Writing Prompt #5: We Clean Up After Ourselves
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How could I possibly learn to clean up? There was no dust, dirt, or mess. All the things were in their places, yet all I saw were scowling faces. I was the only kid in charge of two adult parents who were following a manual written in invisible ink. What was I to think? My job was to fix the unseen messes – the fact that dad had an ulcer was my fault because I upset mom which made her drink too much. The fact that mom drank too much was my fault because I upset dad which upset his ulcer which upset mom and made her drink. Unfortunately for the planet, the grown-ups I was managing helped design and implement the military industrial complex in the United States. By second grade, I had learned multiple derogatory terms for people who weren’t white, and needed to be killed. By third grade I knew ICBM stood for intercontinental ballistic missile. By 12, thanks to my Grandpa Wes, I knew I was destined to be a different kind of clean up woman. Now at 76, I’m reviewing my merit badge journey and reading a new instruction manual – also written in invisible ink – but this one comes with crystals and a decoding ring. Cleaning up after myself isn’t just about dirt, but perhaps moving the dirt around a bit will lead to new and better acronyms – like ICBM might mean I CAN BE MAGIC.
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Today I cleaned up my desk at work (I joke that you can tell how far we are into the academic year by how high the piles of paper are on my desk — so summer means cleaning time!).
The greatest joy of this job is that I get to use a can of pressurized air to dust the electronics (and, if I’m being honest, to dust literally everything else too).
I hope all of you have the opportunity to dust with a can of pressurized air at some point in your lives. It is a simple pleasure that I relish every time I clean my desk.
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Today I had a book club meet at my house. The weather was so beautiful that we sat outside. The host is in charge of offering delicious snacks, and if possible these reflect the book’s story. So I pulled together quite a bit yesterday and today to serve. After my visitors left, there was quite a mess and I was exhausted. I think because of this principle “We Clean Up After Ourselves” my weary self picked up most of the mess. But I decided I just couldn’t complete the task…not too loose & not to tight…I took the middle way and left a little bit for tomorrow! (My favorite offering…a fruit pizza. Have you had it or made one? It’s a no-fail dessert that many folks enjoy!)
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Tidying my space helps me feel sane.
It can also become an all day project distracting me from my work in the worldFrom my desk chair, where I meditate with OHP, yesterday I made a list of 13 things I could see to attend to. The objects themselves were things like dog toys, jigsaw puzzles, and an empty vase. My relationship to these objects shifted when I approached them with more intention than dealing with or ignoring. I took a moment to ask each object what they might want, and to listen. The puzzles wanted to be put in a box and given away to someone who might enjoy them. The dog toys wanted a basket and a bath before being put there. The vase wanted a flower and a new view.
This morning as I sat in this same, yet changed environment, I felt in conversation with my space in a fresh way. Instead of occupying the room I’m listening to it.
Perhaps this is what it means to be more tidy with myself. -
Yesterday, I stopped procrastinating,swallowed the frog, and fulfilled a print order for a client. I wasn’t moving forward and getting the task done because my printer settings were whacked.What I perceived were endless hours of excruciating pain that would not lead to a resolution – beliefs, negative beliefs, and fears about incompetency and overwhelm. What a mountain of constructed stories that ended up being remarkably untrue. Of course, Printer Trauma is real – so very real in the past – but what a relief and a celebration reaching the summit and cleansing all of that stuck, victimizing state of being.
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I wound up doing 3 small cleanings, as I would be in the middle of one and realize, Ooops I meant to, forgot to, set a time. Okay, after I finish this one I’ll time another… In this way I reorganized some notes about a novel I am writing, restored some kitchen stuff to rightful spots, and removed some troublemaker weeds.
(Still want to try the timed version of this “assignment”. Someday I’ll remember to time it.)
In addition, I contemplated a potential clean-up that will require tasks and time unknown. Gophers have taken over my yard. They rarely entirely kill a plant but they sure leave them thin and scraggly. Do I plant more of what they like least? Shrug? Resume putting plants in pots? (My arthritic thumbs no longer do all that extra potting and watering – can I afford the extra gardener time?) Right now, the scattered mounds of fresh dirt look awful to me. If I were back in my serious gardening days, I might appreciate the gophers aerating the soil. But I’m not, and so far I don’t.
Each time I contemplate the gophers, I feel a bit more settled in the uncertainty of them, and it is a relief to notice that the mounds of dirt are the part that really bother me, even though seeing the newest mound makes me twitch just as sharply as the first one did.
Dunno whether this is an issue of clean-up or perspective.
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