Cleaning up the mess

I’m not a good housekeeper, and that’s an understatement. My mum was a very good housekeeper, she was not a good teacher though. Instead of learning me how to clean she taught me that she will do it for me when she is tired of nagging me to clean up. Our house was always tidy, and there were times when I felt that she polished away the homely feel I was longing for. I did clean my room every now and than and had my own method of doing so. I would pull everything out of my closets, drag everything from under my bed and standing in the middle of the chaos think “right” and start to sort everything out, finding the right place for everything and throw out lots and lots of clutter. It would take me days, days in which I enjoyed myself tremendously. Finding lost treasures, setting up collections and letting go of junk. In the end I would have a neatly organized room, I could find everything, knew with clarity what I had and where it was and felt pretty good about what I had accomplished.

Now, over 35 years, later nothing is changed really, I still muck out in the same way, wishing I could be more timely with cleaning up. I still wait for someone else to nag me to clean up and still hope someone will step in and do the cleaning for me. The last 3 days I have been on a cleaning spree, enjoying the result as I went along and discovering myself along the way. The first day I was complaining in my head about all the others that live here for making this mess, feeling very sorry for myself, complaining about how it always me that does the big mucking out. Feeling very happy about the kitchen counter tops being cleared and cleaned I realized how I like spending time in the kitchen cooking but I hardly get the chance amongst all the chaos I too help make and how I apparently settle for this chaos to life in, don’t I think I deserve better? And If so, why not? What will make me worthy?

The second day it was nooks and crannies day, kitchen cabinets, cellar, behind the washing machine, shelves I can’t reach and boxes left over from moving house over a year ago. It is amazing how much you can stuff in nooks, behind doors and away from eye level. But just because it is out of sight does not mean it is not weighing you down. Bags and bags of stuff I once had plans for, what happened to those plans? Stuff bought but not uses and now past its date of being any use to anybody. I can see the fear in some of the purchase, “better buy it now before it or the money is gone” “better stock up just in case” I know where that fear comes from, money is always tight, but that fear is not helping any. I know better than that and while throwing stuff out I reexamine the fears, and promise myself to be more mindful next time I feel the fear creep up and trust that things will work out one way or the other because they always do up till now.

The never unpacked boxes are now unpacked, most of the content is relocated in to the garbage can and I wonder what ever stopped me in my tracks when I started unpacking? And what ever got into me in the first place when I packed those boxes full of useless stuff?

I can see how I have lived in a state of panic most of the time, running from something and clinging to another. Hoping for a permanent state of balance in a permanent state of flux. Wishing balance to be a solid thing wishing flux to go away. I also see that something has changed dramatically over the last few months and while cleaning yet another day I changed some more.

Day three was polishing and washing with water day, having cleared away the clutter I can see how it leaves its marks in filthy streaks and fur balls. While washing away the stains left on the washing machine I wondered how I could ever expect that an appliance made for cleaning could still do its job properly while being dirty itself. I expect my Dharma teachers to be “clean” and I need to be “clean” if I ever want to slip back into my hero role again.

While sponging off the stains with hot soapy water I heard my moms voice in my head: “Now if you are finished cleaning this, you just need to keep it up.” I used to mope when she said that, my cleaning efforts never seemed good enough. Over the years I learned the hard way that she was of course right, but finding a way to do the upkeep has eluded me.

A few weeks ago I finally came around to make a small zendo for one. I cleaned out my bedroom and found a piece of wood, unpacked a safu I bought years ago in a Tibetan monastery in France. Looked for a Buddha and found a tiny one and placed it next to the smallest statue of the virgin Mary you ever did see. Rolled out a banner of the dragon I once was given and all this rolled into the most colorful coziest zendo. I never envisioned something that eclectic and colorful but it is perfect. I’m doing the “upkeep” ever since, lovingly and effortless.

Then it hit me when I dipped the sponge back in to the hot soapy water, everything is already there. The balance and the solidity, the state of flux and the permanence, the chaos and the order, the effort and the effortless, the upkeep and the letting go. I thought of the lessons all my Dharma teachers gave, it has been there all along, the path has already been laid all I have to commit to is the work, both in the daily practice and the big mucking out.

While I’m writing this, sitting outside with a laptop and a cup of tea my neighbor is cleaning too, she is like my mum, immaculate, every few minutes she pokes her head out the window upstairs and shakes her dust cloth out. The wind in blowing my direction and her dust and dead flies are falling in my tea. I’m not sure how to deal with that yet.