Nudity vs. nudism

The other day a Facebook friend posted that she liked to hang out in her jammies, since she works at home. As I read her comment, I realized that I was sitting here in the nude because I was too lazy to get up and take a shower. But then I confessed to myself that I actually like sitting here in the nude. That day it was nice and warm, I live alone, and it’s kind of freeing not to have any clothes on.

Wow, I thought, maybe I’m a perfect candidate for a nudist colony! But as I thought about that, I realized that I’d be a total flop as a nudist. First of all, I’ve always been extremely self-conscious about being seen by others when I’m naked. And second of all, I feel that my clothes are more than something to keep me warm or make me look nice—they’re a protection.

Thinking about that reminded me of a time many years ago, when I was still a kid, and my mother suddenly decided she’d like to try doing her housework in the nude. We lived way out in the country, so there wasn’t any chance of anyone spying on her through a window, and it was a hot summer day. So she took off her clothes and grabbed the vacuum cleaner. I wasn’t paying much attention, because I was out in the yard playing, but when I came back in later on, she had her clothes back on. “What happened, Ma?” “Well,” she said, “I thought it would be fun, but I just felt too exposed—really kind of vulnerable.” I had pictures of her ramming her fanny into the wall or snapping her boobs with the vacuum cleaner cord. “I don’t think I’ll try that again,” she said.

In the sixties I ran into quite a few people who loved running around naked. We were all hippies, of course, and a bunch of us took off for Mexico, where my friends continued to stay in the raw as much as possible. But it just wasn’t for me. I went to a picnic with them once and tried to get with it by stripping to my skin, but I felt so uncomfortable I finally had to put my clothes back on. Then there was the day I went to visit my friend Dennis, and he opened the door buck naked. I gulped. He laughed. OK, I thought, this just isn’t my thing.

Nevertheless, I do like to hang out in my own private apartment with nothing on sometimes (when it’s hot). But you can bet if the doorbell rings I’ll be scrambling for my T-shirt and shorts before I answer it. Although I have to chuckle when I think what the reaction would be if I flung the door open in the altogether with a big smile and said, “Hi!”

Clothes – my nemesis

Let’s just say I’ve never been a clothes horse.

I was thinking about this today when my friend Steve Graham posted on Facebook a very funny description of his fruitless search for an acceptable new pair of pants—oh, how I sympathize! It was hard enough finding decent, comfortable clothes when I lived in the USA, but here in Brazil it’s well-nigh impossible.

The women’s clothes here are either riddled with spandex (hate, hate) or covered with studs, embroidery, appliqués or a ton of other doodads (despise, despise). The women’s pants (including shorts and pjs) have waists that start just above the pubic bone (so uncomfortable) and are usually very form-fitting (aka pinchy tight).

tomara-que-caia

Even T-shirts aren’t exempt from decorations, printed mottoes in bad English, and necks so wide that one of your shoulders is always hanging out whether you want it to or not.

And then there are the underpants. I don’t even want to go there. I still order mine from the USA, I confess. The G-strings are bad enough, but even the so-called “regular panties” have no room for a normal butt, and are always getting stuck you-know-where.

My first act of revolt was to start buying clothes in the men’s and boy’s department. I actually did find a couple of decent pairs of pants (I don’t wear jeans—too stiff and hot) and some plain T-shirts. So now my wardrobe plays out like this:

Winter: slacks, long-sleeved T-shirts

Summer: men’s boxer shorts, short-sleeved T-shirts or tank tops

But I still long for a simple pair of cotton pants with a draw string or an elastic waist. I’ve been searching for them among the websites for medical scrubs, but most of them are at least 50% polyester. Sigh.

On the up side, though, Brazilians do have some funny names for clothes. Strapless tops or dresses are called “tomara que caia,” which means “I hope it falls down,” and men’s boxer shorts are “samba-canção”— an old-style of music, meaning that only geezers wear them.

samba canção

Funny thing is that I really enjoy looking at high-fashion clothes at the runway shows in São Paulo and Rio—but to me those aren’t actually clothes, they’re art. That’s different.

For my day-to-day wear, I want something super comfortable that’s almost like wearing nothing. Or maybe I should just wear nothing (when I’m inside, of course). Or maybe not. I remember one time my mother decided that she would do all her housework in the nude in the summertime. That lasted for exactly one day. She said it made her feel “too vulnerable.” So much for nudism. I’ll just suck it up and stick with my boxer shorts, plain pants and T-shirts.

