I don’t like cleaning.
At least, not as much as my mother and sister do.
I wish I was one of those people who cleaned with they were stressed. Who, after a long day of toddler tantrums and client loads, pick up a scrub brush and a bottle of vinegar and find solace in ridding corners of their silverware drawer of crumbs and stickies and all the thing that accumulate.
I am not one of these people.
My mother’s home is filled with nothing but gleaming surfaces and perfectly dusted decor. In the bathroom hangs a decorative towel that says, “I cleaned the house yesterday, sorry you missed it.” I’ve always thought the sign was so ironic, given how clean her house is every day.
My mom and sister love to clean. They get excited about mops and microfiber cloths and Swedish dish towels lined with silver. They gift each other these products and rave over how easy they make cleaning everything, as if it being easier makes it somehow more enjoyable.
I receive these gifts, too. The cloths. I can’t ever quite tell if my mother and sister simply don’t want me to feel left out, or if all the cheerful excitement is a way to encourage me to clean as often and as well as they do.
I don’t like cleaning, but I love a clean house. I love a clean house like a love a clean body, and most of all, like I love a clean auric field. Watching someone’s energy sparkle and gleam just after they’ve cleared their blockages and emerge shining and fully themselves in the world – it’s nothing short of awe-inspiring.
Which is why I stopped cleaning my house.
You see, you don’t clean an aura with chemicals and dish rags. You don’t scrub and scrape off gunk. Instead, you acknowledge and invite the truth of a person’s spirit to shine forth, to help them push out the gunk just by taking up the space that is only theirs to own.
I’ve stopped cleaning my house. I’ve started blessing it instead.
Blessing my house means that I’m helping the soul of my home shine through. I’m helping to remove the dust and the grime because we – my house and I – have a relationship. We are stewards of one-another. My home keeps me safe, comfortable and warm. I keep my home cared for in the manner to which it deserves.
You see, cleaning never made much sense to me until I saw it through my lens of animism. My home has a soul, and that soul should be honored. And so I don’t clean my home. I bless it instead.
It is not difficult to bless your home. You don’t have to use fancy equipment or silver flocked dish rags. All you need is intention and time.
I carry a caddy containing a few blue sponges, a rag, a microfiber cloth (thanks, Mom!), Bon Ami, a mixture of vinegar, water and essential oils, and a scrub brush. I keep toilet brushes next to each toilet. Then I proceed.
I don’t clean. I bless.
I bless the toilet for catching my waste. I bless the sink for keeping me fresh. I bless the countertops that hold our needs. I bless the floors for supporting us. I bless the couch for providing comfort. I wipe, and I scrub, and with each movement, I bless.
Sure, you can use sage and perform a smoke cleansing. You can place crystals in corners and pennies in thresholds. These are all good things.
You can also build a relationship with the soul of your home with each stroke of the dust rag, the mop, the vacuum and brush.
Stop cleaning your home. Start blessing it.