“Wabi-sabi, wabi-sabi,” I chanted to myself as I stepped into the
shower. It had been three days since I
had been able to bathe, and the water wasn’t hot enough to cleanse me of the
build-up of germs and grime. I tried turning
the faucet so the temperature would rise, but apparently it was as hot as it
would get that morning.
It was sometime around five, an hour, pre-motherhood, I used to consider
the middle of the night. I chided myself
for the jealousy I harbored for my still-sleeping husband. Once again, I spoke aloud the words “wabi-sabi.” Reminding myself of the Japanese art form
that embraces imperfection helped me relax amidst the streaky bathroom mirror
and the toothpaste gobs left in the sink.
I tried ignoring the dirty clothes on the floor, some of them,
shamefully, were left there from the weekend.
Even more appalling, some of them belonged to me.
I sighed deeply. Optimistic by
nature, it was unusual for me to feel this defeated before sunrise. I tried remembering all the great mommy blogs
I had read recently. They were writings
that focused on clever quips similar to, “Please excuse the mess. We are busy
making memories.” I negotiated with
myself that no judgment would fall if my house was not perfect. I am, after all, a mother of two young
children, and a babysitter of eight regulars.
As if tending to ten children wasn’t enough, I am responsible for
encouraging my husband, supporting my friends, serving my church, and reaching
out to my community. Did I mention I’m also trying to lose one hundred pounds
and launch a writing career? To-do lists
ran through my mind and my heart’s rhythm picked up pace.
“Wabi-sabi.” I found it necessary to speak the phrase out loud. My panicked thoughts were taking over my
mind, so with that soothing verbal reminder, images of the famous Japanese
artwork, asymmetrical gardens and cracked pottery popped into my head. What had my life become? Was I so overwhelmed, overscheduled, and
exhausted that I was now counting on cracked pots to offer me solace?
All at once, I burst into teary laughter.
The not-hot-enough water filled up my mouth. I swished the water around for a second, and
when I spit it out, I sent my bad attitude with it. Against all odds, I would make it through
this day. I would step over toys, scrape
toothpaste off the sink with the nail of my pointer finger, maybe even do a
load of laundry. Armed with the hope of
wabi-sabi, I would remember this crazy life, even with its many imperfections,
truly is beautiful.
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