Viewing Life as Doing Laundry

Laundry.  Does it ever go away?  Is the laundry basket ever empty?  How much laundry can be produced by a family of five in just one day?

I've done my share of laundry in my years - dorm life, single, marriage, raising three sons.  Knowing how to do laundry is a life skill because having clean clothes is important.

When I go into the garage to sort the laundry, I have time to myself.  Time to think.  Time to ponder.  I sometimes have the most interesting conversations with myself upon the most unusual connections in my life.

I have come to realize that life is a bit like doing laundry.  You have to separate the darks from the lights.  The purple team uniform - cross country, wrestling, track - must be done separately in cold water on delicate.  Don't put your best looking top with the muddy clothes from camping.  Each piece of clothing has different needs and requires different levels of care.

There are times when I have been tempted just to throw all in together.  It would be so simple.

But then I've had my disasters too.  No matter how hard I try, a purple sock finds its way into a load of whites.  These things happen.  You say "oh well" and enjoy purple-tinted underwear.

Life is like that as well.  You try to separate and take care of each part of your life.  You keep sorting and hope for the best.  Then there are the disasters which shape and change your life.  You learn from it and move forward.  After all wearing a pair of purple-tinted underwear isn't so bad - just don't tell anyone!

A Bench for Contemplation

This is my bench.  Please notice that I wrote my bench.  In my mind, this bench belongs to me especially after I have walked from my home along the Iron Horse and Canal Trail through Poet's Corner to this bench.  A round trip is 6.22 miles so to this bench, it is 3.11 miles.

By the way, I am quite annoyed when someone is sitting on my bench.  Somehow it does not feel right to sit down next to a complete stranger on my bench.  And the next bench up the trail is many steps away.  I will retrace my steps to another bench just down the small incline to sit.

The view from this bench isn't grand such as overlooking San Francisco Bay or a beach or mountains.  I like the view from this bench because it represents my hometown.  I can actually say that I have spent more years here in Walnut Creek/Pleasant Hill area than where I was born and raised.

The view includes the canal with water in it, a grassy slope, wildflowers depending on the season, an old orchard with trees that are tired-looking, the tops of houses, small hills with the sun dancing on the grass.  The view is calming and provides an anchor in my life.

As part of my weekly therapy, walking is a key.  Walking puts me outside in the fresh air.  When I talk, I either talk to myself, talk with my husband, or just let my mind wander.  Thinking, talking, reflecting, questioning is so important when one is wrestling with the next right step.

"What are you feeling?"   "What do I want to do....?"  What should I be doing?"  "What about...."?

My bench is a place to sit in quiet.  I sit in silence - hearing birds sing, the grass sway and sometimes in the distance a train whistle.

My bench is place for contemplation.