Life of the spirit and the art of carpet cleaning

I contemplate my life, my purpose.

The floor is covered in pieces of dirt. 

Life sneaks through our fingers and drops its debris everywhere.

This carpet will need a good hoover today. 

At times, I feel a bit adrift and rudderless. 

Some of those spots on the carpet will need to be scrubbed after hoovering. 

Finding direction is hard when stationary in the water. 

It’s only when I start to make progress on the carpet. I will suddenly see how filthy the settee has become. 

Momentum is needed to achieve anything of worth in life. 

Perhaps I should make a list, to-do list 

1. hoover carpet 

2. clean spots on the carpet 

3. wipe down the settee

When I get started, I can make some adjustments in life as I go, these first steps are just the beginning!

1. Forgive everyone

2. Work on my own defects

3. Clean the rust from off my soul

Spring cleaning in September?

It began simply. Over Sunday lunch my mum was trying to tell visiting family members just what she’d done the previous day. However, she just couldn’t bring to her mind the words necessary to describe exactly what she had achieved. Sitting beside her I felt deep sympathy because I too have reached an age when perfectly simple words do not bubble up when you most need them. My mum adopted her usual approach, in these circumstances, she pointed out of the window and said “I painted the thing below the kitchen window outside”. The ‘thing’ of course was the windowsill. She had spent a happy hour painting the mucky grey windowsill a blistering white colour. In fact, this cleanness she had appreciated so much she had decided to paint another object white as well. Sitting at the table, I felt quite sorry for my mum when the word ‘windowsill’ wouldn’t come up and wanted to rush in and provide it. But I have learnt that when you start to talk for the person, though you think you’re helping, you’re actually sabotaging them. Longer term they start to cease using this tricky language business and rely on you more and more for translation purposes. However, having struggled to describe the windowsill paint job the other painted object was even trickier. I felt genuine sympathy as I couldn’t remember the name of the thing she had painted either. So, I explained, she had painted white the cement inside the tyre wheel holding up the post with the clothes hanging above it in the garden. I had forgotten the word ‘rotary washing line’. Such is life at present! Just when I begin to feel sorry that life is so confusing and tricky for my mum I discover that life has snuck up behind me and is proving equally problematic for me. This amuses my mum who often tells me triumphantly, “You become like the people you live with, you know!” It doesn’t stop with language quirks. Last week I discovered my mum has started spring cleaning. I should’ve guessed when the week before she started painting the windowsill. But to be honest it was only when she cleaned all the shelves in the sunroom and all the material on a nearby trolley and the windows that I suddenly tweaked that this spring clean was a real thing she had begun. I remonstrated with her that this is the end of September, no time to start a spring clean, but she smiled and said confidently, “Better early than late!” Since then she has gone on to tackle the kitchen cupboards, the large corridor storage cupboard and all the drawers. It is exhausting just watching her busily hauling out, cleaning and rearranging stuff. By the fourth day I was caught up in her wake and I started cleaning the bathroom even removing shower doors to do it properly. It is a contagious thing this spring cleaning. The problem is once you start you suddenly realise how dirty everything has become. In comparison to the sparking clean surface you have wiped, the tiles above it appear yellow and grease stained. Once the walls have been bleached into shiny submission the skirting boards take on a disgusting complexion. And so, it goes on! Having cleaned some tiny aspect of the house with much effort we both have a ridiculous evening show and tell session. She shows me what she has done, pulling open cupboard doors to display ordered shelves neatly stacked and I point out my cleaning achievements to her. I suspect with time this will grow into routine mutual applause at both our efforts. At first, I was annoyed especially when my mum was totally exhausted and stiff with pain after each cleaning frenzy but now I can see why she is enjoying it. There is a deep satisfaction from seeing the visible improvement around one. We catch each other examining our own work already done with a slightly smug air. There is a momentum developing and I hesitate to say it but we seem to be getting slightly better and try to raise our game with each passing day. There is also the deep satisfaction that this spring clean has got to be the earliest we have ever attempted. For once we feel we have a head start on life, after all it is months and months until spring. The other joyous discoveries are that you don’t need to know the name of something to clean it and we are gradually finding things we thought we lost. “It’s time for a spring cleaning of your thoughts, it’s time to stop to just existing it’s time to start living.” Steve Maraboli

