Cleaning Is Meditation

Ever since I was little cleaning has been a form of meditation for me. Organizing, putting away, alphabetizing, sweeping, dusting, rearranging, etc…I find the act of cleaning to be relaxing, weirdly enough.

As a kid it was my bedroom. I didn’t have a very big room, but I made the most of what I had. I loved rearranging my bed, desk, and dresser, finding new ways to configure my smallish room to make it feel different, new. When most kids on Friday nights usually had plans to go to the rollerskating rink, The Fun Center(an arcade in town), or the movies with friends or dates, I was at home on Friday. When I was younger it was playing with Star Wars or GI Joe action figures, deciding the fate of the galaxy over pizza and Mountain Dew. As I got a little older it was me in my bedroom listening to whatever heavy metal cassette I got in town that afternoon at Butterfly Records. More than likely brooding over, yes, pizza and Mountain Dew, while listening to W.A.S.P., Megadeth, or Anthrax.

I wasn’t some shut-in. I did go to the movies with friends, or I would stay at a pal’s house. A lot of the times friends would come to my place as my parents were pretty cool and didn’t mind stinky teen boys hanging around. So being home alone on a Friday night cleaning my room or rearranging furniture or posters on my walls was 100% my decision. It was my comfort zone, actually.

Cleaning is still a Friday thing for me. I get home from work and start in on getting the house picked up before the weekend gets rolling. I find myself in a very calm, quieted head space when I clean. Whatever stress and life issues I’m finding particularly draining take a backseat to Swiffer Dusters, Clorox Wipes, brooms, and sweepers. There’s something quite present and satisfying about turning a messy kitchen into something clean and tidy. Reflections gleam from the oven top, counters wiped down with all-natural cleaning spray, floors swept and Swiffer’d, and counter clutter put where it belongs(a lot of the time, the trash.)

Bathrooms cleaned and freshened up, while our bedroom is brightened up as well. Baskets of clean laundry are emptied for the next load, while the dirty stuff is taken to the basement for cleaning. Candles lit because if there’s no scented candles burning then it just doesn’t feel right.

When I clean I get the disc changer going so there’s a constant soundtrack going on. Box sets are the best as they’re a never ending loop of tunes to score my afternoon cleanup. Miles Davis, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot box set, Coltrane, and The Police have been current selections, but the soundtrack varies. I’ve also been listening to audio books while I clean. It’s a nice 2-hour block where I can devour a nice chunk of whatever book I’m currently listening to.

I know cleaning has been a therapeutic thing for my head and heart since I was little, but it wasn’t until the last few years that I realized it’s a major component in my coping mechanism. It’s something I control, and it’s something that’s immediate. It’s instant gratification. You see results immediately. It’s not like working on yourself, where that’s a process that can take weeks, months, years. You get that satisfaction right away. The process, the movement, the scents, the feeling of accomplishment. Then afterwards I reward myself with an ice cold beer and sit down to watch something before I start dinner.

Cleaning lets me put aside the daily stress and worry for a short amount of time and concentrate on things I can fix in the present. I don’t have to wait on others to mull it over, or wait for answers to arrive from God knows where. The problems and answers are there in front of me and I can make those problems go away with the swipe of a duster or the push of the sweeper. The problems outside of the scope of a sweeper or duster are still there, waiting and simmering for me to remember them and get bummed out again.

But for a couple hours on a Friday afternoon my mind is clear of the clutter. Because I swept it up and threw it out. In its place – though short lived – is a clutter-free space where I can sit down, relax, and get ready for the next great crisis. Until then, the candles burn and the jazz plays on while that beer doesn’t get any colder.