Friday, December 30, 2011

Washing machine meditation

There are people who meditate by sitting quietly in a place of comfort, becoming one within themselves, tuning out the world while using the sounds to calm and comfort.
I'm not good at meditation. I never have been. My mind doesn't like quiet and it most certainly is not calm. The only way to describe how my mind (feels) works like having a steam engine running down a hallway of doors. All the doors fly open, the engine roars, there is a great wind, momentary chaos, and then complete silence. Followed by a sense of  "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT??!!!" This isn't how it always is, but this mental scenario happens almost hourly.  So, if there are times you are reading my blog and it suddenly makes no sense or the randomness is very sudden. That is why, the engine just roared in my hall of thoughts.
Having said this though, I do have a quiet place that I go and have moments of empty zoning out.
It's in my basement. My drippy, dank, dim, and sometimes smelly, basement. That is because, that is where the washing machine is. It isn't a very impressive washing machine. It's one of those one that just washes clothes, you might know the kind. You put the clothes in dirty, they come out clean. Right? Right.
It's a top loader, so there is no little window to stare through. Yet I do stare at my laundry, constantly. I would probably stay there for the entire cycle if my children weren't trying to kill each other in some way upstairs.  But, I do stare at it for a while.
I've always done this, even when I lived at home. There is something so peacefully about watching clothes swirl, swish, and suddenly get sucked down by the agitator. Then magically, they reappear again at the top again, waving as if to say "Hey, I made it!"  I've often wondered about why I find this so appealing. Why? Why the washing machine? As a kid, I loved water. I still do. I love how things look in the water, how water makes you feel so free and weightless. I love pictures of people and things floating in water.
My mom has told me, that she would let me play with the sink water. She would give me two cups, fill the dishpan halfway with water and then let me stand there. She also used to let me play in the tub when it wasn't bath time. She is firm in the fact that it helped me mentally through whatever I was dealing with as a kid, in my little world.
That's probably why, even today as an adult, I still turn to water for my quiet place. A place where things are free and suddenly time has no meaning.  That's why when we're at the beach, the day flies. Not because we're having fun, but because time no longer matters. The waves wash it all  away.
Having said this, I may have to buy one of those personal islands that are going up for sale due to the recession.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this relationship with their washing machine. I don't mind if anyone thinks I'm a loony.  It's cheaper than going for a drive to clear you head and the laundry has to be done anyway.

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