Stuff that works

 There are things that are really difficult. Difficult to start, difficult to do and occasionally impossible to complete. But for every single problem, we encounter there is often somebody out there who has found a way of solving it. And if you want a quick easy shortcut then it obviously pays to examine and learn from those who have mastered it. Everybody comes at life from a different path. Indeed,  they sometimes from a completely different direction and their landscape can look starting different from our own but they may well have learnt something along the way that you haven't. 

One of the beauties of the internet is that we get a chance to benefit from other unique perspectives. We can learn tricks and insights that even if we had a lifetime it would never occur to us to use. So in this posting, I wanted to focus on those surprising things that I have found work. They are a weird assortment and I make no apologies for that. Usually, the solution has been found by typing in my problem on the Internet and doing a Google search. Invariably this has resulted in a list of crazy suggestions tried by others and I usually give some of them a try. Needless to say, there have been many disasters along the way and in this posting, I wanted to highlight the successful ones that actually helped me. I share them in the spirit of someone who has sieved a load of rubbish and found a few nuggets of value worth retaining.

Ironing out defects

The first problem was how to remove water stains from wooden tables. My mother's coffee table was stained because someone placed hot cups on its surface. The white round marks ruined its look and my mother hates imperfections. I came across this video and have used the technique ever since to great success. Whenever a new white ring appears on any wooden surface my mother instructs me to use 'that weird iron technique' to get rid of them. My apologies if it doesn't work for you. I can only say that it has worked every time for me. I'm not responsible if you burn yourself so please take care. But it has worked so often and so well I feel I have to share it with you.  Personally, I find using no steam is better so either empty your iron of all water or turn off that option on your iron.

The medicine for dirty irons

The second trick is iron-related too and needs to be mentioned here at this point probably. What to do when your iron gets really dirty from ironing wood, or burning garments, or becomes sticky with some gunge.  Having tried and watched others using sponges, dishwashing liquid, elbow grease and more dangerously even knives or metal scrubbers on irons I found the answer was paracetamol tablets.  Yes, you read that right.  Not for consumption but to remove the stain.  I know you are questioning my sanity here but having first used this technique doubting it could possibly work I am a convert - it does!  Just make sure steam is off and you don't burn yourself while doing it.

Dancing as therapy

How to make dancing fun.  I am so self-conscious as a dancer that I look embarrassing on a dance floor.   Any audience is enough to trigger my inability to look even vaguely normal.  This is why I am so happy to watch others excel at it.  I am never going to be able to attain success but am settling for watching that it can actually be achieved by others.  Some do manage to excel and I can celebrate that even while failing myself.

Looking out for your neighbour

How to keep your neighbourhood safe.  When visiting a village near Oxford recently, I met an elderly lady who was concerned about all the people who lived on her street during Covid lockdown.  She knew many were quite old like herself, lived alone or had health issues and worried that things could be really difficult under a pandemic.  So she set up a WhatsApp group for every single neighbour on her street.  Then, made sure all were checked in by phone regularly.  When such contact was maintained, much-needed groceries could be delivered, medicines provided and most importantly of all, every single member of the street felt part of a tightly bound concerned community.  Isolation can kill and I was blown away by this small grey-haired lady's single-minded determination that no one would be neglected in difficult days.  It taught me that we may find it impossible to solve the problems of a city or a town or even a village but at a neighbourhood level, individuals can begin to do so much.

Building your own home

I found this obscure video with no talking or conversation that lasts for hours and hours about a guy making his own log cabin in the wilderness.  Thought it was one of those oddities that only I would watch, then had a conversation with my brother and realised he had also got hooked on this strange tale.  Here I share the five-minute speeded up version but if you fancy total relaxation, look for the longer version.

