Unnecessary Agitation, and Other Lessons from a Laundry Odyssey

May 12th, 2010 | 1 Comment

This past week included, among everything else that a week brings, a late-night watery floor. It resulted from what I expected to be a typical load of laundry, with too many other loads awaiting their turn. I mopped up the water, put the clothes in the dryer, and resolved to think about that tomorrow. This is my first choice in dealing with any crisis that arises after 10:00 at night. Most of the time it works quite well.

Insight 1:  Sometimes we get messed over by our own procrastination, and it feels lousy.

Lesson 1:  Don’t procrastinate.

Caveat:  This is easier said than done.

It was a busy week, but a couple of evenings later I gathered the strength to face the question of whether it was a hose problem or a washer problem. I ran water into the machine, watched it drain and spin, and there was apparently no problem. Wanting to believe that the prior event was an anomaly, I started another small load and walked away. Which resulted in water on the floor again.

Insight 2:  We know what we know, even if we don’t want to admit it.

Lesson 2:  We can avoid messes if we take responsibility for what we know.

Caveat:  Sometimes it’s hard to know how.

Clearly it was not simply a problem with the hose. With the washing machine several years old, and the high cost of a service call, we chose to replace the machine. I was glad to have that option, and assumed I would find something similar to the old washer, have it delivered, and get on with the laundry.

But the technology of washing machines has moved on, and there were things to learn in order to make a good decision. When I finally understood this, I regretted my thoughtlessness and began trying to learn enough to choose wisely.

Insight 3:  Good decisions require knowledge and attention.

Lesson 3:  Acting responsibly involves making an effort to learn.

Caveat:  There are limits to what we can know; we simply do the best we can.

Now I have a front-loading washing machine, which uses less water, detergent, and power than the old one. I’m still getting used to it. For as long as I’ve been doing laundry, getting clothes clean has meant agitation—energetic churning of fabric through great quantities of water and suds. I had to embrace a new paradigm as I watched the first load of sheets cycle through the wash.

The drum turned, lifting the sheets gently to the right until they dropped, and continued to turn slowly, lifting and dropping. Then the machine stopped and turned in the opposite direction to lift and drop the fabric again. Over and over. It was more like the movement of women beating laundry against river rocks than my familiar modern way of washing clothes. The new machine uses just enough water to wet the fabric, then lifts and drops the laundry until it’s clean. Amazingly, it works—the steady, rhythmic motion of the ancient way is apparently the right idea.

Insight 4:  All the agitation that I thought of as necessary…isn’t.

Lesson 4:  Some assumptions about how things must be done are wrong. Look for a simpler and more sustainable way. There are clues to be found in the past.

Caveat:  I’m grateful not to be washing clothes in the river. New technology can be a good partner to the old ways.

I realize from the whole experience that it’s important to leave room for what genuinely needs attention. Including the need for sleep. But I’m also wondering about other kinds of agitation I’ve assumed was necessary. Maybe I need to rethink some of them.

Is there another way to do things without so much churning?

Comments (1) | Soul Tending Tags: , , ,

Remember the Sabbath?

May 6th, 2010 | 2 Comments

Work and rest serve one another when they’re in the right balance, but finding the perfect equilibrium is an art I have not mastered. The feeling that I’ve done enough and deserve to rest eludes me. The question of what counts as real work, which always shadows a creative effort, makes the issue even more complex.

Yet whatever our work may be, we can’t exhale indefinitely; we have to take a breath. We can’t continue producing without replenishment. But I’d like to have some assurance that I’ve done enough, and that it’s ok to ease up for a while, short of the need to collapse.

The issue of balancing work and rest is ancient. When Moses led the Hebrews out of Egypt, they were a people misshapen by centuries of slavery. They needed guidance as they learned to structure their lives for themselves. The Sabbath was a gift to them, which established a rhythm of work and rest, material effort and spiritual replenishment. It conveyed the divine message that for this week, you have done enough. It was essential to being healthy and whole, living in relationship with God.

We still need that rhythm. But with no one descending from the mountaintop with stone tablets for our culture to insist that we keep it, it’s up to us to create space for the Sabbath in our lives. Doing that requires some preparation. It means valuing the Sabbath enough to plan ahead for it. I love the idea of keeping a Sabbath, but maybe it could be even more than a Sunday afternoon nap.

The challenge is that working ahead to clear a space takes effort. Cleaning up the house, preparing food ahead of time, getting the essential chores and errands out of the way requires a commitment that’s simply easier not to make. Those are things I might make myself do if company is coming, but I’m less inclined to make the effort for myself.

My brother and sister-in-law are avid football fans, and when their team plays at home they prepare for their weekends in just this way. On Thursday evening after a long day of work, they nonetheless clean their house as they look toward the weekend. They plan for how to feed their guests who come in for the game, and prepare many of the meals and snacks ahead of time. By Friday evening the work is done, and they’re ready to kick back and enjoy the weekend. Visiting them during football season is relaxing and fun. They’re able to be generous hosts while genuinely relaxing and enjoying themselves.

