What an Old Clothesline Helped Me Remember
I’m what you’d call a laid back fellow. My boiling point is very high. I’m not prone to anger, and very few things get under my skin. There are, however, a couple activities I abhor. We all got ‘em. One of mine would be chopping onions; hate it. Can’t stand the pungent little buggers, so I’ll usually outsource the dicing of onions to my wife. Another activity I harbor a strong dislike for is folding the laundry. I much prefer shoveling everything out of the drier into a large basket and then cramming it all into drawers, or, better yet, tossing the clothes into a clean pile which I can rummage through as needed. Folding laundry kills me.
So it was yesterday that I found myself staring down a load of freshly washed clothes. I hesitated hauling them out of the washer because I knew in a little less than an hour I’d have to fold them. I eyed the drier. Little fucker was smirking at me. So with cold, invigorating spite, I took the laundry outside and began hanging it on the clothesline. Of course, I’d eventually be faced with the prospect of folding them regardless of how they dried but the act of dissing the drier filled me with pleasure.
Truth is, I’d been meaning to use the clothesline for awhile now. It’s good for the environment. It’s good for the electric bill. It’s a beautiful day outside. Wet clothes yearn for a line. I’d imagine they dread a drier as much as I do. I told myself I was doing us both a favor as I finished the task and walked away to other business.
About two hours later I returned. The clothes felt dry to me, some damp spots but whatever, good enough, and here’s the funny thing; with the early afternoon sun washing the backyard in glorious light, a gentle breeze flowing around me, birds chirping and frogs croaking, I quite naturally and unconsciously began to fold the laundry.
At first I didn’t even notice, but after a few shirts hit the laundry basket neatly folded I realized what I was doing; folding the laundry with a content smile on my face. Immediately my mind took action and forcibly reminded me that this activity sucked balls and I should immediately toss the remaining clothes into the basket and be done with it. The Mind goes something like this - “You’ve got shit to do buddy. Hurry up and get this crappy activity over with so you can get back to something important like surfing the internet or listening to me worry about the latest and greatest problem.” Because I was in such a state of simple happiness I was able to let the Mind Rant pass me by and continued folding the laundry under the warm sun, pleased to take it slow and enjoy the simple task.
Later in the evening I gave this experience some more thought. Why had I so enjoyed folding the clothes when I’ve always hated the task with a burning passion. A couple things came to mind. One, the benefits of “saving” the environment aren’t necessarily outward directed, and, two, technology can be a terrible crutch.
In the matter of the environment the main reason I decided to use the clothes line was because I feel it’s more environmentally friendly. Driers, aside from being grumpy beasts, use tons of energy. Clotheslines do not, but here’s the thing; all the environmentally advice, all the pressures to conserve, while I may agree with the benefits, can feel like unwanted obligations. You know, I’m gonna use the God damn drier so stop with the environmental preaching. Let the world blow up into noxious gas I’m using my truck and so forth. Taking care of the environment can feel like a bitch because it’s yet another thing to take care of.
Sure it’s worthwhile, sure it’s important, and sure we need to take it seriously, but there’s times it can be a drag because many of the benefits of doing so are amorphous and removed from your space and time. Hanging the clothes yesterday gave me a different perspective on conservation. Perhaps one I’ve know but haven’t felt, conceptualized, but haven’t experienced so strongly before. The immediate benefit of conservation and going green are internalized feelings of peace and satisfaction felt at an individual level. Using a clothesline is good for the environment sure, but the true joy comes from experiencing the blissful simplicity of mindfully engaging in an activity. It’s the spiritual centered-ness, the witnessing of I, that’s the payoff for simplifying your environmental footprint.
The clothesline experience also reminded me that technology can become a crutch and an excuse. I’ll often abdicate my responsibility to technology. Oops, drier’s broken, can’t do the laundry, or crap, internet connection is bonked, can’t finish my to-do list today. Technology is great and provides us with marvelous benefits but hanging clothes on the line reminded me that ultimately I’m responsible for my life. Gadgets and gizmos come and go. Tying my adventure and productivity to them seems a bit of a fools game at times. It’s like that old Zen saying, Barn roof burned down. Now I can see the moon. We need to be able to see the moon through the technology.
And all this just because of an old clothesline. Imagine what weeding the garden will do to me. I’ll write an meandering manifesto on the pacifying grace of a callused and battered hand.
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