If I were Hollister Thomas it would have been yoga.
If I were a marine it would have been reveille and clean up.
If I were Jennifer Aniston it would have been hot water with lemon, a face scrub, then 20 minutes of meditation.
But because I’m me I started today with a bath. A possibility bath.
A possibility bath has one rule:
Only let your mind drift to what you want.
Emphatically this means not to what you don’t want.
As long as you’re bathtubbing it, worries and adverse outcomes are forbidden.
It’s a simple rule: Your bathtub reveries focus on desires. Whether you feel they can happen or not.
It’s about possibilities after all, not what is most likely.
As we all know, possibilities that seem outlandish at first have a habit of sneaking into our reality fairly regularly when we make them our focus.
(Like here: Finding an erotic book in Paris)
(And here: They went looking for it)
This is the place you come to play.
Oh, I suppose there’s more than one rule. There’s an implied condition: That they be fun gwishes. The kind that energize you. The kind that tickle your fantasies. And make you smile.
Here’s Havi Brooks on gwishes:
Anyway, I needed a word.
For the thing that is not a goal and not a wish.
And not a dream and not a mission. And not a project.
It’s a gwish.
Because it’s fun to say. Gwish gwish gwish gwish.
And because it isn’t as scary to talk about a gwish as it is to share a tiny, sweet thing that is vulnerable and in need of protection.
I gwished it up for 15 minutes — it’s all I had — I had to get my son off to a chess tourney. Yet it was all the time I needed. To stretch beyond my customary brainspan.
Try a possibility bath sometime. You, au naturel, in warm bubbly waters . . . you’re halfway there already as soon as you slip in.
May your finest, most frolicsome tubdreams weasel their way into your experience soon.
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