It seems to me that’s a pretty good model for observing the Sabbath. A day to rest and be restored, doing what we truly enjoy, is worth claiming. Perhaps in preparing for the Sabbath we can relish the feeling of having earned it, as well.

Knowing this and making it part of my life are two different things. But I’d like to work on having that kind of balance.

What helps you get the right rhythm of work and restoration?

Comments (2) | Soul Tending Tags: , ,

Stretching Gently

April 21st, 2010 | 8 Comments

You probably know how it feels to wake up with a crick in your neck. That happened to me a few mornings ago, a ghost of which remains when I turn my head to the left. I wonder how it’s possible to be in a position that does me harm and yet sleep through it. I could have avoided pain if my body had recognized the strain and awakened me with a complaint. But apparently I was too tired to notice, and remained in a contorted position until the damage was done.

This makes me keenly aware that discomfort helps keep us from harm. Restlessness is a message that we’ve held the same posture for too long. When visited by dissatisfaction and an urge to try something new, we’re goaded into making the changes we need.

These stirrings, even if unwelcome, are the energy of the soul pushing us forward. They are the whispers of God beckoning us toward the life we’re called to live, or at least to a healthier place. But exhaustion can block the message, and fear can convince us to ignore it. They tell us it’s not the right time to make a change, and sometimes they have legitimate reasons.

But we have to sort through the reflexive warnings and determine how we can stretch. And when they’ve outlived their usefulness and we’re fed up with being depleted or afraid, restlessness can overpower even those elemental emotions. The need to grow is as legitimate as the need for shelter and rest.

Though I wasn’t conscious of it, I got myself into the predicament of developing this crick. I have a new appreciation of how the neck operates, how often it’s called into use, how easily and naturally it turns and bends. And now I’m trying to guard its health. I turn my head gently and stretch the neck carefully, even though it hurts. I need to use those muscles, but carefully. Every time I stretch it gets a little easier. I expect that in a few days I’ll be able to enjoy the freedom of movement I took for granted just a few days ago.

Is there something your body is telling you?

Comments (8) | Inspiration in the Everyday Tags: , , , ,

Meeting Beauty Halfway

April 16th, 2010 | 2 Comments

It doesn’t seem hard to find beauty in springtime. The world is woozy with blossom-scented air; flowering branches shower the earth with petals. The breeze carries birdsong and life is abundant again.

But I keep thinking about your thoughtful responses to my previous post. The insights there remind me that it’s a gift to be able to appreciate these things, and that there have been times when the capacity to enjoy them has been beyond me.

I know what it’s like to miss out on spring, worried about something going on, or not going on, in my life, or even how I’ll look in summer clothes. Being blinded by those concerns, large or small, is a kind of imprisonment. Life can be hard, and even harder when the restorative experience of beauty is beyond our reach. The view is oppressive when we can’t see past ourselves.

It’s good to do what we can to be open to beauty, to try to meet it halfway. But when our own efforts aren’t enough to haul us out of a dark place, the possibility remains of being seized by something beautiful. It can break through walls we didn’t realize were there, and reveal something wonderful about this world. Beauty seeks us out, calls to something within us, urging us to open our eyes and see.

When I watch the light recede from the landscape and gather in the sky before dark, nothing seems more important than the changing color on the horizon. I don’t know what allows me to be caught by the scene. Maybe I’ve learned something about getting beyond myself, or maybe the patient presence of beauty through all these years has finally permeated my distracted mind.

At least I understand enough now to be grateful for the light, and also for the ability to notice it. I try to pay attention, but I don’t know whether appreciating a glorious sky is a reward for my efforts or simply the creation shaking me awake. In either case it’s an unearned gift. In either case I’m grateful.

Have you experienced something beautiful lately?

Comments (2) | Creativity Tags: , , , ,

The Real Fight

March 26th, 2010 | 6 Comments

The hate spilling into public spaces and political discourse in this country feels to me like a flash flood these days. I knew that river was there, but as long as it kept within its banks I could approach warily and life continued as usual. But now bridges are washed out and the angry torrents are sweeping through all kinds of communities.

It’s frightening to see.

All that anger, all that fear, directed at some evil “other,” is a horrendous force. When some other person, or institution, or ideology comes to stand for everything we detest, we lose the ability to think rationally about the dynamic we’re engaged in.

Things become artificially simple when we disregard the humanity of the other person. It unleashes the darkness within us. When that happens, we lose our own humanity and evil prevails. Jesus was truly looking after us, speaking out of love and concern, when he said “Love your enemies.”

We all need to be asking: What’s behind all the anger? What are we really afraid of? When someone in the media really pushes my buttons and I feel the swelling tide that wants to drown them out, what exactly is going on?

