Or, How Conscious Parenting and Meditation Just Might Converge in the Laundry Room
I’ve mentioned before, that I am a fledgling practitioner of meditation. I’ve been trying to meditate daily for over a year now.
Some days, my meditation experiences are transcendental. Others, well, not so much.
I wish I could say that I was meditating to access a heightened sense of consciousness, but mostly I just do it to stay sane.
Meditation helps me be present for myself and my children. On a good day, I let go of past regrets and future fears and truly live in the moment.
On a really good day, I relax into a state of joy, where I experience each moment as a gift.
A well of grace.
Mmmmm.
For the past year, one of my favorite routes to relaxation has been my Deepak Chopra CD, The Soul of Healing Meditations.
I give myself over to the words, the music, the healing.
Sometimes, I put the CD on and work through a slow, contemplative yoga practice. Usually, I am simply still.
And I experience the cleansing, transformative power of grace in my life.
Sooo...
Today was not one of those days.
My beautiful, dreamed-of meditation practice was displaced by an urgent need for clean clothes in the house.
The boys were scrounging around in their closet, looking for warm, clean clothing to wear to school. When my older son started diving headfirst into the electric dryer, searching for socks amongst a load of bath towels, I knew immediate action was required.
Still, I was unwilling to give up entirely. If conscious parenting is about being present in the moment, then perhaps we can make every parenting moment sacred. At least, a little bit.
As I sorted out a load of whites, I gave thanks for all the people who helped my family reach this moment.
I gave thanks for the people who left their homes and families each day to grow cotton; to turn raw cotton into thread and thread into socks. I felt gratitude for the men and women, who package, transport and deliver the socks to a place where I can purchase them.
I gave thanks for my healthy children, who are strong enough to run around in sweaty, disgusting sneakers, causing these socks to be absolutely black on the bottoms.
I gave thanks for our beautiful home, and the way it provides so many wondrous hiding places for socks.
And then, as I closed the lid and pushed the magic buttons, I relaxed into a truly transcendental appreciation of my washing machine.
Talk about a miracle of creation.
I offered my most sincere thanks for the incredible craftsmen who designed and built this technical marvel.
Thank you, to the person who designed the extra large tub – clearly they knew my children produced more dirty clothes than a professional football team.
Thank you, too, for eliminating that cumbersome center agitator – without it, my machine can wash a full-size comforter or small rug with aplomb.
And you – the genius who worked out the wonderful economy of water and energy usage – thank you!
Finally, to the brilliant individual who created the beautiful glass lid that allows me to watch, entranced, as our blackened socks turn white again, I can only say, well done.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Perhaps there are paths to consciousness all around us. We’ve only to look, and to commit ourselves to finding them. To being grateful.
Deepak Chopra is still at the top of my list of favorite meditation CD’s, and I am grateful for his gifts to the world.
But he doesn’t do much for my socks.
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