The Zen of Laundry — Meditation with Your Washing Machine
Virtue is built on clean underwear
My washing machine quiets me down.
I can sit in front of my dirty laundry or an eternity.
It’s quietening my soul. It nourishes my nerves.
The predictive roll.
The sensual swirl.
The soothing sounds.
It’s all coming from the core of the action. The swirling centre of 7 kilos of dirty socks, T-shirts and bed linen. The space where all becomes quiet.
The centre of the hurricane. The womb of creation.
It’s my meditation. It cleans my brain of the accumulated dirt, filters it, and thrusts it back into the earth to be transformed.
The soothing experience turns my studio into a natural home. My cat, curiously observing the round-a-bout action, completes the vibe.
I praise the technology of the washer. Its decisive spin guides me into contemplation. It’s rhythm is hypnotizing.
The countdown of minutes brings back certainty in my life. Knowing when things come to an end gives me back control over the whim forces of nature. My silent hero.
