By PAT LUKACS

Pulling into my usual parking spot, the one farthest from the Swan Motel and closest to the familiar wooden gate, I awkwardly dislodge my arthritic right hip to get out of the car, limp through the side gate, and clamber up the steps to the back door of the Meditation Building. By now, my right leg is stretched out, my hip is behaving a little better, and I’m feeling more physically

 grounded. At the door, my inner equilibrium begins to catch up with my physical stability.

I pause, remembering to breathe, soothe and center myself with the gatha, “I am home. I have arrived.”

Each morning of housekeeping selfless service at FCM is made meaningful and

Pat Lukacs, left, with

co-leader Eleanor Cecil

enjoyable for me because of these pauses, these transitional moments that I’ve come to identify as a type of spiritual punctuation. As a retired English teacher, I’m weirdly aware of punctuation--not just the visual type that we use to signal pauses and inflection in writing--but also the many “figurative” or spiritual forms that can serve the same purpose in the rhythms of everyday thought and action. 

The pause that seems so accessible while I’m “home” at FCM, easily eludes me elsewhere. Despite my efforts to remain focused and deliberate off the FCM campus, the day’s thoughts and events often rush by with no space or transitional moments between them. In contrast, while housekeeping at FCM, I move effortlessly in a peaceful rhythm from one task to the next marked by pauses that seem to elevate me beyond an aging body, disintegrating joints, and a distracted mind. The habitual tension and hurriedness, the jerky awkwardness that are frequent companions when I clean my own house are missing at FCM when my housekeeping is punctuated by transitional moments. 

I usually begin by collecting trash and recycling, first from the Meditation Hall, then from the Education Building, and finally from Great Cloud Refuge. As I leave each building, I offer a surreptitious bow in recognition of the sacred purpose of the physical space and also in gratitude for the role this building has played over the years in nurturing my own practice.

As I move to another task, whether vacuuming entrances and foyers or scrubbing toilets and sinks, I punctuate. The breaks between tasks provide full stops. In these pauses, I'm able to gently release my conditioned response, the habitual drive to complete tasks as thoroughly and efficiently as possible.

I can replace the race with "good enough," with relaxed appreciation and gratitude. There are serene gaps, brief pauses often repeated at even intervals, not only between tasks, but also within tasks.  Wiping up the window, “I love to clean and scrub;” wiping down tday my heart and mind grow clearer.”

Cleaning completed, I return to my self-assigned parking spot, curious to see if maybe I actually can—by silencing the chatter of self-imposed limits--find and savor these marks of spiritual punctuation, these pauses at transitional moments throughout the rest of the day.

Pat Lukacs has been a member of FCM for about 10 years.  She is an ordained member of the Order of Interbeing, is co-leader with Eleanor Cecil of  the Housekeeping Team, and lives in Seminole Heights, where she cohabitates with two geriatric dogs.