bubbles build under the pressure of the water, rising
The scent of pine floats up from the red bucket
perched, paused, prepped
The mop head is too old, objectively
It works just as well
worn or recently unwrapped, intentionally
Motion is the magic of cleanliness
Yeah, I can untangle my brain with elbow grease
Make a room feel like it can speak
Warm welcome; peace
I work my stress out from the corner
Slow sweeping strokes against the original wood floors
marking out covered ground in the darkened shade
Like I'm painting myself some headspace
I gather my negative considerations like greywater in the bucket
mopping up melancholy and spreading out sanity
I thank the grime that signifies that there's life in this home
I'm it's guardian, and tomorrow my children will replenish it
When I pour the bucket back into the sink that filled it
I embrace the cycle of such things
Where the messes end, the next adventure begins
I think I meant to write this poem for the prompt joy... Then I thought, well it fits well for tranquility, so I'll post it for that one... Don't you know, I missed the deadline for both haha!
Lately I've been trying to focus in on my gratitude for the little things more. Even the not so fun little things... I never really want to mop the floor... but once I do, I feel so much tranquility and joy.
It is nice to have things to take care of. It is a blessing to have clean water on tap. It's beautiful that my life is peaceful enough that I can think of such things as mopping the floor.
Lately I keep telling myself, "The problems I have are a blessing". It helps me to avoid taking myself too seriously, slipping into a negative mood that will only make the day worse.
Not to tmi, but my son has needed an unusual amount of diapers this week. One day, I'd changed him at least 3 times in an hour, and was trying to accomplish something, when I realized I needed to change him again. I felt frustrated for a moment, the stop and go of motherhood can drain me.
Then I thought, "Wow! What great abundance that my son is so healthy and strong that he can produce such an epic amount of dirty diapers!". Sure, I was trolling myself a bit, I find that helpful... I also meant it though. Perspective.
Animals at rest appear so much more tranquil than humans to me, and I think perhaps it is because they have the gift of acceptance. Their instinct guides the progression of life, and when there is a time and a place to rest, they do. They know the world in a way that transcends critical thinking.
Each experience I have every day is what it is, the only control I have is my reaction to it. I'll have to mop the floor either way, I might as well find relaxation in the process mindfully.
I've found a lot of this same feeling in preparing food recently. I'm a skilled cook, but I rarely make the time to have fun with that. Tapping into the part of me that actually enjoys culinary tasks is a form of self-care for me these days.
When I'm happy, you will find me in the kitchen, probably displaying some god-awful dance moves, likely singing in a goofy voice to match. I've learned that I can mimic this thing that naturally happens when I'm mentally thriving, and trick my brain into being positive with it.
As we slide into February, I'm doing my best to thank my tasks as they pop up. To find the brilliance in busywork and the radiance in responsibility.
