For Lent I have committed to 40 days of cleaning. I began with scrubbing the floors.
There is a long tradition among spiritual communities of getting on one's hands and knees and scrubbing the floor. I admit that I have not imagined this to be edifying.
Nothing remarkable occurred on Day 1 except that the floor at the top of the landing looks spectacular and I'm quite proud of it.
My task was made the more difficult as I must use my left hand to scrub in order to protect the right shoulder as it recovers from a mild injury. No right handed scrubbing. This was difficult. My left hand is much weaker and much less coordinated. Do I get extra points for difficulty I wonder.
As I was scrubbing away I became disturbed by how dirty the water was. By the time I finished I could not see the sponge as it sank below the top of the water. That was gross.
I note that the experience was not much different then my meditations at times. Thoughts floated up and were woven into the scrubbing. I thought about my day, things done and left undone. Things done well; things lacking. Many things lacking. A few things done well. I recalled my two Ash Wednesday sermons; things left in, things left out; things forgotten, things received from a much higher place. There I like to preserve myself in that moment of receiving and giving forth. Tuned in, tapped in, turned on, as someone I know describes it. I savored the satisfaction and goodness of that sublime grace with certain gratitude upon my knees. Scrub, scrub.
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