Every day, I shower with a 225-year-old musical genius. And every day, he inspires me as I soap up, scrub yesterday away, and emerge with a sparkling new canvas for the day. But it wasn’t always this way.
Actually, sometimes it’s not this poetic. Sometimes, we just exchange a cursory acknowledgement and it’s all business. But most times, when I push the button and the playlist begins, and I step into the warm water, the magic unfolds. I don’t know what it is about Mozart. It’s not like I’m a classical music aficionado. My childhood was Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton, and my teen years were Styx, Queen, K.C. and the Sunshine Band and Earth, Wind and Fire. I don’t really know how Mozart snuck in there. But from the first moment I heard the notes, my brain lit up and something epic was triggered…seriously.
Being a chronic overthinker, shower time had always posed a daunting and even dreaded daily chore. Not the actual showering of course, but the down time it provided. Down time that I would fill with pondering the dismal plight of the inner-city kids I tutored every week, feeling the angst of the latest political fights on social media, or beating myself up over the flabby tummy I was lathering up. So after years of emerging from the shower mentally and emotionally exhausted, I came up with the idea to shower with the one person who most calmed and inspired me, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. And it’s made all the difference.
When the Clarinet Concerto begins, my mind calms, my heartbeat slows and I’m filled with gratitude for the warm, cleansing water and the peace the music brings. And then, it starts: The possibilities unfurl before me. A new business idea. A creative solution to a nagging problem. An encouraging thought about how lucky I am to have such great friends. A sense that there is so much more life to be lived, adventure to be explored, ways to be of service. Mozart spurs my authentic self to come out and play. It’s as if he reached through the 225-year time warp, and like e.t. with his laser-red finger pointing to my heart says, “I’ll be right here.”
And after a time, I shut the water off, grab a towel, thank Wolfgang and put him back into his playlist until tomorrow when we will meet again. And then I begin my day.