{"id":9926,"date":"2015-02-10T16:27:53","date_gmt":"2015-02-10T21:27:53","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/beginnersheart\/?p=9926"},"modified":"2015-02-10T16:28:45","modified_gmt":"2015-02-10T21:28:45","slug":"engaged-buddhism-and-other-peoples-dirt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/beginnersheart\/2015\/02\/engaged-buddhism-and-other-peoples-dirt.html","title":{"rendered":"engaged Buddhism and other people’s dirt"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"via<\/a>
via wikipedia<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

These are the brooms I grew up with: grasses tied together by hand, swept carefully over wooden floors. I still love them, although I have no idea where you’d find them now. I suspect I’d sweep more often if I still had a broom like this.<\/p>\n

Which is by way of returning to a subject I wrestle with almost hourly — why is it soooo much easier to do something for someone else? Why is cleaning this house — where my son, DIL, and grandson live — than my own? I HATE mopping, but mopped their entryway and kitchen w\/grace (if not joy). Because I love them, and they’re overwhelmed right now.<\/p>\n

Same w\/ the laundry (another thing I let pile up at home), and wiping down bookcases. My own books wear dust jackets — NOT the paper kind. And no, I’m not really kidding; we just took three boxes of books to Goodwill, and I made my husband get them out of the car FAST so the thick grey dust didn’t give him an asthma attack!<\/p>\n

Soooo, what’s the deal? I’m not the kind of person who thinks I don’t have value. My self-concept is fairly healthy, all things considered. It’s not like I don’t believe I deserve a cleaner house.<\/p>\n

\"via<\/a>
via pixabay<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Part of is that whole time thing. Here, my only tasks centre on the ‘kids’ — my adult elder son, my DIL, and my grandson. I let the blog go; I get up when they need me (instead of sleeping until the cat wakes me up by jumping on me); I cook in the evenings; I try in all ways to show how much I love them. Perhaps a better question would be: how does cleaning their house show love?<\/p>\n

And it’s back to time. When you’re overwhelmed — for whatever reason(s) — time collapses & expands like a spastic accordian. Tightly packed when you need more, str-e-t-c-h-ing when you want to be able to get whatever done NOW. Plus, I’m a strong believer in order without, order within<\/i>. If I can give you clean sheets & towels, cook potato corn chowder and cheese biscuits, and straighten the living room? Perhaps you can draw a quiet breath for a moment, before the whirl of chaos that is grief returns.<\/p>\n

At my own house, I know I’ll get to\u00a0things eventually. And face it: normally? Who cares if my floor has been mopped today??<\/p>\n

For my son & DIL, however, I think of it as a form (on a very small, local scale) of engaged Buddhism: you don’t just say <\/i>you’re sorry. You \u00a0put your hands where your words are. To work. Soothing the battered heart. And sometimes, that requires a broom, a mop, and a 3rd trip to Kroger’s to pick up more laundry detergent…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

These are the brooms I grew up with: grasses tied together by hand, swept carefully over wooden floors. I still love them, although I have no idea where you’d find them now. I suspect I’d sweep more often if I still had a broom like this. Which is by way of returning to a subject…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":398,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[166,941],"tags":[11,1181,1187,262,1228,881,807],"class_list":["post-9926","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-engaged-buddhism","category-self-love","tag-beginners-heart","tag-britton-gildersleeve","tag-buddhism","tag-buddhist-blogs","tag-engaged-buddhism","tag-self-concept","tag-self-love"],"yoast_head":"\nengaged Buddhism and other people's dirt - Beginner's Heart<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"These are the brooms I grew up with: grasses tied together by hand, swept carefully over wooden floors. 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