How I learned to love laundry

Like it or leave it (for someone else)
For years I begrudged doing the laundry, carrying the basket, sorting, you name it
– doing laundry sucked.
It’s still not as enjoyable as reading or snacking but, I have gotten around to the idea that it might be a chance to dis engage from my sometimes-crazy urban life.
Jack Kornfield wrote a book (way more than 1) but ,this one is titled;
First the Ecstasy and Then the Laundry
Light bulb moment – A person can try and try to be in the zone, not let anything bother them, not check social media – be serene (and patting themselves on the back about the achievement maybe)

Real life happens and you get pissed off, tired out, resentful. There goes all of the efforts you put into not being attached.
Vicious cycle or just life.
Like a lot of people , I try to work on myself, be positive, let that person who is humphing and hawing in the line go in front and then real life – someone put the rainbow socks in with the white dress shirts.
Could I really accept laundry as a meditation practise? Cheaper than a yoga studio, laundry as a teaching moment hmmm set steps by rote when I am not thinking anything else
Sort the clothes
Put in the detergent
Load the washer
Take from washer to dryer
Turn on the dryer
Unload clothes
Put away
Sorta dull, very straight forward, certainly not exciting but, this makes the laundry something  out of the realm of the emotions I had attached to it – maybe

RESENTFUL of laundry …anyone???

Gather ye laundry into Zen practice and out of pissing me off because it’s wrecking my calm state

When you are eating just eat
When doing laundry just do laundry
When you are done meditating, getting your s#$t together, do laundry like everyone else
Still one more load to do today, can we talk about how towels take forever?….


Nothing Against Oprah

Okay let me re-type that

Nothing against Oprah and here we’ll put in….but….

I used to have a thing against Oprah’s book club.  Too main stream? Inherent seal of approval? Wal Mart ish?  The cult of Oprah? (no offense)

Never having received a gold star in school from my teachers so maybe I am holding against Oprah. There might not be a clear answer but, when I see the Oprah sticker on a book or Heather’s pick if you are in Canada, back it goes , back to the shelf , not for me.

I don’t even pick these when I got to a thrift store , talk about me being a book snob.

I did read a Million Little Pieces which lead to My Friend Leonard which lead to Bright Shiny Morning but, I  would like to think I found James Frey before Oprah and before the        hoo haa about what is real and what is not.

Have you read John D’Agata’ s About a Mountain ?  Great read.  I am 99.9% sure Mr D’Agata hasn’t been an Oprah pick.

If James Joyce’s A portrait of the Artist as a Young Man was to be a book club choice I wouldn’t read it which would be a shame.  I did read it and one that might be under the radar;   The Feminists Go Swimming by Michael Collins (the only relationship here is they are both Irish)  And this is not the Michael Collins of the IRA.

That might be the anti-magnetism to Oprah.  The thrill of finding a gem that not everyone has read and that I can share with friends.

Okay, it looks like I am a smug book pirate.  I bet there are more people like me.


Ricochet Reading

I find with my reading one book leads to another and then another.

Hence book piles, book walls, books falling around my house

Even this week I re-read Harold and Maude by Colin Higgins which lead me to Patty Dann which lead me to her book; The Butterfly Hours which lead me to re-read Anne Lammott’s Bird by Bird.

And on it goes like 6 degrees of separation.

Here is another trail;

Be Here Now by Ram Dass lead to Japanese Pilgrimage by Oliver Statler which lead to The Man Who Planted Trees by Jean Giono.

One more thread and then you might as well spin me around and play pin the tail on the bookworm.

What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami led to Born to Run by Christopher Mc Dougall which led to Eiger Dreams by Jon Krakauer which lead to Blind Descent by James Tabor.

Did I mention that I am a reading sponge and I married a non-reader?  Reinforcing the floorboards might be a required activity soon and, foisting must read books on my friends.

This leads to what happens when you try to set your friend up with your favourite book and they A) aren’t interested B) read it but give it a so so rating C) DON’T KNOW WHERE THEY LEFT IT

Argggh but that is for another day.

Throw axes – be a Disney Princess

We can experience all the things that we  want to experience no matter how different they are from each other.

Axe throwing is a hot hot sport right now and I think, in a growth spurt still.
The Disney Princess has been a female icon for years and one that women of all ages either fight against or embrace the sparkle. There is no sacred ground.
This lead to my Ah ha moment
There is the connection. No middle ground. Be all that you want to be. Do all that you want to do.
Throw the axe – it’s gone from your hand – CRACK into a target.
Channel the Disney Princess – all is well with the world; the woes of regular life have gone POOF like the pumpkin when the clock strikes midnight.
Guess what? In both scenarios, there is control.
It’s not surprising really that in both scenarios there is thoughtful action. Throw the axe, hit the target. The target could be envisioned as; boss, spouse, ex-friend, highway driver in the next lane.
Throw the axe – get peace

Get your sparkle on – slay the dragon, save the universe – achieve peace
Strangely, can you see where I am going?
These things match up.

Unicorn Frappuccino and Hipster Blundstones, on we go.

Embrace the strangeness of it.

I married a Non-Reader

How did it happen? Short answer, I have no idea. Only the cosmos can explain.

A confirmed book o manic (not a real word but my only excuse is no thesaurus or dictionary is handy) chose to fall in love with a person who has no interest in books.

The love of my life has NO INTEREST IN BOOKS. That statement required the caps.

My husband is a non-reader because he chooses not to read;
He is Not on social media (sacrilege), does not read magazines, not newspapers and absolutely no books
Strangely he doesn’t live in a yurt or wear undyed hemp clothes but, I digress.

He does read the TV channel menu, every line of the manual for the vacuum cleaner, car manuals.
Reading is the art of discovery, so the above may apply but for this essay let’s say NOT.

I am essentially a reading island almost like the cone of silence on the tv show Get Smart.
The challenge is that as an avid reader there are times I am determined to share what I have read.
Sadly, my partner in life discourages my reading to him snippets that I love Not even catchy titles catch his attention. Discouragement in the form of sighs, questions about dinner plans, turning the TV up a tad louder.

It must be hard for him to be married to a certified book geek.
When I re-shelve books, or bemoan the fraying covers of favourites I could be at the Grand Canyon on a donkey far from home. The echo of my voice deafening.

Any bookish comment by me – no response your honour

Lack of encouragement hasn’t stopped me from surrounding my non-reader with books. The book island lives.

As an island; There are piles behind my living room chair on the stool (no room for tired tootsies) Multiple bookshelves; in the basement 4 , in one bedroom and 2 in the other bedroom

It may seem like too much and I am sure it does to my beloved but, books must be saved, read, shared. The Buddhists might have something to say about my attachment.

Hard cover, soft cover, no cover, books are the next loves of my life after my family and a good red wine

This leads us back again to the question; how did I marry a non-reader?

Simple, I forgot to ask.