The dishes need washing again.
The clothes, folding.
There’s dust on the shelves, again.
And the garden is getting overgrown.
It’s easy to complain about all this, to resent the repetitive cleaning-up that we have to do – of our houses, our workplaces, our relationships.
But isn’t our resentment really just an attempt to shield ourselves from the truth that the world is always falling apart, as are we?
This change is the unchangeable nature of things. The second law of thermodynamics guarantees it. And without it there could be no life, because a world without disintegration is a world without movement, a world without living process, a world without birth. We owe our lives to the mess.
So can we clean up what needs cleaning up in order to live and thrive, without hating the world for making us do it?
Can we see the seeds of our very existence in the dust? Can we know it as an essential property of the world that produced us?
And can we find it within ourselves to turn, hands-on, towards the sacred messiness of our lives and find some measure of joy and gratitude there instead of fighting, so hard, to be free of it?