“I have heard your paintings too well enough. / God has given you one face, and you make yourself / another. You jig, you amble, and you lisp, and Nickname God’s creatures, and make your wantonness / your ignorance. Go to, I’ll no more on’t it has made me / mad. I say we will have no more marriages. Those that are / married already, but one, shall live. The rest shall / Keep as they are. To a nunnery, go.”--Hamlet, Act 3, Scene 1, Shakespeare
There is a sacred place I envelope myself at the end of the day. With lights drawn low and in silent absolute solitude, I slip into the steamy waters of my ceremonious bathtub. This is a religious experience. The liquid is just hot enough to castigate myself for the regrets of the day. I offer my regrets to the waters, seeking forgiveness and reconciliation. In the quiet, my demons appear and, one-by-one they are vanquished and replaced with resolve. I do not reach to touch the swaths of flesh that quiver on my side. I do not glance down at my scarred breasts and surgically mutilated belly, I push away the slight memory of a youthful body, now replaced with a splintered and weathered woman. Within moments my body disappears, and I am floating. I give thanks to the universe. Finally, I pray for the future and gaze triumphantly as the past trickles away through the drain. I am cleansed through body and soul. This is renewal.