Learning Languages

Easy Trick to speaking French. Apologies for this to all my french friends and relatives but he is just so funny I have to include him. 

https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=189086272405995

Keep your dirty feet out off my mind!

It began with a metallic watch strap. I noticed mine had begun to look tarnished. Even mottled in places. I had worn it every day, everywhere for years. The idea occurred to me to replace the strap as the watch itself works perfectly. Then, one night as I brushed my teeth I wondered if I used a little nailbrush and a bit of soap on the strap would it make a difference? I began cautiously as the watch itself was not waterproof after all. Within a few seconds, I was appalled at the black gunge in the hand basin. I had been wearing the watch for years and it had obviously accumulated all the dirt and grease from my arms and everything I had ever touched. It was disgusting and as I scrubbed and more dirt emerged the original metallic colour of the strap began to be restored. All that time, all that dirt carried by me unknowingly.

It made me think about all the other dirt we unwittingly carry from place to place and people to people without registering. That same evening, I took a long hard look at my sandals. The roads here are dirty. The pavements are even worse with dogs’ poo. I cheated and put them in a basin in hot water and a dishwashing tablet.  Not the way to go as I later discovered.  Apparently, proper cleaning involves baking soda and being placed in a plastic bag in the freezer overnight to kill bacteria. For those who want to know more check this link out.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h6-rbLF_F54

I decided I had a mission it was time I tackled dirty areas of my life. This is but the beginning of the journey!  However, I decided to focus on cleaning one’s own body as a proper place to begin this whole business. Perhaps it is the parts we all ignore that are the places we need to focus on.  

I suspected that the dirtiest part of the foot would be the ankle. But on second thoughts perhaps between the toes. These are damp places and without cleaning could really stink.  Another place that can be forgotten is the bellybutton. How often does that crevice see the light of day? How much fluff and gunge can hide in this tiny cave? A 2012 study found 2,368 species of bacteria nestled into the navel.  Disturbing right?

When I breastfed my first son I was unaware of milk running down behind the back of his ear and drying there. As he didn’t like getting his head wet, in his daily bath, I had taken to just mopping his face and neck quickly with a wet face cloth. Eventually, It was the stench of rotting milk that raised alarm bells. When I pulled back his ear there was a huge curdle of dried milk behind it like crusty old bird poo. I was horrified but it taught me something about cleanliness.  Just because you cannot see the dirt does not mean it is not there.

Another cavity requiring careful cleaning is the bottom. My attention was drawn to this by a tattoo artist. When asked what was his pet hate he responded that those who came in to get a tattoo without washing their asses.  He pointed out that hours of working on an upper thigh, lower back or stomach frequently had him gagging over the smell drifting from an unclean posterior. Obviously, one needs to get to the bottom of things.

Of course, cleaning the exterior is one thing but even interior cavities are sometimes targeted. This can sometimes feel a step too far. However, a mouthwash makes sense, right? In 1AD the Romans used human or animal urine as a mouth wash. Apparently, the urine when stored long enough turns into ammonia which helped freshen the breath and whiten the teeth. Just in case this freaks you out it is also true that one of the most popular mouthwashes Listerine was originally invented for surgical procedures and for cleaning floors.

But, apart from the mouth, messing about with a delicate balance of other inner functioning cavities seems invasive and unnecessary. Spraying chemicals into your orifices may not serve to help their functioning at all and may even disrupt the fauna necessary for good health.  But this business of cleanliness is important in so many other ways other than just the physical aspect.  I suspect our minds are impacted by cleanliness just as much.

Cleanliness and order are not matters of instinct; they are matters of education, and like most great things, you must cultivate a taste for them.

Benjamin Disraeli

I will not let anyone walk through my mind with their dirty feet.

Mahatma Gandhi

That last quote speaks of how important keeping cleanness of mind and spirit is.  I have long suspected that such cleanliness makes for a happy and contented life.  I unexpectedly loved this group of over one-hundred-year-olds because of their optimism and hope.

