Washing Dishes: Time Travel on the Cheap
For The Over-Thinkers Out There
You have to be alone. Fortunately, being lonely is not a requirement, but sometimes it helps. Being alone decouples the mind from its immediate present, allowing “travel” to occur. In short, I suppose it is the ability to let your own mind simply go “limp” (for lack of a better term). Perversely, being alone sometimes definitely does not help. The final destination may become one of those dank places of the soul best avoided while sober.
Going Away
All of us do this during our entire lives: from time to time become so
engrossed in our own thoughts or emotions – particularly when alone or undistracted
– that the world and our surroundings fall away unnoticed. Effectively, we “go
away” for a while until disturbed or the world calls us back. Based on my own
recollections, it seems to be a given that the nature of these “going away”
sessions changes as we age and advance through the course of our lives. I
clearly recall that it was easy to “go away” when I was still at school – much
to the exasperation of my father in particular. Becoming a young adult and
finding gainful employment dramatically changed both the frequency and nature
of “going away” sessions. Romantic interludes again significantly changed the
situation further. Middle age seems to have its ups and downs, until it levels
off at a point determined by the circumstances and conditions of our lives from
early retirement onwards. And if we are lucky and worked hard all our lives to
make effective provision for old age, then we can afford to “be away” all the
time when we’re old.
The nature of these “going away” sessions are generally daydreams and flights of fantasy when we are young and unburdened with responsibility and the expectations of others. The nature of these “going away” sessions is generally daydreams and flights of fantasy. This changes dramatically once Life comes calling. Then “going away” mostly becomes planning or worry sessions, concerns, interludes of hope, bouts of heartache and a myriad of other mental activities that require us to be absent for a while from the immediate present. Sadly, daydreaming seems to have fallen by the wayside during this period of my life.
As we mature and advance to middle age, a growing component of “going
away” seems to me to be either the mind merrily hammering away at problems varying
from short to long term in nature and ranging from relatively simple to
complex. Or the mind reminisces and remembers the past events of our lives (and
sometimes that of others): opportunities gained and lost, persons that
significantly mattered to us, heartaches, achievements attained and losses
suffered. Daydreaming seems to become a disregarded or suppressed ability as we
mature past middle age. I suppose this is a natural progression for a cynic
such as myself and it saddens me.
As is to be expected, the nature of our grown-up dreams differs profoundly
from the era of our immaturity. For me, daydreaming – or “time travel” as I
labelled the activity for myself (“daydreaming” seems a wee immature at my age)
– is an activity for which I must create the opportunity these days. I've
noticed I cannot engage in it at will as when I was a teenager (or younger).
For an over thinker such as me, the susurration of the world too easily becomes
a distracting, daydream-suppressing roar, amongst other things.
It is important to remember that the travelling mind is a spontaneous
phenomenon. It cannot be forced or guided, unless – I suspect – the traveller
have a particularly good imagination. But, these “travelling” episodes are not
flights of the imagination. It is the skill of allowing the generally ever
present objective Inner Self to stand back and observe the journey of the
unfettered subjective mind. Effectively, the subconscious is placed in the
driving seat via the subjective mind and the traveller observes where it roams.
I suppose it is the knack to concentrate without focus, thereby allowing the
mind to explore all sorts of quaint alleyways and the faint footpaths across
the landscape of the inner self. Be aware that this is a self illuminating
process: it provides small glimpses of the true nature of our innermost selves
and the true colours of our own subconscious. There may be surprises in store
for the objective mind …
Travelling should not be confused with astral travel or journeys, nor is
it a waking dream state, hallucination or vision. It is a much more mundane
process, being a mental relaxation technique that aids in achieving – and maintaining
– mental tranquillity and a clearer comprehension of world we surround ourselves
with. As usual, practice makes perfect. Ironically – for me at least – that
does not necessarily mean I become better at it the more I travel.
