Againandagain

I wipe the stove down and then I wipe the stove down right before I wipe the stove down again.

I run my sponge along the pan and then run my sponge along the pan right before running my sponge along the pan again.

I fold a shirt before folding a shirt and then I fold another shirt. I do this while wearing a shirt I will then proceed to wash and fold.

How could such a mess ever be clean, the mess I make by LIVING?

The endless tasks are endless on every fractal, repetitive on every fractal, the procession toward order never ceases, and chaos lurks always at the fringe.

Washing the pan is a process of going over and over it again.

Cleaning the stove is a process of going over and over it again.

Folding the laundry is a process of shaping motion and textile again and again.

Scouring our inner landscape is a process of going over and over it again.

We have the opportunity to resent what this process takes.

We also have the opportunity to accept that this is the process, and there is no alternative to process, there is only which process we choose and how we be in that here and now.