The Zen of Folding Laundry–dVerse Haibun Monday

Today at dVerse Poet’s Pub we are writing Haibun to the theme of an ordinary day–one paragraph and a Haiku that includes reference to nature and a season. I chose to write a little flash fiction in the prose part of this, though I do find this task quite Zen-like. And I wish I did have a folding table.

The Zen of Folding Laundry
A Haibun (Fiction)

When the dryer buzzed, Maria set about the task of folding laundry. Not that long ago it was a task she despised—resenting that fact that her man changed clothes way too often and never raised a finger to help her, preferring to criticize when things weren’t just so. That was before her teacher taught her to meditate. Today, she tunes in to the robin song outside her open window. Breathes deeply of the fragrant cool breeze and the floral scent of the dryer sheets. Her laundry table is now covered with a checkered fabric and she uses the squares to guide the folds, noting with satisfaction the beauty of the tee shirts in a variety of colors piled high to her left. All is well. Tony hardly ever beats her anymore.

sweet pea scents waft in
refresh the room and soul-soothe
peace in this moment

The Zen of Soup-Making: Monday Meanderings

Photo: cincinnatiwaldorschool.org

Most everyone who has visited my blog knows that my husband is the cook. I’m the housekeeper and laundress, but he is the chef. That does not mean, however, that on occasion I’m not drawn to the kitchen.

The “occasion” began yesterday when I had the bone of a turkey breast to dispose of and decided, instead, to begin a pot of soup. I tossed it in a pot, added finely chopped celery, onions and carrots, water and chicken broth and left it on its own over a low heat. Soon the house was filled with an appetite-inducing aroma. I waited for the Master Chef to do his magic with the spices then, after it stewed some more, allowed it to cool before relegating it to the fridge overnight.

This morning, as it began to warm up again on the stove, I took it a step further. That was when I came to realize that soup-making could, indeed, become a sacred moment and a powerful tool of the creative muse.

As I cut chunks of carrots, the sounds of the blade against the cutting board wed the song of finches eating from the feeder outside the kitchen window. Two dogs sat, ears pricked, eyes fixed on my every move, hoping I would notice and reward them with a tiny morsel. When I switched to celery, their interest waned.

A few minutes later, a mallard couple stealthily made their way up from the pond, planning, no doubt, to encroach upon the smaller birds seed. I waved them off, reminding them that I would toss what was left onto their turf when the finches and sparrows had finished.

My chopping continued followed by clean up as I contemplated the wonder of simple tasks completed with awareness. It was a time to surrender to the stillness, to trust. A time to gestate.

Such is the magic of simple tasks, a spiritual discipline, an uncluttered mind.

On another note, I find I need to take some time to bring a couple of projects to completion. Although I will continue to post, my participation will be more limited for a while. I’ve made the difficult decision to step away from hosting a dVerse for a few months (after this weeks Meeting the Bar)–however long it takes me to publish a novel that’s sitting out there waiting for my attention. I’ve decided to go the route of self-publishing on this one. I will continue to share on-line, but in a more limited role. And I remain committed, of course, to comment on those who visit my work.

Writing and Zen: “Mariette in Ecstasy” A Book Review

Most every spiritual tradition invites us to cultivate the art of being fully aware in the present moment. So much creative inspiration can be culled by attentiveness to detail.

I’m currently reading “Mariette in Ecstasy” by Ron Hansen–the fictional story of a postulant in a contemplative religious order. The author, a Catholic deacon, has an incredible command of detail. Some of the critiques I read on Amazon.com noted that there seemed to be an ill-defined plot, but in my view, this book is an example of the most brilliant attention to detail and sensory description. It is like reading an epic poem.

If you are looking to experience metaphor at it’s best and experimental fiction that, to me, does seem to go somewhere, I suggest checking it out. The read itself invites exploration of one’s relationship to God in a very Catholic context and is a good example of character-driven literary fiction.

(I purchased this book on my Kindle and was not asked to review it.)