Oh! How I wish I had a house keeper

"I never wanted to be Jane. I always wanted to be Tarzan. I didn't want to vacuum the tree house. I wanted to swing from the vines."

Yes, I am of the female species, but I do not like to keep the house. I like it to be orderly and clean, but I do not like to do the chores. Here is the list of chores around the house that I am always behind on:

1. Clean the bathrooms.
2. Keep the kitchen clean and tidy.
3. Dust all the furniture, everyday.
4. Vacuum and mop the floors, at least once a week.
5. Organize  all the closets and then maintain them.
6. Organize the garage - that is a HUGE task! That 'room' is our junkyard!
7. Put things in their right places. Pick up that towel on the floor, the clothes on the bed, shoes that lie around the house.
8. Load the dishwasher.
9. Wash all the do-not-put-in-the-dishwasher utensils, and glasses by hand; dry and put them away, I mean right-away after use.
10. Take the garbage out.
11. Put the garbage cans out on the pavement on garbage collection days, and bring them back.
12. Keep the tabletops clear and organized, including the large bar we have.
13. Water the plants, right amount at the right time.
14. Weed the garden.
15. Put out ant baits in summer.
16. Sweep and keep the patio clean. Power wash patio once every season.
17. Plant new annuals during season to keep the house looking cheerful.
18. Fertilize the garden and house plants.
19. Pick up Freo and Ozzie's toys.
20. Make a list of all the groceries to buy.
21. Buy the said groceries.
22. Collect all clothes to be washed, sort them.
23. Do the laundry. I have a strict rule to only do laundry when there is enough for a full load. I am VERY water conscious. Hey! It's my job!
24. Fold clothes after laundry.
25. Iron clothes, hang them in the closet, coordinated.
26. Organize the dressers - that's huge! Dressers are notorious for becoming chaotic over time. Each sock needs to be with it's pair, and the intimates folded and stacked.
27. Label and organize the DVD and CD collection.
28. Organize the wine collection.
29. Mend clothes, fix those buttons and tiny rips in otherwise perfect clothes.
30. Serve dinner at the dining table each night, and clean right after.
31. Pack lunch. Prepare for next day's breakfast.
32. Cut the vegetables and meat for me when I cook. Especially grind the masalas as I instruct.
33. Clean refrigerator regularly.
34. Call the plumber to fix the kitchen tap. 
35. Figure out which pipe in the house tends to vibrate when the tap is turned on at the other end of the house - that pipe will break someday and we will have a big leak!
36. Change the light bulbs, especially the ones that are high up and I cannot reach.
37. Get the electrician over and take care of few annoying switches around the house.
38. Get match-up paint and paint over some scratches and drywall patches.
39. Synchronize all the house clocks, twice a year. And check the fire alarm batteries.
40. Deep clean the cupboards in the kitchen, at least once a month.
41. Label and organize the pantry.
42. Maintain a running list of all the things running out and all the things we need to buy, sorted by which store to visit - Costco / Target / Trader Joes / Other.
43. Sometimes, walk Ozzie and Freo when I am feeling particularly lazy or tired or simply want time out.
44. Once a quarter, take all the silver / crystal out and clean them.
45. Change out the bed spreads, curtains, etc. and get them laundered and pressed, and re-installed.
46. Get seasonal display items sorted and organized, stored for the future.
47. Sort and set out donation items.
48. Put together a 'gift box' with all-purpose cards, wrapping paper, ribbons, gift bags, etc. ready to go.
49. Print out photos, get them framed. Move decorations around the house every season to give the home a 'fresh' look.
50. Pack and put away winter clothes in spring and then bring them back out in late fall.
51. Get the mail every day, sort mail and get rid of the junk. Then process the mail promptly.
52. Sweep the front yard once a month and get the leaves and other 'stuff' out of the yard.

And many more....

Kudos to all those women who take care of all this, and kids, and work hard at the office, and also find time to put their feet up with a glass of wine and watch a movie. I cannot do it all!!

So I sit here, in my messy imperfect home, and just hope that someday I will be able to make enough money to hire a housekeeper and delegate all these chores that do not give me any joy to perform.

Aah! Someday......

A Truck-load of Dung

You know that feeling when you are searching for solutions and it was right in front of you all the time, waiting for you to 'see' it. Often the solution is easy, simple to the core, and you go 'duh'! But the solution is also often very difficult to implement. One such a situation is happening in my life right now. One person very close to me is going through a difficult phase, the answer sits in front of us, but it is extremely difficult to implement.

Shell on Sand

Today I am particularly in a reflective mood, and in such times, I often open some of my favorite books to get a shot of strength. This story below touched me very much, once again.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

"A truck-load of dung" from the book "Opening the door of your heart", by Ajahn Brahm.

Unpleasant things, like coming bottom of our class, happen in life. They happen to everyone. The only difference between a happy person and one who gets depressed is how they respond to disasters.

Imagine you have just had a wonderful afternoon at the beach with a friend. When you return home, you find a huge truck-load of dung has been dumped right in front of your door. There are three things to know about this truck-load of dung :

1. You did not order it. It's not your fault.
2. You're stuck with it. No one saw who dumped it, so you cannot call anyone to take it away.
3. It is filthy and offensive, and its stench fills your whole house. It is almost impossible to endure. 

