I love cleaning my flat
I love the ritual
I love the way it looks afterwards ( not that much different really!)
But it has a spick and span feel
A happy flat feel
It’s a quiet time
An on my own time
A simple time, easy rhythms
A cleaning meditation.
As I write I am reminded of Andrés… In another life, ‘this time last year’ – I had an office in Piccadilly.
I used to run to and from work… Having trodden the world as a nomad for six years with all I could carry in a rucksack on my back – on landing in London, I soon realised that a daily commute on the tube would be ‘vexatious to my spirit’ – and so I took to the open roads – my legs my means of transport.
Four miles there and four miles back – I often ran /walked, because sometimes when I emerged into the street later in the evening, the thought of the tube was almost more appealing – but I would walk up the road and then find myself trotting and then I was home…
To often meet Anadi ( the boyfriend/husband) for a drink in the pub next door
In this other life this time last year…
And because I often worked quite late, seeing clients in the evening, I was the last person in the building except for Andrés… A young man boy who was cleaning the offices and communal areas…
I would find him emptying bins, washing up all the used plates and cups that had been piled high – right underneath the polite notice that requested everything used be washed up.
Andrés was from Argentina and I soon discovered spoke only a very few words of English.
I looked forward to seeing Andrés before I left, I’d stay awhile and learn about him – and practise my Spanish too…
And then came that day at the end of March 2020 to collect my coffee machine – and head for home…
I didn’t know then that I wouldn’t go back to work there
That I would only return to collect my throws and my books
But I left Andrés a card of thanks anyway, and popped £10 inside
When I returned to collect the throws and books a couple of months later, the card was gone, and I found a piece of paper in its place
Until I started to write today, I hadn’t thought of Andrés since
He is gone
I am gone
Its like we never existed to the other
Except our unchanging nature
From whence we were all born
And so each encounter, each experience is vital to our existence, to the meaning of our existence
To being human – on this spiritual journey – every encounter an opportunity to encounter love looking back at us from another human being.
And each encounter that might hold a sting in its tail, pain and heartbreak is a chance to see where we have cut that love off from inside us
And slowly and surely we can shed everything preventing us from experiencing who we truly are.
And so Andrés and I touched each others lives for just eight short weeks
My office was moved from Covent Garden to Piccadilly on January 26th and I left there on March 20th
But we saw ourselves in each other’s eyes and although I had completely forgotten about him until now
His soul and mine danced together briefly then and that energy stays forever