Thursday, May 14, 2009

Cleaning In Between the Cracks

On Tuesday the landlady called to say that mowing the lawn is in the lease, and the lawn needs to be mowed. Yes, it does, I see looking out the window. One of those things I have to get around to. She was sweet and offered to send over a guy and I sure said, "Thank you!" and he fixed it up good.
That gave me the bug to Spring clean, as it's finally May and beautiful out, now that Mother's Day passed. But it was hard to get outside, since this Mother's Day was rainy and cold out, and I couldn't go to the Botanic Gardens like I wanted to get some roses and sun and we went to see Star Trek at the movies instead.
So the landlady's nudging got me out of my house and work. So I bought a new plastic bucket and some Mr. Clean and attacked the kids' bathroom. I should be working, but I have so much to do I can't begin unless I clear my mind. And having this space of mindless, physical motion brings the answers I need. I had to clean the bathroom because it was looking a tad schizophrenic like my mother was, and I worry about Paloma because she has the learning disability and her room and organizational skills are heinous and it looks a lot like my mother! She always undoes the bandaid wrappers and leaves them all over the floor, clothing and towels on the floor, yuck!
So I sloshed around, getting rid of this 1970s era stuff - schizophrenia and filth that was my childhood home on the prairie of East Boulder. And funny because this house I rent now was built in that era, just real close to the foothills and mountains, so a different energy about it. The tub and toilet were filthy, and the toothpaste splattered on the mirror, harkening of childhood. I had so scrub up this cat litter clay that got wet. I mean this place was sparkling by the time I finished it and what a difference! As I work I talk to myself, As The Queen of Bohemia. I think about Justin or Peter or Frank or any of all the suffering I have and if vengeance or anger or fear comes up, I slip to the transcendent where the Queen attitude resides. I no longer go there. I am free from that hell and karma. A Queen over rides such petty issues of the world. The Queen is a mother, who holds me and tells me that the world is a beautiful and safe place and that love and goodness do prevail. She tells me to expect only glorious life, and all its demons are actually her most faithful servants. It is a grounding in the Self. To think positive and move the body in rhythm with it to really get it sunk in. This double Saturn time to really show me rock bottom to finally claim the bottom of the Self, and find that faith again. That it's safe to believe in one's Self. That one is valuable and desired and respected. That there is something to be felt that is good about one's Self, and a knowing that everything will be all right. That success and financial and life abundance are mine. As well as boundaries, respect and value. And that coming from the yogic centered seat of the Self, everything radiates from there. My children, and how important it is to get Paloma whatever tests, tutoring or medical she needs. And how important it is for Alejandro to go to a very good school for his academic progress because he is so bright. I scrub and scrub and scrub. And that's the price of staying here in Boulder, where it is quite expensive to live, but it's worth it. It's beautiful here, where I can hike every morning in the foothills with Pepe. And walk to Paloma's school now (she's switching). So I feel positive about myself and very happy that I have decided to stay here. For at least another year. Moving home to Dad and to purge the house is a regression to negative, fearful thinking. What focus consumed by it's thoughts to move there in the first place? Better served focused on glorious art and service. And that is what is required to make it come about. It's a feeling and a knowing.
So I worked a lot and got caught up on all those piddle details of business and the garage after the kids got home, because I definitely love the outdoors and gardening. Cleaning the garage was satisfying, again, focusing on the eternal present and being in my body and my breath, erasing all history and memory, any residue of dark thoughts and feelings associated with the past and my mother and 1388 Kilkenny Street. The thoughts are not paranoid, over thinking, doubtful and fearful and hanging out in the halls of dungeons and trolls and all those people you attract around you who want to suck your energy dry. But attracting dependable, safe, kind people and resources who support you in your glorious creation. The kids and I got ice cream and we picked up some plants and potting soil. I spiffed up the porch, rearranging my clay pots and plants up the steps while Paloma climbed in the tree and Pepe ran around. I put the garbage cans in the garage and swept everything clean. The house looked great, clean and well -cared for, respected and honored. It reminded me with it's white colonial style and its beauty as if it were a wedding. And I think that is why I dreamt of some weddings a few nights ago. Married to my Self and my children and home. This is how I heal my home, by healing my own heart. And then my children's can heal, and the ancestors can heal, and every one is forgiven and the whole world just opens up and everybody is healed and loved and joyful.
And finally in full gear, I cleaned my bathroom, where if cat pee were there, it was gone. Scrubbing the toilets and rearranging my place where I honor myself and clean myself. To get myself up every morning and put myself together. To shower and style my hair, brush my teeth and put on make up and jewelry. Something my mother never did. When you have a bag lady for a mother who dug in the neighbors' trash cans for a beauty role model, it can be confusing. I pay attention to my appearance and I help Paloma do it too. Good modeling for her. I French-braided her beautiful, thick hair the other day and we made sure the wash was done I have to get at them to pick up and remember, but Alejandro's getting it. He's growing up and understanding how things work. Back to the bathroom, I scrubbed the mold that was beginning to accumulate in my shower. That film that hangs over everything, it's gone. Like the veil of Maya, lifting, and all you see is physics in action. And there is no explaination. At least not with the head. And so, as Dad insists, maybe everything will be over in 2012 as we go into the fourth dimension, so I shouldn't worry about a thing anyways.

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