Never give up – ever

By now, practically everyone knows who “Arthur Never Give Up” is. For those who don’t, Arthur Boorman is the disabled Gulf War veteran who suffered knee and back injuries and was told by his doctors that he would never again be able to walk on his own. The video about his amazing recovery has gone viral on YouTube with 7,606,340 hits as of today.

So what really happened to Arthur? After the doctor’s predictions, he became depressed and gave up. He took the experts at their word and accepted the fact that he would never walk again without support. So Arthur, at age 47, became a couch potato and kept gaining weight until he had packed 297 pounds onto his 5’8” frame.

I’m just guessing at how he must have felt—maybe a combination of desperation and apathy. Maybe because of the doctors’ predictions it never crossed his mind that anything could help him. Maybe he just felt resigned.

But then something happened. Something shifted in his thought and he “stumbled” on an article about Diamond Dallas Page, a retired professional wrestler who invented his own Yoga hybrid system—DDP Yoga. Arthur started watching videos and trying to do DDP, falling down and getting up countless times. He also sent Dallas an email telling him his story.

If you’ve seen the video (posted below), you know what happened. Arthur recovered completely. He lost over 100 pounds and now can not only walk, but run. So what happened?

It seems to me that the spark of life that’s in all of us just wouldn’t be silenced. Arthur’s intuition told him that his life was worth something, that he was worth something. It wasn’t just that he suddenly decided to do Yoga. Before he even got to that point, he must have sensed the importance, the sacredness of his own life, even if he wasn’t fully aware of it.

And he didn’t give up after a few attempts. He doggedly kept at it until he saw success. He developed his natural God-given strength through persistence, obedience and patience. What an example! In this day and age of instant gratification and premature quitting, this is exactly what a lot of us need to see and embrace.

Can’t each one of us at least try to do as Arthur did, no matter what the challenge? Before you say “Impossible!” consider that every life is valuable, and that means yours and mine. And that mental attitude is the most important thing, not what your body might be saying (or screaming). I know that his story has had an impact on my own life—he’s a great inspiration to me. Happily, Arthur’s story is now being made into a documentary, Inspired: The Movie, that also includes stories of other people who overcame seemingly overwhelming obstacles. I’m sure it will encourage people who are confronting daunting situations. Thanks, Arthur!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qX9FSZJu448

Thoughts on Connecticut

Today I’d like to share an article by my friend Gordon Myers. He said it better than I could have:

The news is inundated with reports about the recent school shooting in Connecticut, where it appears a young man with mental health challenges killed many innocent children, some school faculty, and himself. The president gave a speech yesterday, and had to pause in the middle of it because he started to tear up. I thought his remarks were helpful, encouraging, and I particularly loved that he closed by quoting Scripture.

Simply, there is no answer to the question, “Why?”, and so I will not attempt to talk about the “why” behind this. But I would like to write today about what we can do. These sorts of situations leave people feeling helpless, powerless, and afraid. I do not believe that more fear is the antidote needed in our lives. So rather than echoing the fears that are justifiably being echoed across the country, I want to share a few ideas that I find helpful, beginning with an incident where a “school shooting” in New Hampshire was successfully averted.

I am a member of the First Church of Christ, Scientist. I believe in one God, and Jesus as the promised Messiah. My church was founded in the late 1800s by a woman, Mary Baker Eddy, who herself was a devout follower of Christ Jesus. The following is an excerpt from a biography titled The Life of Mary Baker Eddy by Sibyl Wilbur, first published in 1907, and describes an incident when she was little more than 20 years old, the same age as the man responsible for the tragedy yesterday.

While Mary was attending the academy an incident occurred which was long related by old residents of Tilton [New Hampshire]. A lunatic, escaped from the asylum at Concord, invaded the school yard, brandishing a club and terrifying the students who ran shrieking into the house. Mary Baker advanced toward him, and the pupils, peering through the windows, saw him wield the club above her head. Their blood tingled with horror for they expected her to be struck down before their eyes. Not so. She walked straight up to the man and took his disengaged hand. At her request he walked with her to the gate and so, docilely, away. On the following Sunday he reappeared and quietly entered the church. He walked to the Baker pew and stood beside Mary during the hymn singing. Afterwards he allowed himself to be taken in charge without resistance.

