If there is a heaven, and many believe there is, it has a hot tub. Three hundred years ago there were perhaps ten or twenty people in the entire world, kings and queens all, who at any hour day or night could lower themselves into a piping hot tub of clean water. Those hot tubs of old required the constant toil of others – to find, cut and haul wood, stoke and tend fires, gather and move heated stones, draw and carry fresh water. In great jewel-encrusted golden tubs the royals of antiquity soaked away their worries and relaxed, while their soaking habit mobilized an entire economy of workers. Just think of it: today an average guy like me with a hot tub can live life like a king.
This year spring has been particularly wet and watery, a liquid luxury after several years of drought. I can sense the bamboo shoots lurking just below the soil’s surface, their root rhizomes fat with sugary sap and poised to soar skyward at six inches a day. The succulents that have survived in the wet winter ground are plump with water, some looking more like green toads than plants. Japanese maples are leafing out quickly, several weeks earlier than last year. Moss and lichen form a soft green shawl draped heavily around the arms and branches of our huge Black Walnut. As days lengthen, the garden is quickly coming to life.
On Friday when it rained I stopped working for a while, left my desk, made my way downstairs and outside to the garden, removed my clothes and sank slowly into our hot tub. Submerged up to my neck in 102 degree water, warmly protected from the chilly elements, the heavy rain drops on my head felt cool and soothing. “I’m completely wet,” I thought, “I can’t get any wetter.” I tipped my head back against the side of the tub and let the steady rain plainly strike my face and open mouth. Rainwater, in case you’ve never tried it, tastes sweet. The tall wind-whipped Eucalyptus trees sighed loudly and swayed broadly as if beckoning a great force, the bamboo hissed and bowed deeply. Suddenly, there was a massive downpour. For a moment heaven and earth were fully joined by water, and then almost as fast, the rain moved on across the valley floor.
Opening my eyes, I pushed myself upright, and sat facing east. I could see the rain gaining distance quickly, a gray mist sweeping in dark swaying curtains over the Mayacamas mountains. Behind me, the thick clouds suddenly broke open and brilliant golden sunlight sliced into the garden and filled the sky above. For a fleeting moment, a vibrant rainbow all-at-once appeared, curving majestically across the darkness above the mountains to the east. Then the sunlight disappeared behind the thick clouds, the wind resumed and once again it began to pour.
I slipped back down into the soothing water, buoyant and almost floating, cradled like a baby in his mother’s womb. I closed my eyes and totally relaxed. Suddenly the perfection of all and everything was clear, not a single rain drop out of place, every leaf, every cloud, every moment just as it is, absolutely perfect and complete.
There is, you see, a heaven after all.