Being There

There are moments when you’re called upon to undertake some deed. Many times, you may feel overwhelmed by your own inadequacies as you take up your position on the battlefield of life. 

I recall when six months pregnant being summoned to look after a lovely relative who had had a stroke while living in the south of England. Flying from Northern Ireland to the UK I managed to fill all six sick bags across the entire row of seats at the back of the plane.  I’ve never been sure why my pregnant self decided to be so sick. Even during morning sickness, much earlier in the pregnancy, my body had felt nauseous but had refused to regurgitate valuable food. In fact, in all cases of food poisoning in our family, usually the result of a takeaway, my constitution was like that of my dad’s.  While the rest of my sickened family cleared out their systems by one end or the other (i.e. vomiting or diarrhoea), our systems perversely decided our bodies could handle the toxicity and extract some useful nutrition from the poison we had ingested.  To this day I have no idea why my stomach decided on performing like something from The Exorcist but I still remember the horrified expressions of my fellow passengers fighting to provide me with enough bags to contain the huge quantities of carrot coloured lumpy porridge I projected.

I was also well aware of being under-qualified for the task ahead which would involve caring, cooking and moderate housekeeping. I decided to camouflage my deficiencies by faking proficiency in these areas.  This strategy consisted of

1.    Turning the vacuum cleaner on for half an hour a day so that my relative, who was bedridden, would be comforted by the evident housecleaning going on below. I must confess I did not move the vacuum cleaner just turned it on daily, downstairs. In my defence when I started this practice there was a definite improvement in my patient’s demeanour who seemed disproportionately happier and more grateful.

2.     My tasteless meals were presented as being lighter on the stomach and easier to digest. In fact, my farola (finely-milled semolina) pudding dish became a staple favourite as my relative mentioned she had never been served this their entire life. Either that or she was too polite to complain about the food served. Come to think of it that seems much more likely explanation.

3.     My sweet relative knew that other family members around the world were worried to death about her. So, a daily task of mine was writing letters to distant relatives and friends. She would dictate and I would write and subsequently post these missives. She would insist on praising my housekeeping skills, my cooking and my kindness in every letter sent. As she had relatives in almost every continent I felt at times I was undertaking a one-woman self-promotion of sainthood campaign.  At times there I would blush in embarrassment as I wrote my own praises. But even this letter writing seemed to bring the patient pleasure and the avalanche of responses that arrived in the following days and weeks brought welcome messages of love and concern that were sustaining as regular blood transfusions for my patient.

Thankfully she made a full recovery. Eventually, I confessed my vacuuming trick. When she regained mobility, I had to!  She spent the next month trying to tidy and clean her house and find where I had put stuff in her kitchen. These activities I told myself also speeded her long-term recovery.

She was always very grateful and thankful for my presence during her illness and the lesson learned for me was, even when poorly prepared and totally inadequate, just showing up on the battlefield wins you a medal of sorts. Sometimes it’s not about your abilities but about being there for others.  I can look back now and wish I had been more effective and useful but her sweet response to my incompetence taught me so much.  If we stop wasting time thinking about our inadequacies we can probably achieve so much more.

“Let no excessive self-criticism or any feelings of inadequacy, inability or inexperience hinder you …..”

 Riḍván Message 152, Universal House of Justice

Michael deals with dirt and life

Michael Abateo wiped his brow as the sweat pulsated from his pores. He was getting old. He reckoned you leaked more as you age. From one’s bladder, nose and even eyes. He had grown accustomed to the gradual changes in his body. He didn’t complain but hugged the physical pain close to keep other pains away.  Losing his wife Maria had broken him in so many ways.

It was only after she died he realised her happy nature has ever been the sunshine in his life. Of course, she had driven him crazy at times! Her good nature seemed to extend to every passing stray she met. But she had chosen him to love and that still felt like an undeserved blessing, even 50 years later. He couldn’t put into words what she meant to him but now even a year later, her loss felt like a mortal wound.