This story, from the 1840s, had a very different ending than the one we read about yesterday. They both involved young men with mental health challenges carrying weapons into a school full of many young children. But this story from the 1840s ended with the man voluntarily turning himself before any harm was done. I think everyone can agree that that is the best resolution to these kinds of stories. The reason I believe that story had such a powerful turnaround to it was not because of any special person involved, but because of the power of God’s love, and a fearless obedience to the teachings of Christ Jesus. More on that in a moment. Next, I also want to share a short, one-minute video clip. This scene took place in a courtroom in 2003.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=EIkywrKVWAo

This scene shows part of the trial of Gary Ridgway, known as the “Green River Killer,” a serial killer who confessed to killing 71 young women over the course of two decades. This clip shows Mr. Rule, the father of one of the young victims, speaking to Mr. Ridgway with, remarkably, nothing but unconditional forgiveness, despite the fact that the man he is forgiving murdered his own daughter. The full video goes onto say that, while Mr. Ridgway had seemed emotionless and unaffected by everything else that happened in the trial, especially by the rightful condemnation of the victims’ families, he was clearly and visibly affected by this man’s miraculous sense of forgiveness. Indeed, shortly after hearing these words of forgiveness, Mr. Ridgway - for the first time - confessed to the murders, tearfully. The thing that most struck me in Mr. Rule’s comments was when he said “what God says to do is to forgive.” Again, here is another instance of a transformation made possible by fearless obedience to Christ’s commands. Lastly, I am also reminded of a famous quotation from the Reverend Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., where he said this:

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”

There are many discussions that are taking place and will continue to take place about the recent school shooting – about how to prevent this kind of thing in the future. People will talk about gun control laws, metal detectors in schools, mental health warning signs, and so on. Whatever solutions we come to, I think the most important question, a question that searches deeper than any metal detector ever could, is what motivates our actions? Are we motivated by fear? By a desire to live in a bubble? Or by ostracizing all those who seem scary? Or rather, can we be motivated by the same kind of unconditional love that we see in these examples? These examples prove the power of that kind of fearless love.

I do not believe that the dark shadows of fear, hatred, and ostracization can do very much to calm or comfort people – least of all those already “at risk” with mental health challenges. But the unconditional, agape love that Christ taught and demonstrated does transform lives and characters. That kind of love motivates people to stop short of committing heinous acts in the first place, and motivates people to take responsibility for their own actions. This is the kind of brotherly love that forgives in the face of the worst hardship and pain, the kind of sisterly love that offers to hold someone’s hand and makes a stand for the best in them even when they seem most scary or out of place. This is the kind of Love that recognizes the unity of all mankind, as Malachi puts it: “Have we not all one father? hath not one God created us?” Jesus himself is perhaps the greatest example of this kind of Love and forgiveness, as he was someone wholly innocent who did not hesitate to forgive those attacking him right in the midst of the pain. That forgiveness transformed the world.

As for the innocent children lost, I refuse to believe that God has, even for an instant, stopped cherishing them, nurturing them, protecting them, and holding them dear, as the “apple of His eye, under the shadow of His wings.” I believe that the light of those dear children’s lives continues to shine brightly in the Kingdom, and that nothing can ever extinguish that light. As St. Paul puts it, “I have become absolutely convinced that neither death nor life, neither messenger of Heaven nor monarch of earth, neither what happens today nor what may happen tomorrow, neither a power from on high nor a power from below, nor anything else in God’s whole world has any power to separate us from the love of God.” That beautiful and innocent light may have been obscured from view for most of us yesterday, but as Jesus promised that “the kingdom of God is within you,” I know that those children live on, eternally, within all of our hearts, and within the mind of almighty God, where they are forever kept safe, joyful, and free.

http://gordon-myers.com/

Is it really the “end” this time?

There’s a lot of buzz around about December 21. The end of the Mayan calendar. The end of the world, some say.

Of course there have been lots and lots of other predictions of the so-called “end of the world” and I’ve laughed them off, as most of us have. But this one seems to have a different tone, if I can put it that way. Instead of people talking about the earth burning up or being destroyed (although some are doing that), there’s more and more talk about that date being a time of transition—a transition into a higher consciousness, which will consequently create a better world. Could this be true?

I’ve been around long enough to have seen radical changes in the world. I grew up in the USA in the 1940s and 50s, and there’s no question that those years were very different from the 60s. Then the 70s, 80s and 90s brought further change, some of it drastic, some more subtle. But now that we’re in the 21^st century, a lot of us have noticed that things seem to be moving much faster than they did in earlier decades. The speed in technological development alone is pretty mind-blowing.

