With the season of spring soon approaching, it would be time to give the house a thorough clean up from top to bottom sorting out the old and the new, the torn and the goo as well as removing the dirty and useless articles. The entire act of “spring cleaning” takes time to bring in the final finish of being fresh, new and neat.
“The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart.” St. Jerome
While many of us may engage in “cleaning the house” , few of us actually invovlve ourselves in the spiritual, mental and emotional cleaning. While these latter aspects are difficult to do and hence avoided, doing them would give us a fresher outlook on life.
“We are shaped by our thoughts; we become what we think. When the mind is pure, joy follows like a shadow that never leaves.” Buddha
It is in these moments that I recall to mind, a story forwarded in my social network pages. It has been translated, yet the essence is “cleaning should be the best where it is the least visible”.
I remember how quite as a child I had first washed the floor in my grandmother’s village house. I had tried very hard and washed out till the boards shone in the sun. After I had completed, I had called my grandmother. Grandma came, looked and then silently went to the bed, raised the bedspread, which almost hung to the floor, knelt down and quietly called me. I walked over, sank down beside her and wondering, peering under the bed. There, among the fluffy clumps of dust and dried blades of grass, from a newly dried clover, lay my sock lost a couple of days ago.
“If you clean, always clean so that where it was not visible cleaner than anything! Good?” she asked softly.
– OK, Grandma.
Many years have passed since then and today there is no grandmother next to me. The village house is abandoned. But still, remembering my grandmother’s words, I often think of the “dark corners” of our souls and the “brilliant surfaces” of our lives, exposed. In those moments a quiet, gentle and strict voice as an audible, unearthly echo comes like my grandmother’s voice, “Well?”