The children had been great. Loving and supportive despite their own personal loss. During Maria’s illness and funeral, he had been shocked that they had become mature adults and he a devastated child. Every day that passed he was reminded of Maria in all their acts of kindness towards him. When they called at his house there was always a tender look of concern as if to ask, “Are you, alright dad?” Their faces reminded him of Maria and sometimes when they spoke to him he stopped listening to the actual words and just drank in their similarities to Maria. The way they laughed. Full-throated, head thrown back and arms flailing. They seem to use their hands when they talked just like their mother. Turning both hands outwards as if opening two door handles at the same time. He remembered the gesture and it felt like being in her presence for a second again, warm and loved once more. Michael had realised he wasn’t getting over his loss.  He didn’t need anyone to tell him that.

Neighbours had been kindly, he couldn’t complain about anyone. Even Maria’s friends had cooked meals and dropped in to try and cheer him up. He realised how Maltese he was in his ability to have so many people around him and yet feel so truly alone.

These days he’d taken up a service project in Valetta and as he walked rapidly through the steep streets he’d begun to notice the lonely older faces in upstairs windows looking out. Strange how you can live in a place for decades and yet fail to see so much. The project had been his son’s idea. An old palazzo needed weekly cleaning and Michael for some reason had accepted this suggestion when he had rejected so many others.

He actually looked forward to his weekly visits to the empty deserted building. Dust covered the front door and the litter box was ever filled to overflowing with stupid fliers. He liked the silence and the practical tasks, they both soothed him.  Even dumping the fliers felt like a weekly ritual cleanout. He would take a wooden folding chair and place it near the front to prop the big green wooden doors open to help dry the tiles while he cleaned. He’d been startled to find a huge dead red cockroach near the front door lying belly-up in the empty corridor. It must have cooked in the heat, he thought. Although he had spotted it the week before, he hadn’t disposed of it. The big front doors that day had proven difficult to open, so he’d gone to the ironsmith shop close to Saint John’s Cathedral. The owner had explained all the old wooden doors swell up in the summer sun and become stuck.  He explained,

“You have to be careful though, if you sand them down in summer then in the winter you’ll let the rain in!”

Michael had enjoyed the chaos of his shop and their conversation. It was rarer these days to find shopkeepers with time to chat. He’d carefully sanded the door of the palazzo, just a bit, to make it easier to open and so hadn’t had the time to deal with mopping and cleaning. He wasn’t getting paid for his services so he wasn’t unduly worried. When he returned a week later the red coloured cockroach was exactly where he had left it, still lying on its back.

Rather than handle it, Michael decided to use the mop and just wipe it off into the water in his bucket. He’d done the whole of the entrance hall when he noticed movement in the container. The cockroach had come alive! Given that the bucket was full of strong cleaning fluid as well as water, Michael was shocked to find the dead cockroach now clinging to the mop head in his bucket.

He was incredulous at this rejuvenation of a previously dead insect. Unsure how to proceed he decided to shake the mop out through the front door over the metal gate. The cockroach landed on it back on the pavement and Michael forgot about the incident until he’d cleaned the whole lower floor and was ready to head home. He was delighted to find the front door easier to close, following his sanding of the previous week, and as he closed the door he straightened his back and stretched his arms above his head.  It was good to be physically tired from real work.

A movement on the curb drew his attention. It was the red cockroach! A little the worse for wear but sitting the right way up shaking its wings in the sun, loosening up just like Michael. He looked at this fellow creature and remembered it lying seemingly dead to the world. It was saved by immersion in the dirty detergent water. Brought back to life by moisture’s magic. Michael felt a strange surge of optimism. Perhaps it was a sign of hope? Sometimes life leaves you with nothing, hardly a breath, barely a flicker to show the life force within. Unexpected things can bring you back from the edge, even the dregs.

As Michael walked home he began to feel a shadow lifting from his heart. Maria would’ve thrown back her head and laughed with her arms aloft if he’d told her about his encounter with the insect. That made him smile to himself and chuckle.


Previous story about Michael and Maria Abateo from years ago - Maria's kindness