Washing my hands at the bathroom sink, I instinctively reached for the soap dish. As usual, it was heaped with half a dozen scraps of bars from batches I have made. Hand washing is a frequent activity, and I don’t much think about selections made here; minty, earthy, spicy, floral. Each is lovely in its own way.
A few feet from this over-crowded soap dish, the small cubby in my shower features proper-sized bars. Though the same amount of variety is available, here I am more selective, depending on my mood or on what support I need in that moment. I tend to pause, consider how I feel and what lies ahead for the day, then choose with intention. It’s a routine of privilege, really, having so many options.
One of my greatest joys has been sharing with others the soaps I create. I marvel at the magical transformation from raw materials to finished product, and am excited to share what I love with others.
With literally hundreds of bars in my home at any given time, I have never really thought that what I do is particularly special. It isn’t difficult, once you learn. Many other people do it, and are more talented, or more technically adept. Or both. I have made disastrous batches, mediocre batches, and spectacular batches. Here’s the thing: You don’t have to be the only one doing something for it to be special. You don’t have to be the best at it for it to be exceptional.
I don’t know what took so long, but only recently has it occurred to me that soapmaking is one of my gifts to the world. That world includes me! I wonder how many of us don’t acknowledge our gifts, or know how to appreciate them as do others. Thinking of the people I know, both intimately and casually, I revel in how they enrich my life in ways they may not know. I will tell them, in case they are missing out on enjoying their own gifts. Each of us has something to offer; something that puts a joyful energy into the universe. What is yours?
Embrace the uniqueness that is you. Be the recipient of your own gifts.
Now go wash your hands.
Love,
d
