One More Cleaning Analogy and Then I'll Stop

I was walking home yesterday after a few hours of writing at a coffee shop while my husband Brian watched the kids.  Instead of feeling satisfied and grateful that I got to write, I was feeling restless and unsatisfied about what I didn't get done.  

My restlessness reminded me of something I used to appreciate at the Zen retreats that I used to attend.  At the retreats, there was always a daily period of mindful work, called samu ryo.  It lasted for about an hour, if I remember right--maybe less.  Everyone pitched in to sweep, dust, clean bathrooms, and so on.  Five minutes before the end of the period, a loud knock on a han, a flat slab of wood used as a kind of ceremonial drum, signaled that it was time to start wrapping up your task and putting your tools away.  Another knock on the han signaled it was time to come back to your meditation cushion.  Even if you weren't finished with your chore, you stopped at that point.  You moved on.

I loved that.  I loved that you did as much as you could, as attentively as possible, and that was enough.  What you had gotten done was of value, it was a step toward a cleaner, more organized Zen center, even if you hadn't done EVERYTHING.  

I would like to work toward taking that approach to my own work.  I would like to work toward appreciating what my family and I actually manage to do, who we actually are, instead of letting my fantasies about what we should be able to do and be get in the way quite so much.