I have practised sun salutations and tried chanting affirmations. For me, there is no better morning meditation than hanging my laundry on the clothesline. I shunned this practise for years siting pollen allergies and the needless trips up and down the stairs-it was one of those old fashioned things my mother and grandmother engaged in.
The last couple years though I’ve been daydreaming about the line my Grandma had on her farm. It was a pulley type that was strung from her back porch out to a light post in the yard. To my child’s mind, sheets and socks always flew in the sky over the farm yard. She propped the stubborn wooden porch window open with a stick and hung the laundry out the window onto the line. Grandpa’s woolen work socks were stretched out on wooden sock stretchers. Grandma used round headed wooden clothes pegs to secure things to the line.
My daydream set me to craving my own pulley line. My husband and father point out that an act of God is required to install one in my tiny tree filled city lot. Hanging your clothes out is a trendy, greenish thing to do- it seems a pity to knock down a tree over it. I have installed this pathetic little reel line, a “now you have it- now you don’t” solution that seems to betray my commitment to my morning meditation practise.
Though the line sags and stretches, it works all the same. I wake, my feet hit the floor and I make my way to the wet laundry. Outdoors in my plastic flip flops, I’m free from the kids minute by minute demands. Sure they rap on the window but I don the smile of a mad woman and wave sweetly at them. As though they are waving hello instead of pecking out demands for drinks and their favourite t-shirts. The kids won’t come near the clothesline, they have excuses of their own 🙂 The grass is wet, there are bugs and spiders and cool morning breezes. They’ll figure out some day, I did.