Lessons in Zen in the Toilet Afterlife

Where: Whitsell Auditorium, Portland Art Museum
1219 SW Park Avenue

Highlights: Native American artwork,
no hoverers, Zen
Problems: Bright hospital lights, too white,
sterile= constipation inducing

According to an online quiz, I was a unicorn in a past life and, because of my experience as a unicorn, I now behave like a character in a fairytale. I have read story after story of people who recounted astonishing facts supposedly learned from their past lives. People suddenly speak Russian under hypnoses or remember the names and faces of family members from medieval Scotland. No one, under hypnosis, ever remembers their life as a cockroach or conducts extensive research into monkeys to understand why they have a compulsive desire to swing on branches using their tail.

So why do we remember what we remember? Do we possess a collective consciousness like Jung suggested- a psychic connection, did we really live in ancient Rome where we witnessed Nero massacre our parents, or is it in fact a convoluted series of coincidences? One woman under hypnosis started speaking Hebrew which turned into a long obsession with her past as a migrating Jew, only to later discover that she'd had an Israeli nanny as a young child.

William Butler Yeats believed that all of our lives happen simultaneously and that each life is a different path our destiny could take. I've seen three movies in the Whitsell auditorium, attached to the Portland Art Museum, dealing with reincarnation and coincidence, the most recent involving a lovely pair of designer shoes and a stolen handbag. All three movies favored lingering shots of grass blowing in the wind. Apparently grass and the afterlife are connected somehow.

It's ironic every movie I've seen at the art museum has dealt with death. Not just death in the mother dieing of cancer, violent genocide, stark newspaper article sort of way but mystical, gateway to something new, empty nothingness, tunnel out of the darkness death. I've followed each movie with a trip to the bathroom, a bathroom so white I imagine embracing the light and giving myself over to a blinding peace. The long, angled row of sinks resembles a stark, sparse, zen inspired Japanese studio and the marble countertops, combined with the strong metalic light fixtures in stern, straight lines creates a modern simplicity which might make a chic boutique but gives you the sense that rather than peeing, you should maybe get some work done or buy something. The light attracts flaws in personal appearance making you feel underdressed for the toilet. This toilet says both, "Welcome to the afterlife" and "I don't mean to be rude but isn't your underwear a little garish?"

When I walk out of the bathroom, planning on purchasing some new underwear, I admire the Native American masks and baskets in glass cases in the hallway and struggle to remember my life as a unicorn in the same way that Sam Neill vividly reenacted his past life as a dog while under the influence of rare whisky in Dean Spanley, a film I watched in the Whitsell Auditorium. I find it difficult to remember this particular past life given that I'm not completely sure I believe in unicorns or past lives. So instead I picture a bright light, wild grass blowing in the wind, and forget about unicorns and gaudy undergarments.

Score: Outside of this toilet's connection to the afterlife, it's a fairly standard toilet. The whiteness gives the illusion of extreme cleanliness which comforts the hoverers enough not to pee on the seat. While I can't make a promise of 100%, I can't remember any visit to the art museum that involved puddles of pee. The art museum in general is extremely accessible for the elderly and handicapped and I have never once waited in line for the bathroom, even at the most crowded events.
The long row of sinks adds to the accessibility of the bathroom making it so every patron could finish at the toilet at the same time and find a place to wash their hands- simultaneously! While friends and family wait for the lingering bathroom goer they can occupy themselves admiring the Native American artwork, including some hand woven baskets and bird masks. Children can find entertain running up and down the long ramp and stairs.
A few things bother me about this toilet. Something about it's whiteness and bright lights reminds me of bathrooms at mall food courts. The lights and the reminder of suburban meth addicted teenagers makes me feel pressured to get in and out as soon as possible. This might explain the lack of lines to the bathrooms and might also be a positive aspect of the bathroom.

Grade: C+