Also, when I was a kid I don’t remember anyone (although I’m sure there were some isolated cases) worrying about where the trash would go when we ran out of places to put it. There was never a thought about avoiding eating animals, for the most part. People just didn’t concern themselves with these things. Life was limited to their own little milieu—their family, their jobs. People would read the newspapers, but there was very limited awareness that we were all part of a global family. We had our own little lives, and that was it. There was hardly any “consciousness raising” going on.

Nowadays there seems to be a mad dash toward things spiritual—people aren’t satisfied any more with “I was born, I lived, I died.” In rapidly increasing numbers, they want to understand why they are here, what is this life all about…what’s the point? The internet is overrun with “spiritual coaches” seeking to help people gain some sense of who they are in the overall scheme of things. Many people are opting to be “spiritual” rather than “religious.”

What’s going on?

Well, first of all, loads of folks are finally discovering that materialism doesn’t satisfy. It did for a while, but now it doesn’t. They’re also finding out that believing that all there is to us is a physical body moving among other physical bodies—some who are seemingly very close to us, such as family—isn’t enough. People betray us, leave us, or they die. Sooner or later such things will happen to us, even though we may have lived for years having been spared, for the most part, from such events.

When our lives no longer satisfy, when we find ourselves in an upheaval that we can’t resolve—whether with our work, our relationships, our health or a combination of things—then it’s time to become aware that we are being coaxed out of what we thought was all there was to us, and to start looking at the broader picture. What we really want is to find something real, something we can depend on, something that will make and keep us happy and harmonious.

So what about December 21? Some, who have observed the speeding up of our consciousness here on earth over many years are saying that that date is a turning point when things will speed up more, even dramatically. Maybe this explains why people are so madly searching for the truth. What do you think?

Do you really need this kind of “help?”

Have you ever gone through a period of indecision or uncertainty in your life where some person—perhaps a close friend, a family member, or even a teacher or mentor—has given you strong support, offered suggestions, and tried to help you in every way?

And then after some time, have you begun to feel uneasy about this person, and perhaps wanted to step back a bit from their interest in helping you in your situation, despite their seemingly good intentions? Has their help gradually started to feel somewhat oppressive? But then have you stopped and thought, no, this person is really helping me, and I don’t want to be ungrateful?

Then, after a while, you start to feel certain that something just isn’t right. You can’t explain it, but somewhere deep inside you know that that you’ve been allowing yourself to be unduly influenced, and instead of feeling strengthened by this person’s support, you feel weakened by it.

This kind of thing is much more common that most of us imagine. There are many reasons for it. Sometimes the “helper” is consciously or unconsciously envious of us. Or they may see some quality in us that they think we have in common with them, so they encourage us to develop that quality, even though we feel that we’d rather move in another direction.

This kind of intrusive help can hold us back and even do us a lot of damage if we don’t pick up on it and put a stop to it. One time, many years ago, a woman who was older than I was took an interest in me and befriended me. I was flattered because she seemed so experienced in life and so sure of herself. As time went by, without my realizing it, she started controlling me little by little—telling me how I should dress, how I should wear my makeup, what I should say and not say. Looking back at it now, it’s amazing to me that I didn’t pick up on it immediately, but I was young and impressionable, and I wasn’t aware of what was happening until one day I suddenly felt as if I were being smothered or choked. I cut her off, rather abruptly as I recall, and of course she was angry and devastated. But I was free, and that’s what mattered to me.

The truth is, we never need personal help with our uncertainties and indecision. No one can know what we really need or want but ourselves. We have to let our spiritual intuition guide us to the right answers. Talking too much to others about challenges we’re facing is never helpful. Sure, once in a while we need a shoulder to cry on, but that’s different. I’m talking about the tendency to lean on others and hope, consciously or unconsciously, that they’ll make our decisions for us.

Much time that could have been spent in a better way is lost because of this false kind of influence and dependence. I’ve found it helpful to carefully weigh what people tell me about my life, what direction I should or shouldn’t go in, and so on. But I confess that it took me many years to wake up and stop letting people guide my life according to their wishes. I don’t think it needs to take that long. With more awareness, we can nip it in the bud.

Is disease “awareness” a good thing?

