
Last week, as I made my way through a morning-long panic attack, I weeded my gardens, cleaned my kitchen, and folded laundry. Laundry has always been meditation to me. Give me your towels, your fitted sheets, your underwear even, and I will make symmetry of it all. Strangely, later that same panicky day, I came across the poem below. From wildness we improvise order.
Folding the Clothes, by Sarah Sadie
Even the most capacious bath towels fold
into squares, and the wash cloths fold
into smaller squares. Pants meet themselves
and quiet down nicely. Underwear
resigns itself, socks domesticate, and the shirts,
well, the shirts get wrinkled.
They’ll have plenty of time to relax
dreaming through hours a rumor of buttons.
Which is not to say shirts meditate, but
there’s almost a Zen to the job, if that weren’t so trendy.
Almost the little sand garden with its rake
and its rock.
Its imagined snake.
For more information about Sarah Sadie, please click here.
Your posts are so poignant and spot on. I love your thinking.
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