"When we clean up after ourselves, whether it's a spilled jar, a broken chair, a disorganized study, or a death, we can see and reflect upon our own life and perhaps envision a new way that won't be so broken, so violent, so unconscious. By cleaning up our own homes we take responsibility for ourselves and for preserving what we love. But if our attitude is 'my kingdom is not of this world,' then there is a disturbing possibility that we'll finally do away with the world rather than clean it or ourselves. The feminine attitude of getting down on our hands and knees to scour — and at the most primitive level look at what needs cleaning — deserves our attention. For in this gesture of bended knees is some humility, some meditation, some time to recognize the first foundation of our homes.
"It was a simple washing machine and dryer that got me to my knees that day my friend died — in horror, in mourning, in surrender not to death but to survival. It was a homing instinct that grounded me and made me want to stay on. To this day I have a ritual of running the washer and drying while I am in my study at work. There is no more comforting sound to me than the spinning of that washer or dryer. It is the whole world spinning in there, cleansing itself and me.
"As long as the washer and dryer spin, I tell myself, I am safe and those I love may choose to keep living alongside me. For there is laundry to be done and so many chores — chores of the living. There is so much to be remembered under the dust of our old contempt for cleaning up after ourselves, picking up our own socks. There is much to be swept away and shined bright and scrubbed down to its deepest, most illuminating level. Think of all the chores we have yet to do, quietly and on our knees — because home is holy."