The Serenity of Soap Bubbles
For myself, hot and soapy water and a good quantity of dirty dishes are
indispensible prerequisites. You know; the normal stuff that remains after an
excellent meal in good company. The number of dirty dishes, glassware and
utensils is relatively unimportant, but I must have all my usual cleaning
accessories and tools at hand. Distractions such as searching for an accessory mid-process
or a well meaning guest offering to help are to be avoided. You risk
involuntarily staying at home.
Time travel is one of those rare occasions where Mindfulness becomes an
encumbrance. We want the mind to be unfocussed. Let go of structured,
objective thinking. Don’t fret about the task at hand nor be in a hurry. Allow
your mind to ‘slide out of gear’, to simply idle along. Be aware of, and enjoy,
the sensations of your body – both pleasant and unpleasant. Try not to be judgemental,
simply ‘be’ in the moment, calm; contented and aware of moment following
moment. Accept what ‘is’ without emotion and with tranquillity. Pay attention
to all your senses and sensory experiences. Feel the ‘rightness’ of the present
now, moment after moment.
Feel the lightness of the soap foam on the skin on the backs of your
hands. Enjoy the silky, almost sensuous slipperiness of warm and wet porcelain.
Appreciate the comforting familiarity of your favourite dish and drying cloths
snuggling into your hands. Notice the slight zigzag of water droplets – caught
in the corner of your eye – sneaking at random down the stainless steel of your
cutlery, knives and bowls while you inhale the moist, clean aroma of bursting soap
bubbles.
Appreciate the careless uncertainty of what you are going to pick up
next underneath the floating layer of soap foam: the submerged cutlery and
other utensils skittish as you grope and chase them unseen along the bottom of
the washing basin.
Listen to the dull clatter of submerged porcelain and mugs as they jostle for new positions in the hot, clean rinse water after you’ve removed one of their companions to the drying rack. Feel the steam wafting up to gently envelop and soothingly caress your cheeks and face. Enjoy the simple and innocent comfort of your hands in hot water, faintly womb-like in its ability to coddle your being. And finally, admire and embrace in the satisfying gleam and glitter of clean porcelain and stainless steel cutlery draining on your drying rack, absolved and rejuvenated.
Don’t ignore or try to tune out that nagging ache in your lower back,
the tiredness of your ankles or the insistent slow burn between your shoulder
blades. Acknowledge and accept their presence without prejudice or irritation.
It is a primary function of bitter to accentuate sweet. In other words, be acutely
aware of all the physical sensations of your body while busy at your kitchen
sink. And if everything is mostly just right, you’ll be on your way in the
infinitesimal space between two heartbeats.
You will intuitively know when you’re on your way. Without notice or fanfare,
the awareness of your body’s sensations will be replaced with the vistas of
your inner journey. Literally in the space between two heartbeats. Where you’ll
go and what you’ll see will be entirely up to the whim of your own
subconscious.
The accomplished traveller will know well not to interfere on the choice
of direction and destination, instead allowing his or her mind to choose,
surprise and delight, or to disappoint. It depends on the mood and mindset of
the wanderer I suppose. The sudsy, soapy water with its surprising ability to
lull and free the mind is merely a launching pad for the receptive person.
Of course, washing dishes is not the only way to go on a journey. For the dedicated apprentice, sweeping and driving a broom in undisturbed peace and quiet can have the same enchanting ability to set the operator free, allowing him or her the opportunity to travel and breach time. Topping and tailing green beans have the same effect as well for several persons of my acquaintance. Peeling through a pile of potatoes also works well for me, as does the rhythmic scraping of carrots until they are clean and blemish free.
A caveat:
Attempting to influence or channel the direction and course of the
journey can be fatal to the journey itself, in my experience. Intellectual force,
whether direct or subtle, quickly devolves a journey of the mind (or daydream) into
either a planning session or a pointless re-hashing of old conversations.