Scientists, philosophers, religionists, psychologists and even the ordinary man on the street seem, these days, to be more and more willing to openly acknowledge the power of thought. “You are what you think” is becoming even more popular than “you are what you eat,” and at least some people are taking the time to consider the possibility that life is more subjective than they thought it was.

People who know nothing at all about quantum physics (like me) are familiar with the now proven fact that phenomena changes according to who is viewing it.  And yet, with all these hints, most people still don’t bother to try to manage their own thinking, or to consider the effect that the thinking of other people might have on them.

One all-pervasive example that comes to mind are the numerous “breast cancer awareness” campaigns. The name alone should alert us, shouldn’t it? What is “awareness,” after all? One dictionary definition says “having knowledge or consciousness.” So, the obvious result of these campaigns is that they make us think more about breast cancer. Is this helpful? I don’t think so. Also, the color pink is always associated with these campaigns, so when we see pink, we think (consciously or not) “cancer.”

Some might argue that this “awareness” brings in more money for cancer research. But there is no proof that the medical establishment is making any progress in finding a cure for cancer, and is all this “awareness” really worth the price we may have to pay?

It is my settled conviction that these and similar campaigns do more harm than good. If something, anything, is repeated again and again to our thought, we end up embracing it and it becomes part of our mindset. How many jokes do you see on Facebook or get in your e-mail about the so-called unavoidable decrepitude of old age? Do you really think this stuff is funny? I love humor and laughing is one of my favorite pastimes, but I’ll be darned if I’m going to laugh about decrepitude and deterioration and turn it into an inevitable in my thinking and experience.

It is proverbial that people who think the least about negative things have a more positive life experience. Countless old people are in great shape and we could hardly say that every woman gets or will get breast cancer. Why is this so? The medical establishment has all kinds of theories about it, but more often than not people’s mental states are shunted off into the vapory realm of “alternative” approaches to well-being and not taken seriously.

The idea of positive thinking has been around for a long time, but I believe we’re reaching a point in history where not only do we have to be more alert to what we’re thinking and what kinds of thoughts we’re being exposed to, but that it’s time to start thinking of the source of good, healthy, positive thoughts as being universal and spiritual, rather than personal and material.

I propose that we use our awareness to look inward to who we really are and outward to what we really love. Then let’s devote our thought to that instead of wearing pink ribbons that make us think of ourselves and others as perishable and destructible.

Are you listening?

Or, I guess you could say: Who or what are you listening to?

When you’re making choices and decisions in your life, from the tiniest, seemingly most insignificant ones to the biggest, life-altering ones, how do you do it?

Do you ask your friends or family what to do? Do you make pro and con lists? Do you weigh all the possibilities and probable outcomes? Do you toss a coin or consult the Tarot?

Believe it or not, the best answer doesn’t lie in any of these things, or in anything outside ourselves, for that matter. The best answer is right where we are, in thought. But it’s not in disturbed, worried, anxious thought. It’s in that calm, peaceful thought that we discover to be ours when we get really, really quiet and just listen.

There’s a line in the book of Job in the Bible that I think really nails this state of mind: “…there is a spirit in man: and the inspiration of the Almighty giveth them understanding.” (Job 32:8) This isn’t something outside of us—it’s right here, right now, and is always accessible.

Sometimes when we listen, it seems that nothing comes to us. But it does—we just don’t hear it yet. It may come a little later, but we’ll recognize it because it will give us a sense of peace and confidence about which way to turn, what to do. Other times we’ll get an immediate “aha” feeling and we’ll feel sure that it’s the right solution.

Once in a while we’ll feel sure that we’ve listened to this intuition and have followed it, but things didn’t work out the way we had wished. When this happens—and it happens to all of us—don’t think you’ve made a mistake. Even if what you decided or did feels all wrong, just keep listening. You may be led to turn in a different direction, and when you do you’ll discover that you learned an important lesson from your “mistake” and that without this lesson, your next, better decision wouldn’t have been possible.

It’s all about being receptive to that inner voice, and being persistent in listening to it.

Breaking out

Have you ever felt that you’re not moving along as quickly as you’d like in some area of your life—that you’re not making the progress you’d hoped for?

I’ve felt this way many times, and I’m sure others have, too. Sometimes there are things in our lives that feel like stumbling blocks, and we just can’t seem to see any way around them. We feel stuck.

