So, I like folding laundry. I like it a lot. I like it more than I probably should. My friend Rachel and I joke around about simple things that are extremely pleasurable to do. For me it's folding laundry. That's one of them anyway. It's joined by other such things as washing my hands, stretching my back, having my hair played with, having my face touched and the list goes on. I'm a weird guy, what can I say? I guess it started out when I read Thich Nhat Hahn's book, Peace Is Every Step. In it, he talks about bells of mindfulness. In the Zen monastery they would have bells that would ring throughout the day and wherever the monks were at the time, the bell would ring and they would hear it and be reminded to breath deeply, enjoy this moment of life completely, and be totally aware of everything around them. This was a bell of mindfulness. He suggests that simple things throughout the day can function as bells of mindfulness if we choose to make them so. Washing your hands, folding laundry, or the ringing of the telephone can be a bell of mindfulness if you think to yourself, "Every time the telephone rings, I will stop, breath deeply, and appreciate life fully." This can even work for negative things like being cut off in traffic. If we could stop and breath deeply every time someone cut us off in traffic we'd live a lot less stressful lives. The first thing I thought of was folding laundry.
When I read the book, I was living in Philadelphia and was home alone so I thought that I'd fold some laundry just then (since then I've tragically lost the book to the disastrous morning following Josh's 21st birthday but that's a whole other story). So I opened my clean but unfolded laundry bag and went to work. This ended up being a truly life changing event. I discovered that not only did I slow down and enjoy life a little more, I actually enjoyed folding laundry a lot. It wasn't just a time-out from life, it was a luxurious vacation. I enjoyed making all of the wrinkles disappear as I slowly pressed each irregularity from the fabric. I'm quite the tactile person so I especially enjoyed all of the different textures of my clothing. I could feel the quality of some of the clothes and the lack there of in others. I enjoyed creating order out of chaos and yet the cruelty of the fact that I would have to do this again once I wore and washed the article did not escape me. I enjoyed the cyclical nature of it and saw the whole thing as a deeper metaphor for life. Chaos and order until one day the garment would be too tattered to be worn anymore and I'd through it away or give it away.
Many of my clothes, especially my T-shirts have stories behind them. My sister enjoys feeding my hobby for random T-shirts from salvation army. You know what I mean. Shirts with softball teams on them that you never played for, or a church you've never attended. Construction company's you never worked for or a band you've never even heard of. The less I know about the shirt the better. I suppose that's kind of a trendy thing right now but I find deeper meaning in it. I like wearing a shirt that has nothing to do with me because it has everything to do with me. If I can learn to see the deep connection between myself and every stranger I walk past every day then I think I'd be better off. Wearing these random shirts makes me think about that. I hate when stores manufacture shirts that try to seem random. It has to truly have been someone's bowling team at some point in time, not just one that the gap made up for a T-shirt line. So, I think of the story behind each shirt as I fold it and make sure the hem at the bottom isn't flipped over. As I perfectly line up the two sleeves I think about some of my favorite memories I've lived in the shirt. My one maroon shirt has become my choice when it comes to Wasting Revolution gigs along with a particular pair of jeans. I laugh as I fold the ever thinning fabric of my "As I Got Older, I Got Better" shirt. A classic in the Jason Bachman wardrobe. I laugh as I fold my PJ's as they always take me back to Philadelphia and the first teat brushing experience. All of these stories and memories come flooding back to me as I lean back a little using my stomach and thigh as a temporary surface to fold on.
I'll be honest, I get lost in it. I actually am kind of sad when I get done a pile and there are no more clothes to finesse. It feels like I've made order of my life and there's nothing else to fix, but I know that that's not true. A few more days and there will be plenty more to fix, more seams to line up, more creases to press out, and more of the wonderful smell of fabric softener to relish.
Well, I just heard the dryer buzz so I'm off for fifteen minutes of heaven. What is it that you love to do? What's a simple pleasure in your life? Leave a comment. I'd love to hear from you.  ¶ 6:16 AM