January 12, 2010: Looking back, I've found many things in my toilet. (You'll recall the spiritual discoveries I recounted in my August 29, 2009, entry "Finding God In My Toilet.") Well, I'm pleased to report that the miracles continue.
Once again, the "Church" brand name -- a holy blue inscription painted under the lid of the best toilet seats, or at least the most holy -- followed me to the workplace. Imagine the comfort and joy that came just this week when, in the middle of my daily toil, I raised the lid and found my brand of spirituality there at work, just inviting me to get on my knees and pray (were the floors cleaner).
A cerebral man by nature, this experience -- after I washed my hands -- started me to thinking about what it is that makes the toilet such a wonderful place for me. I've addressed the spiritual aspect on more than one occasion, and have written extensively about the privacy and vital solitude of this most holy of sanctuaries. (For those of you who haven't read it, my novel "TEMPORARY INSANITY" offers an articulate summation of my American toilet, and I'd recommend you buy a copy, except it hasn't been published yet, so be patient and read something else for now.) The conclusion I drew this time, however, is that the toilet is a place where I can go and be accepted unconditionally, and this may be its most giving feature.
I don't have to put on airs in the toilet, if you'll forgive the pun. I can be myself. Where else can I go for such a forthright experience -- to stand before (or sit upon) a veritable sanctuary of acceptance -- one that never judges me, no matter to what foul depths my behavior may deteriorate. The toilet is always open for us -- frank and without criticism, willing to tolerate our ugliest sides, even when no one else will, and never one to abandon us even if we occasionally clog it.
Toilets not only service our spiritual and physical needs, but our emotional ones as well. I'd like you think about this next time you have to go. Sure, you're probably making the trip there to drop something off, but perhaps it's time to thing about what it is that you're taking with you when you leave ...
Showing posts with label Temporary Insanity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Temporary Insanity. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Finding God In My Toilet
August 30, 2009: Those of you who've read my first novel TEMPORARY INSANITY -- (I know there are at least two of you out there, plus my late mentor, who committed suicide shortly after finishing it) -- know that two of my recurring literary themes are 1) going to the bathroom, and 2) God. What you may not recognize, however, is how often life imitates art, as an experience I had yesterday afternoon clearly demonstrates.
I was on a lovely walk down by Burying Hill Beach in Westport, CT, when I was overcome with a gut-wrenching compulsion to evacuate. Like Archie Bunker -- another fictitious character -- I fight to confine my waste-expulsion practices to my own home, but on rare occasions necessity thwarts custom, and with my car a good mile away and my intestines roiling like I'd swallowed a live ferret, it seemed only practical to take whatever opportunity I could find.
Imagine my delighted disbelief to discover not only a clean single bathroom with a lock on the door, but enough paper supplies for an entire army of incontinent men. I indulged myself with a sort of hearty gusto, took my time and care, and even washed my hands with the lovely machine-dispensed soap foam the Parks & Rec Department provided. In a state of gratitude, I noted to myself that God (Fate, Higher Power, the Universe, whatever the hell you want to call it) had seen to lead me to this literal sanctuary atop the hill, meeting the needs of a traveling pilgrim who viciously had to take a dump.
Before leaving, as a courtesy to the next incontinent man who'd need to sit, I flipped the seat up so it wouldn't be carelessly peed upon in the coming hours ... And printed underneath in soft, blue letters, there was that word again ... as it was reported being under the toilet seat in my novel -- "Church."
An inspired company, no doubt, meeting a great need of mankind with its unique and obviously spiritual brand of porcelain. Once again the lesson was clear, as it was demonstrated for my protagonist in my book -- (to paraphrase) Dogmas and doctrines will shift and pass (if you'll forgive the imagery), but when all is said and done, here is where you can always find peace, contentment and relief -- the trappings of a true spiritual experience!
Amen!
I was on a lovely walk down by Burying Hill Beach in Westport, CT, when I was overcome with a gut-wrenching compulsion to evacuate. Like Archie Bunker -- another fictitious character -- I fight to confine my waste-expulsion practices to my own home, but on rare occasions necessity thwarts custom, and with my car a good mile away and my intestines roiling like I'd swallowed a live ferret, it seemed only practical to take whatever opportunity I could find.
Imagine my delighted disbelief to discover not only a clean single bathroom with a lock on the door, but enough paper supplies for an entire army of incontinent men. I indulged myself with a sort of hearty gusto, took my time and care, and even washed my hands with the lovely machine-dispensed soap foam the Parks & Rec Department provided. In a state of gratitude, I noted to myself that God (Fate, Higher Power, the Universe, whatever the hell you want to call it) had seen to lead me to this literal sanctuary atop the hill, meeting the needs of a traveling pilgrim who viciously had to take a dump.
Before leaving, as a courtesy to the next incontinent man who'd need to sit, I flipped the seat up so it wouldn't be carelessly peed upon in the coming hours ... And printed underneath in soft, blue letters, there was that word again ... as it was reported being under the toilet seat in my novel -- "Church."
An inspired company, no doubt, meeting a great need of mankind with its unique and obviously spiritual brand of porcelain. Once again the lesson was clear, as it was demonstrated for my protagonist in my book -- (to paraphrase) Dogmas and doctrines will shift and pass (if you'll forgive the imagery), but when all is said and done, here is where you can always find peace, contentment and relief -- the trappings of a true spiritual experience!
Amen!
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