Dishes

Sweet and sticky maple syrup, dried eggs, hardened oatmeal. They cling to the plates trying to prevent the eventual suction into the drain of the unknown. Pipes connecting to more pipes under the city. This is where unwanted foodstuffs mingle and coexist. The remnants of when yesterday's coffee rolled down the side of the red made-in-China mug remind me of that Muddy Waters morning. I felt good. Muddy had my mojo working.

It's time to wash the dishes again. This is my favorite household chore, more accurately, the only one I actually enjoy. My dish washing provides me a refuge from my thoughts, a sort of immersive sensory meditation. This is not one of those tasks that one can do while doing something else. You must be totally dedicated to washing the dishes. My mind and thoughts are nowhere else but on the task at hand. This is a time for washing dishes. Nothing else.

I see the dirty dishes. Scents of citrus waft up from the sink full of warm soapy water. The warm water soothes my hands, the bubbles formed out of the dish soap tickle slightly. I'm reminded of how these remnants of meals past tasted. The gentle sound of plates and silverware clinking as they swim the ocean of bubbles is soothing, calming.

As my hands fish for the dirty dishes and then clean them for future use so too does my immersive meditation cleanse my mind of all thoughts, allowing myself to be completely in the moments as they occur. My mind rests for future use. And for future dish washing. The task is simple and thus allows me to lose myself in it. I am washing the dishes, I am the water, I am the dishes, I am mind, I am clean, I am new and ready for subsequent moments. As I cleanse the dishes, so too do they cleanse me.