Going Behind the Curtain

By Sean McVeigh

A lot happened this week. It seems like a lot happens every week these days.

Pope Francis’ death was both shocking and, somehow, not shocking at all. Regardless, it was a monumental moment for the world. Closer to home, there was a devastating fire at St. Edmund Church in Breezy Point, just the day before Easter Sunday — a loss that ripples through a community. On top of all that, my wife and I just returned from a week away. We flew — twice — which means I now have a fresh batch of complaints and observations about air travel to really get my blood pressure up to dangerous levels. (Don’t worry, I’ll spare you — for now.) And then the city had to go and announce new rules for the boardwalk bike lanes to really put a cherry on top of this blockbuster week.

It’s weeks like this I often struggle to land on exactly what to write about. There are so many little threads I could tug on. There are too many directions to go in, and my brain is like a browser with 43 tabs open — most of them playing audio. And yet, somehow, I can’t pin down what exactly I want to take and really flesh out into a full-fledged column.

When I hit that wall, there is only one thing to do: take a shower.

Not just any shower, of course. My shower. In my house. There’s something about it that resets everything. It’s a pause button, a quiet reprieve. As soon as that water hits, the clutter in my brain starts to clear. Ideas don’t always fall into perfect order, but they loosen up a bit. The world outside may still be on fire — literally or metaphorically — but in that space, it all slows down for just a minute.

But the shower isn’t limited to fixing a bad case of writer’s block. It’s so much more than that. It’s the magic elixir for all of life’s ailments.

Is there anything better than a warm shower after a brutally cold day? Well, maybe a cold shower after a steamy day on the beach. When you’re coming down with that cold and feeling like crap, a shower is the best medicine. And when you want to go out and paint the town red, the only way to start the night is with a refreshing shower.

No matter what the reason, as long as the water pressure is high and temperature is right, all the world’s distractions fade away.

The shower is a little break from whatever the chaos du jour is. A place where you can finally hear yourself think. And sometimes, that is all you need to get your thoughts in order.

Shower thoughts are real. Sometimes it feels like I’ve written entire novels in there — none of which make it out, of course, because shampoo bottles are terrible at taking dictation. For me, the shower is a sacred space. A temple of tile. A soapy sanctuary.

So yes, this week was full. Full of loss, of travel, of headlines and heartbreak. But it also had at least one really good shower. And that, oddly enough, helped me wrap my head around it all.