Dishes

Lately I have felt a bit frantic about existing as a waste of creativity. I will not garble away, divulging my fears and anxieties now. If I were to garble, however, I would do so about my fear of wasting away my time and potential.

I occasionally go through bouts of anxiety about such things and question the value of everything I may be doing in the moment. Work, desires, books, blah, blah, blah. While I have currently given over my anxieties to the One who deals with such things best, the healthy concern for properly allocating my time/gifts to their fullest capacities remains.

Amongst other things today, I washed the dishes. It was really nice. There is a certain sacredness about washing dishes or cleaning in general. I have been tempted to feel as if I am wasting time doing so, but there is a certain beauty and value in the act of cleaning. It has become a sacred ritual for me, symbolizing the destruction of filth and mire, which renders useful things, like dishes (or hearts), useless.