Laundry Zen

(I didn't have a picture of laundry, so here's one of my newly cleaned office.)

I want to be a nurturing mother that builds security and safety and comfort into our home. A wall of stability that nevertheless helps others see the excitement and passion and interest and poetry in the everyday lives we lead.

I want to facilitate, for my children, a curiosity about life, an excitement to wake up and see what the day holds and to move from task to task and find the joy in doing them.


I hate folding and putting away laundry. The washing and drying isn't hard, but moving beyond that seems too arduous to contemplate. and so I accumulate mountains of clean clothes on the couch and love seat and in baskets at the foot of my bed, creating a tower of disappointment so high I can't see the alarm clock when I'm under the covers.

But, when I hang the laundry outside on the line, the act of doing this slow -- some would say primitive -- action fills me with a sense of slowed-down peace. I'm in the sunshine and delicious breezes float my clothes to a different place, one they were meant to experience -- like chickens that roam free, as opposed to being stuffed in teeny battery cages.

And the strangest thing happens. When I take them off the line, I fold them and put them away without thinking. And I enjoy it all -- even with a task I usually abhore.


This is what I want to bring to the world -- to my children (who are my whole world right now.) That we can find joy and even magic in the ordinary and mundane. That we are responsible for the quality of our own lives and we can decide to enjoy doing the dishes and picking up dog poop from the backyard. And if we succeed -- well. That is the coolest thing in the world.