The true answers are not the huge concepts, not the vague generalities, but the specific and deeper things. Personal ones. What am I personally afraid of? What is the source of the anger that is mine?

If the enemy is painted large enough to be an easy target, we don’t have to be specific about what we’re fighting, or clear about what we stand for. To really know our enemy we have to understand who we are, and face what lies within us. That is the first fight, and the one that’s necessary for peace.

Comments (6) | Finding Courage Tags: , , , , , ,

The Need for Retreat

February 26th, 2010 | 2 Comments

I’ve been working with other members of The KaBooM Writing Collective this week, planning a one-day writing retreat that happens tomorrow. It’s exciting to work with the possibilities that a day can hold, and I look forward to what will happen during those hours.

Retreats of any length are all too rare. A week or month is the classic model, and good to aspire to. But it’s not easy, and often not possible, to check out for so long. Shorter retreats are more accessible, though finding even a single hour out of the day’s course can be a challenge. An entire day is a pretty big deal for most of us, and I appreciate those writers willing to set that time aside.

Claiming any time at all requires attention and commitment. Even the intention to retreat is evidence of a change we’re already making.

Once we do that, a retreat unfolds differently from everyday hours. It’s a time entered hopefully, with openness to surprise; it’s lived out expectantly, but without an agenda. Retreat is a time we prepare for, but without planning what will transpire. It’s a time of asking a question and waiting for the response; allowing something new to happen and paying attention to the movement of the spirit.

We need to enter that mindset often to keep our spiritual and creative life nourished. Prayers and practices in everyday life help. But looking back I see important growth, in both my spiritual and artistic life, from the renewal that comes from retreat. Time taken off from “being productive” ends up generating the most productivity of all.

So I see the day as full of possibilities. We’ll enter our writing through the doorway of the senses, bringing life to words by being centered in the body. We’ll ground ourselves in a particular moment through focus on the physical, sensory experience of being alive. The context of a day of retreat adds another element as well: a chance to connect to the spirit that breathes life into our lives and our work.

The question I’m asking is, What new opening will the day bring?

Comments (2) | Creativity,Soul Tending Tags: , , ,

Divine Inspiration and Everyday Incarnation

February 23rd, 2010 | 2 Comments

These days I’m living in the tension between inspiration and productivity; between drawing water from the well and hauling it home to cook and wash. There are so many things I want to do, but the hours and energy of the day are spent before I can see to them all. I love being in touch with the creative spirit, yet I’m overflowing with plans and ideas that I can hardly carry out. It’s hard to bridge the gap between ideal and actuality, vision and incarnation.

I’m also trying to remember that this challenge is a blessing. I’ve had my share of wandering in the wilderness, wondering where the path was leading. Chances are I’ll experience the wilderness again. But for the time being I have meaningful work to do—an assortment of conversations, projects, and explorations. On the surface they seem unconnected, yet together they impart the sense of gathering energy.

It’s good to feel that generative flow—what we call the Holy Spirit at work. It has been moving all along, bringing me to this place, but now it’s easier to see. Gratefully, I’m trying to pay attention to the work I need to do. And I’m trying to go with the flow.

What if we could always remember that we’re being led to the place we need to be? That we are part of the ongoing work of incarnation?

Comments (2) | Creativity Tags: , , , ,

Learning to See

February 20th, 2010 | 3 Comments

I enjoy taking pictures. It’s a pleasure to look at the world with an eye toward framing a photograph, and in that state of mind I tend to see more. Someday I might take a class or invest in a better camera, but in the meantime I just snap photos of what looks interesting.

So during a recent stay in an eighth floor hotel room I was glad for its view of the city, especially at nightfall. But when I pulled back the curtain with camera in hand, I found the scene obscured by water droplets and condensation. No good. With the window sealed so that it couldn’t be wiped clean, I would have to find another vantage point.

As I gathered my things for a trek down the hall, it seemed a lot of trouble to traipse around in search of a clearer window. But the light at evening had drawn me to look outside, the color and pattern of towers and skies held my attention, and I couldn’t resist trying to capture the image.

In looking for a better view, however, I was rejecting what I had already found beautiful. Photography helps me notice what’s in front of me, but it’s still easy to miss things. In this case I had only seen the foggy window as an obstacle and not part of the scene. I want to open my eyes and pay attention to the world I’m walking through. But that’s hard to accomplish with preconceived ideas about what’s worth looking at.

So I returned to the window and observed how the water on the glass reshaped the light from outside. I considered how the pane of moisture softened my perspective on the city. And I realized that for one evening, in that particular place, I didn’t have to resist the uniquely filtered view.

Is there something in front of you that you might cease resisting?

Comments (3) | Inspiration in the Everyday,Paying Attention Tags: , , ,
Newer Entries »