Last month, Vietnamese monk Thich Nhat Hanh died at the age of 95. In many ways, he was responsible for taking the practice of mindfulness out of the confines of Buddhist temples and into the lived experience of everyday people. When I graduated from high school, my Spanish teacher gave me a book of his – Peace Is Every Step – that was a major factor in propelling me down this path. It’s a funny sort of book, and to be honest, I was quite underwhelmed by it. Here I was, an 18-year-old kid looking for the meaning of life, and this guy was talking about doing the dishes.
“I enjoy taking my time with each dish, being fully aware of the dish, the water, and each movement of my hands. I know that if I hurry in order to be able to finish so I can sit down sooner and eat dessert or enjoy a cup of tea, the time of washing dishes will be unpleasant and not worth living. That would be a pity, for each minute, each second of life is a miracle. The dishes themselves and the fact that I am here washing them are miracles!”
This did not resonate with me. Flash forward about 20 years, and I’m ashamed to say that I hadn’t exactly evolved on that matter. In fact, at one point, when our kids were about 5 and 1, I muttered to my wife, “I hope there’s more to life than washing dishes and doing the laundry.” She gave me a sympathetic smile, the implication being “ummm...not in our immediate future.”
OK, so I’m not a model of mindfulness all the time. But a funny thing happened over the past few years. Folding the laundry became, somehow, relaxing. And doing the dishes became a refuge. When other people offer to do the dishes, and I say, “that’s ok, I’ll do it,” they think I’m being polite. But actually, it’s one of the few times a day when I can step away and just focus on what I’m doing.
I’ll be the first to admit that having kids plays no small role in this shift. Having other people demand my attention all day at school, and then walking home to the same arrangement, suddenly makes doing the dishes a version of “me time.” I put on some good music and just let my mind settle on the very simple task in front of me. No curriculum controversies, no sibling rivalries, just dishes. And Thich Nhat Hanh smiles at me and says, “now that’s what I’m talking about.”
So here’s to the guy who planted that seed all those years ago – a seed that is still finding new ways to blossom as the path of life leads me in ever new directions. Thank you, Sra. Wilder, for the book. And thank you, Thich Nhat Hanh, for the peace in every step.
If you’re looking for a little refuge from the demands of daily life, you can try this guided practice.
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