After the Ecstasy, the Laundry

We have been strangers in this strange land for 6 months now, experiencing internal and external change that reminds me of a garden blooming in time-lapse photography: breathtaking, lovely, distressingly fast, too little time to process, fantastic.  Bursts of color, waves of wilting, pulsing movement.  So little about the world here is familiar to me that I have taken to thinking of Costco as a refuge, just for its similarity for what I knew in California.  Who knew I would find comfort in cans of olives bundled in packages of six?

And yet, Life Is Just So Daily (thanks, Mary Engelbreit).  Yes, I’ve had to find a new doctor, learn to use the Metro, realize that rain falls in the summer here and that winter rain is sometimes this icy stuff called sleet, figure out where to hang art in such a different house, become familiar with what poison ivy looks like, accept that when the children wake up, everybody wakes up, rejoice when Costco has fruit from Kingsburg, and a thousand other adjustments, large and small.  Even so, the everyday tasks of living remain, including cooking, cleaning, and the laundry.

Within a couple of weeks of arriving last June, I offered to be the household washerwoman, taking on the task of keeping our multigenerational family in clothing that is clean and in good repair.  This was no sacrifice or saintly gesture on my part, because I actually enjoy doing the laundry.  There is something satisfying about taking heaps of rumpled, dirty clothing and transforming it into neat piles of sweet smelling, smoothly folded bundles, ready to go back into drawers and closets.  The feel of the fabric keeps me mindful of the moment, the sorting helps me to order my thoughts, and each piece is an opportunity for meditation on its owner, a prayer for the well being of the people I love the most.

Consider this:

·         We arrived in June just in time for a big storm that handed us 5 days without power.  I am thankful to have access to laundry machines when I need them.

·         Shortly after the storm, Dwight and Aric installed new cabinets in the laundry room, providing space for supplies and a counter for folding.  Opening a door to reach for the fabric softener sends thoughts of gratitude for their effort and expertise.

Sorted laundry, ready to wash

·         Summer heat and humidity means at least two sets of clothing per person per day.  Each limp shirt becomes a prayer for comfort and coolness.

·         Playing in the dirt and at the creek with a toddler means I get pretty dirty, too.  Songs of joy for this opportunity rise with each pocketful of sand.

·         Dwight’s new job brings the task of carefully tending his Trader Joe’s staff clothing.  In this way I can support him and share his enthusiasm for his work.

·         Asaka accomplished the life task of potty training this fall.  That process meant extra laundry for a while and presented more time to celebrate his efforts.

·         The last weeks of Emily’s pregnancy meant fewer and fewer choices of clothing that fit that beautiful bulging belly.  Frequent washings were welcomed as chances to pray for safety and comfort for both mother and child.  The same was true for all the preparation of crib sheets, onesies, blankets, and sleeping gowns.

·         Kiyoko was born!  I get to wash and fold all those tiny, soft doll-like clothes that keep her warm and cuddled up.  Bliss!  Also, the mail has been full of pink fuzzy things for her to wear, and I get to wash those, too, before they are put away.

·         Now the weather is cold, and clothing is heavy – lots of loads of jeans, sweatshirts, footed jammies and jackets.  If only every family was blessed with enough warm clothing – I can’t even imagine complaining about washing something that keeps us snug.
 

So how about that Ecstasy/Laundry thing?  Jack Kornfield has written a book in which he talks about the post-ecstatic experience for the spiritually enlightened person, and helps us to understand that our enlightenment is only real if we can integrate it into our daily lives. I want to add, and I suspect that Mr. Kornfield would agree, that there is a kind of inverse truth here.  The daily-ness of life follows the ecstasy, yet is also a path to enlightenment and the ecstatic experience.  No, I don’t think laundry is ecstasy, but I do think that if I stick with the mindfulness, the prayerfulness and the gratitude that can come with 18 – 20 loads a week, the light inside the dryer could become the light inside my heart.

                                                                  

http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Buddhism/2000/06/After-The-Ecstasy-The-Laundry.aspx