When this happens, it’s tempting to think that if we just push harder, or maybe take a big leap forward in spite of our hesitations and fears, that we can make that breakthrough we’re longing for. But often that doesn’t work out, and we end up even more afraid and sometimes so discouraged that we don’t feel like making any more efforts at all.

So what can we do?

I think there’s an example in nature that can help us. It’s been used as a metaphor many times, and I think it’s a very good one when we’re feeling trapped between pushing too hard and doing nothing at all. It’s the baby bird inside the egg. Have you ever seen a baby bird spend his whole life inside his egg? Of course not. But I bet you’ve never seen one just crack open his shell with one blow, either. The baby bird is a perfect example of patience, persistence, and common sense. He pecks at his shell a little at a time—peck, peck, peck. Then maybe he stops for a bit, but soon he’ll start pecking away again. And after a while there’ll be a little hole. He sees a tiny ray of light. So he keeps on pecking. And you know the rest of the story.

Why can’t we be like the little bird? Well, we can, of course. Whatever we’re faced with, we can patiently peck at our own shells until we see that first ray of light, and then finally the full splendor of freedom and accomplishment.

Is it because I’m creative, or am I just a slob?

Today I was remembering my college English professor, Emily Brady, who used to tell me that it was like pulling teeth for her to stop herself from going into to her kitchen to wash the dishes when she knew she was supposed to be writing. More often than not, though, she’d force herself to the typewriter, and the dishes would keep accumulating in the sink.

Then an old friend, Hartmut, came to mind. He’s an German architect in his 70s who’s been living in Brazil for many years. The last time I saw him he was still very active, jumping into the ocean for a swim every morning, playing in the bands in the Carnival parades, and always working on some architectural project, for profit or not. He lives in a tiny apartment in Copacabana that looks as though it’s never been cleaned. And Hartmut is blissfully unaware of the filth. Aging dust bunnies occupy every corner of his living room, and the one time I went into his kitchen he was cooking something in a pot that was encrusted with years of previously cooked meals, on top of a two-burner stove that had never been blessed by the touch of a scouring pad.

As I thought about this, I realized that I’m a lot like these two people. Well, probably more like Emily (is it because I’m a woman?), because I’m often tempted to go clean something or empty the garbage when I know I’d be better off practicing the piano or writing something. I don’t really think I’m a slob, and as I look around my apartment, I see that it looks more or less orderly. By that I mean that there’s not a lot of clutter around, magazines thrown on the floor, clothes hanging from doorknobs, stuff like that. But I also know that even though it doesn’t look like a mess, I couldn’t say it’s actually clean. I rarely wash the floors (although I’m often tempted), so I have to clean my feet in the bidet before I go to bed (I like being barefoot).

See, it’s really dirty where I live. I’m on the third floor with a big window overlooking a very busy street, and all the black dust, mixed with ocean spray, comes in the window and sticks to everything. Sticky, nasty black dust. Yeah, I know it’s just an excuse, but seriously folks, I have more important things to do than run a rag over my dirty floors every other day (which is about how often I’d have to do it to keep them clean).

As I was pondering this pressing issue, I recalled an incident from when I was a teenager. I had gotten a job doing some house cleaning for a friend of a schoolmate’s mother. She had me dust and vacuum every day, and wipe off all the surfaces in the kitchen with a damp rag. I thought it was really dumb to do that every day, because nothing was ever dirty. I mentioned this to my schoolmate, and what did she do? She went and told her mother’s friend what I’d said, the little snitch. How did I know this? Because the next day at work, this lady said to me, “You know, if you clean up every day, then you don’t have to deal with a lot of dirt. It’s much simpler.” Well, I was relieved that she didn’t scold me, but secretly I still thought it was dumb.

I thought, “Why should I waste my time doing this when there are better things to do?” And then I realized the truth of the matter: I actually like to clean things when they’re really dirty. For instance, I like to tackle an encrusted stove and scrub through layers of embedded grease until it’s all bright and shiny again. I find that much more satisfying than mindlessly running a rag over a surface that’s already clean. I guess that’s pretty much my philosophy about housekeeping. Or maybe it’s just another excuse. I don’t know. But I know that if I don’t stick to my guns about it, then I’ll be tempted to grab a broom or a dust rag every time I know it’s time to sit down at the piano or the computer and do something creative. Housekeeping is creative you say? Well…you’ll have to explain that one to me. I have nothing against it, and there’s actually something kind of appealing about the mindlessness of it—it can even be relaxing. And that’s where the temptation lies, at least for me.