would humans have eyes? Would humans exist?
Would plants have somehow still found a way to exist without photosynthesis? Would our hearing be incredible? How would we navigate our homes, our cities, our world? What would outdoor recreation be like? Would we still somehow create some way to communicate with writing? How would innovation and technology be different?
Sometimes questions are helpful. My brain both lives and dies by questions. And thinking is exhausting. So, before we part ways, I’ll leave you with this: what would the hydroids do all day with no light?