Imagining how the conversation should rather have gone instead of how it actually
went. Coming up – after the event – with smart, witty and elegant replies to
questions, comments and jabs already made and received during past conversations
unlikely to ever be repeated. Or even more wasteful: imagining conversations
that I shall never have because the other party is a detested and avoided person,
have passed away or I have lost her. How many useful hours have I not wasted on
useless imaginary conversations such as these? This pointless re-hashing is a mortal
threat to the inner peace of any over-thinker.
La Mer, La Mer …
I cannot speak for others, but sometimes no menial, focus numbing labour
is required to travel. The eternal restlessness of the ocean and the unceasing murmurs
of the waves rolling in and up onto the beach has a similar effect on me.
Setting my mind free to wander, remember and – with invariable melancholy –
wonder. Remembering my one true soul mate, the dreams we shared and the plans we made. All that may have been … ,
now lost.
The waves harrying sand up onto the beach threatens to scour off old
scabs and set free unforgiving longings buried with too much effort,
endangering a hard won internal truce and a resigned inner quietude. Is it
emotional cowardice to keep an even keel under familiar stars when sailing over
restless deeps? I don’t think so. It derives from having to reassemble
something from broken pieces that appears whole at a distance. In essence:
existing with brokenness.
And for the sado-masochistically inclined types with a romantic bent
finding themselves stranded on a sweltering, windless inner ocean? Put Leonard
Cohen, Frank Duvall or Johnny Cash on the sound system while washing dishes and
experience a trip straight into hell.
The Brilliant Mantra
Much can be said for the merits of mindless, menial labour. Not only on
the purely physical level, but also on a higher, metaphysical plane. After all,
the motto of the Benedictine Order is Ora
et Labora – pray and work. Although, Saint Benedict’s context was
contemplative prayer and active work, the one regularly following the other
into perpetuity. Apparently the old boy’s pet peeve was that “idleness is the
enemy of the soul.”
For myself? I beg to differ from the venerable, if maybe somewhat narrow
minded, Saint. For the spiritually inclined and aware, mindless labour IS
a form of prayer. Particularly when that labour is selfless and for the benefit
of our fellow man. These menial tasks and duties automatically become an
unconscious, subliminal desire or yearning that streams out unchecked – and
beyond the detection limits of our physical senses – into the immeasurable
vastness and stillness of the universe. A yearning for spiritual enlightenment,
awakening of the consciousness within, emotional balance, inner purity,
patience, wisdom and deepening inner peace. Overall, the bringing about of a greater
personal knowledge of my innermost heart and how it relates to the world around
me – both literal and metaphysical.
Taking this wider perspective, the vast and all-enfolding Buddhist mantra
Om Mani Padme Hum
is maybe a better manifestation for the spiritually inclined of the
higher benefits of menial labour. Particularly those leaning towards inclusive monotheism. Saint Benedict would have bit through his spade handle at the mere
hint of this type of ‘heresy’ (from his perspective), but that is not the point
here.
I believe the repetitive nature of mundane and boring menial tasks is
for the spiritually self-aware a subconscious form of prayer similar to the use
of prayer wheels and prayer flags as used by Tibetan Buddhists. They believe that as
these wind, water and hand powered prayer wheels turn endlessly on their
spindles, their mantras flow out into eternity and the spiritual realm undetected
by human senses, thereby alleviating the spiritual negativity of all those
nearby. And if the mantra carved into the surface of the wheel is Om Mani Padme
Hum, it becomes a locus of spiritual relief, salvation, wisdom and joy, thus bestowing
infinite merit on everyone close by.
Therefore, it behooves you to remember your mantras next time when
washing dishes, sweeping the floor or peeling vegetables.
And finally, on those very rare days when your spirit is at rest and your heart is quiet, the for once generous universe may afford you the great luxury of allowing you to park your mind in neutral and just quietly exist in inner silence while your hands do their thing on autopilot. This too is a great thing to strive for, to just ‘be’ – gratefully enfolded in quietude, undisturbed and serene.
© RS Young, 2022
Image Sources:
1. All non-watermarked
images were found on Pinterest.
2. All watermarked images
are from my personal photography collection.
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