Lying in bed last night around 11 p.m., just after reading Larry Woiwode's A Step From Death memoir, I was jolted out of my incipient, albeit typically restless, slumber.
The dishes were lying in the sink and on the counter, not a lot of them, but, still, the remains of the day, more accurately the evening, the detritus of plates and bowls and silverware; a small frying pan; some glassware and cups.
What will this do to my vow of never waking up again to dishes from the night before?
I decided to let it be, not to arouse from the bed and disturb the universe.
I decided the point was to observe, to see, to learn; that the point wasn't the dishes themselves. The point was me (or the lack of me).
Remember what Robert Pirsig said in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance? Something like, "The motorcycle you are working on is yourself."
I did them today.
Pleasure, in fact.