Prophecies in the Bathroom

Speak and we listen, oh wise oracle

My roommate’s loofah is an oracle.

As it sits unassumingly on the bathtub’s rim in all its rough, spongy banality, it communicates with the gods and is our mediator, though I do not presume to call it our friend.

Its strange shape– the mysterious internal chambers, the bizarre woven texture, the evenly regulated rippling of its exterior—is designed to absorb the gods’ will and disperse it throughout the bathroom as if in a fine prophetical mist. How many times have I been in the bathroom when I am visited by intense revelations: insights into my future after I return from Egypt, novel birthday gift ideas, meals I should eat later on in the day, the appropriate length to which I should cut my bangs?

Before I knew the truth, I thought these moments of brilliance were the result of my own cognitions. Now I know they came from the sponge.

The oracle is ancient. Before this apartment building, before the city of Cairo had even been conceived of in thought or deed, the oracle quietly existed. In the time of the ancient Greeks, sandaled men and women would journey on foot for days with baskets and pots on their heads just to seek the oracle’s presence, and if they were lucky, its prophecies. It was revered by all, though they feared to worship it because of the gods’ anger.

The oracle itself did not want their worship; it wanted quiet. It longed to cease answering the absurd petitions of man and meld its consciousness completely with that of the gods. Daily and nightly it was pulled out of its reverie to a brash existence, greedy humans grubbing after what was not theirs to know. Who could ever truly understand the will of the gods?

The Greeks came and went, as did countless other civilizations, the piles of rubble growing and shrinking with the ages, until Cairo came, and the sponge was once again lifted up, into our bathroom, onto the bathtub’s rim where it now sits enigmatically, an endless stream of communication flowing between it and heaven.

I now realize I misspoke. The loofah could not belong to my roommate any more than the Rocky Mountains could belong to the United States. These kinds of things are not simply owned. Indeed, because the loofah oracle did not belong to me, I assumed it was my roommate’s and she likely assumes the same.

This is the wisdom of the oracle. It quietly leads us down paths of assumption, all the while safeguarding its own peace. It does not even pay the price of having to scrub elbows and backs and instead gently perfumes the air with knowledge, leading us to greater insights.

And today is the last day it gets a free ride. As far as I’m concerned, things are about to get exfoliated up in here. Just wait until the weather gets warm enough for everyday sandal wearing—I don’t care much for prophecies but I do need something to sand down the horns that grow on my feet. Thanks oracle!

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53 thoughts on “Prophecies in the Bathroom

  1. […] in Boston and was instantly hooked. Turns out, I loved exhibitionism and making even my most ridiculous thoughts available for the world.  I blogged almost every day for a […]

  2. You are of course aware that ‘oracle’ also means ‘burden’… right? 😉

  3. It’s true these are ancient creatures. My mom, who is Japanese, used to grow them in the back garden:

    http://tlc.howstuffworks.com/style/grow-loofah.htm

  4. yablogtherapy says:

    It’s hilarious how poetic this is!

  5. Steven Wantz says:

    Remember, the answer is 42. 10 points if you understand this…

  6. milksmith says:

    My husband is Greek….and he takes two-hour long showers. I must get him to read this lol.

  7. Hala J. says:

    Huh…my loofah just hangs on the shower hook mostly looking pathetic. Where’s the wisdom? Think that perhaps I’m not listening closely enough?

    Waaaiiit…I always think of new ideas while in the shower too! Loofah….wow, you’re a sneaky bastard aren’t you?

  8. The words loofah and oracle in the same sentence? Now,THAT’s magical, and possibly Pulitzer Prize material.

    Great funny post.

    Mr Bricks

  9. El Guapo says:

    And lo, on the sixth day, the loofah didst scrub the expired layers form the flesh of the people. And yea, in doing so, the loofah didst induct the washed heathen into the great mysteries of the tub and given insight into the question of the ages:
    Shampoo – scented and unscented?

    Amen.

  10. You can take your feet and the loofah on the road if that turns out to be the case.

  11. Does the Loofah demand that all of your body & hair cleansing products match in color and size?

  12. My nerd might be showing, but have you ever seen where loofah sponges come from? They are the seedpods of a plant! The ever omniscient Wikipedia tells all: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luffa.

  13. ΤΟ ΠΙΤΣΙΡΙΚΙ says:

    Reblogged this on ΤΟ ΠΙΤΣΙΡΙΚΙ.

  14. Vince Chough says:

    The wisdom of the Loofah springs forth from its exploration of metaphysical cracks and crannies…

  15. shoes says:

    Ah, and now I see the error of my ways. For where a Loofah should reside, there hangs in my shower a fluffy bunch of peach mesh, woven and knotted together and hanging on a cream colored rope – man made – and silent. Not the silence of reverence, oh no, the silence one can only hear from a snobbish shower scrub.

  16. Jas says:

    Ha ha.. got to check my bathroom for the magical sensation of my loofah…

  17. sillyliss says:

    Oh my word, you have a beautiful bathroom. No wonder God is living in there with you, in loofah form.

    • edrevets says:

      It is a nice bathroom—I’m very lucky because the last bathroom I had was not only an eyesore, but it smelled bad constantly and the shower curtain would touch me.

  18. 99% of prophecies never come true.. yet people never stop making those assumptions.

  19. Great. YOU get a self aware, prophetical loofah. All I got is a sentient toaster that sings show tunes.

  20. Lady Sensory says:

    I had to throw my ‘oracle’ out. I kept telling me dirty jokes.

  21. Bird says:

    lol..Are all Loofah’s magical? Because all mine does is complain…

  22. Does the Loofah have an appointment schedule I can book in with?

  23. Deity freeloading put to an end. And when your feet start to have visions . . . you may want to consider a scrub.

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