Laundry

Jet streams rise from behind the mountain like the ribs of an opened Chinese fan. Invisible wind diffuses each stream until the streaks separate and make smoke kisses. A giant yellow butterfly dressed in black brocade flutters by me, and, the jasmine, ooh the jasmine, is in full bloom with a strong heady fragrance. 

It’s laundry day. I don’t mind doing the laundry. There is something about it that lets me go into myself and think peacefully and get a bit of psychological rest. I can get away from all the recurring hidden thoughts, wants and naughts of people. You can’t feel these thoughts, but they’re there around you influencing your every move, all the time. It’s like the poor desert cricket that walks across a surface not seeing the undetectable pesticide barrier, absorbing poison, without knowing. Doing mundane chores allows me to shake some of these thought patterns and put them out of reach.

You have to separate your thoughts. Some thoughts are pure in their gentleness, clean in their depths and needy in their softness. Others are base driven, need scouring and even bleaching. But you have to sort through them.

The worst part of thinking is its confusion. In the confines of the mind, multiple thoughts breed on uncontrolled imagination.  In the same context, an overloaded washing machine can result in unclean clothes. Space is needed in order to separate, define and simplify. Think of the ocean, the desert, the mountain. What do they have in common? Space. Peace. Oneness.

There’s nothing like doing laundry.

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