On my way home from Pennsylvania last week, I stopped at Tom and Rod’s snug little cabin, sweetly nested in the woods of West Virginia. The woods are wild and yet, it was clear this wildness had been attended to. The ground was clearly being cared for.
Inside the cabin were many antique objects, all of them with a story. The tiny kitchen was brimming with dishes, vintage and handmade; every corner was occupied. And, instead of it feeling oppressively full, it felt like an embrace. Standing there, I felt encircled by all those beautiful stories, all that love. The reason it felt like this, I think, is because the objects were not placed and forgotten. It was apparent that they too were being attended to.
This has changed how I clean (attend to my things). There’s a huge difference between cleaning as a chore, a task that is only being done to get to the end of it and caring for this object, tending to it with respect. It has shifted cleaning from a chore to an act of love.
I see a cleaner (more loved) house in my future.