In this metaphor, the truck-load of dung in front of the house stands for the traumatic experiences that are dumped on us in life. As with the truckload of dung, there are three things to know about tragedy in our life:

1. We did not order it. We say 'Why me?'
2. We're stuck with it. No one, not even our best friends, can take it away (though they may try).
3. It is so awful, such a destroyer of our happiness, and its pain fills our whole life. It is almost impossible to endure.

There are two ways of responding to being stuck with a truck-load of dung. The first way is to carry the dung around with us. We put some in our pockets, some in our bags, and some up our shirts. We even put some down our pants. We find when we carry dung around, we lose a lot of friends! Even best friends don't seem to be around so often.

"Carrying around the dung" is a metaphor for sinking into depression, negativity, or anger. It is a natural and understandable response to adversity. But we lose a lot of friends, because it is also natural and understandable that our friends don't like being around us when we're so depressed. Moreover, the pile of dung gets no less, but the smell gets worse as it ripens.

Fortunately, there's a second way. When we are dumped with a truckload of dung, we heave a sigh, and then get down to work. Out come the wheelbarrow, the fork, and the spade. We fork the dung into the barrow, wheel it around the back of the house, and dig it into the garden. This is tiring and difficult work, but we know there's no other option.

Sometimes, all we can manage is half a barrow a day. We're doing something about the problem, rather than complaining our way into depression. Day after day we dig in the dung. Day after day, the pile gets smaller. Sometimes it takes several years, but the morning does come when we see that the dung in front of our house is all gone.

Furthermore, a miracle has happened in another part of our house. The flowers in our garden are bursting out in a richness of color all over the place. Their fragrance wafts down the street so that the neighbors, and even passers-by, smile in delight. Then the fruit tree in the corner is nearly falling over, it's so heavy with fruit. And the fruit is so sweet; you can't buy anything like it. There's so much of it that we are able to share it with our neighbors.  Even passers-by get a delicious taste of the miracle fruit.

"Digging in the dung" is a metaphor for welcoming the tragedies as fertilizer for life. It is work that we have to do alone: no one can help us here. But by digging it into the garden of our heart, day by day, the pile of pain gets less.

It may take us several years, but the morning does come when we see no more pain in our life and, in our heart, a miracle has happened. Flowers of kindness are bursting out all over the place, and the fragrance of love wafts way down our street, to our neighbors,  to our relations, and even to passers-by. Then our wisdom tree in the corner is bending down to us, loaded with sweet insights into the nature of life. We share those delicious fruits freely, even with the passers-by, without ever planning to.

When we have known tragic pain, learnt its lesson, and grown our garden, then we can put our arms around another in deep tragedy and say, softly, 'I know.' They realize we do understand. Compassion begins. We show them the wheelbarrow, the fork, and the spade, and boundless encouragement. If we haven't grown our own garden yet, this can't be done.

I have known many monks who are skilled in meditation, who are peaceful, composed and serene in adversity. But only a few have become great teachers. I often wondered why.

It seems to me now that those monks who had a relatively easy time of it, who had little dung to dig in, were the ones who didn't become teachers. It was the monks who had the enormous difficulties, dug them in quietly, and came through with a rich garden that became great teachers.

They all had wisdom, serenity and compassion; but those with more dung had more to share with the world. My teacher, Ajahn Chah, who for me was the pinnacle of all teachers, must have had a whole trucking company line up with their dung at his door, in his early life.

Perhaps the moral of this story is that if you want to be of service to the world, if you wish to follow the path of compassion, then the next time a tragedy occurs in your life, you may say, "Whoopee! More fertilizer for my garden!"

It's Too Much to Hope For

It's too much to hope for a life without pain,
It's wrong to expect a life without pain, 
For pain is our body's defense.
No matter how much we dislike it,
And nobody likes pain,
Pain is important,
And, For pain we should be grateful!

How else would we know,
To move our hand from the fire?
Our finger from the blade?
Our foot from the thorn?
So pain is important,
And for pain we should be grateful!

Yet,
There's a type of pain that serves no purpose,
That's chronic pain,
It's that elite brand of pain that's not for defense.
It's an attacking force.
An attacker from within
A destroyer of personal happiness
An aggressive assailant on personal ability
A ceaseless invader of personal peace
And,
A continuous harassment to life!

Chronic pain is the hardest hurdle for the mind to jump.
Sometimes it is almost impossible to jump,
Yet, we must keep trying,
And trying,
And trying,
Because if we don't it will destroy.

And,
From this battle will come some good,
The satisfaction of overcoming pain.
The achievement of happiness and peace, of life in spite of it.
This is quite an achievement,
An achievement very special, very personal,
A feeling of strength
Of inner strength
Which has to be experienced to be understood.

So, we all have to accept pain,
Even sometimes destructive pain.
For it is part of the scheme of things,
And the mind can manage it,
And the mind will become stronger for the practice. 

This lovely insightful poem was written by Jonathan Wilson-Fuller when he was just nine years old. He suffers from an unusual condition that makes him allergic to the world we take for granted. He lives in an artificial sterile environment.

Whenever I am down and feel that I am running out of strength to deal with all the issues and problems crushing my life, I think of this poem. We are indeed made by the pain we overcome. If a nine-year old can 'get it', so can I. This poem is a constant reminder for need to understand and bridle my hope and desire with reality.