In praise of ironing

and other meditative practises! I do realise that I am swimming somewhat against the tide, for ironing is not a popular activity. But in my view, many folks are too eager to dismiss ironing as a bad thing.
Several of my friends claim they never do iron anything. I have to admit, (and in doing so am aware of repeating myself) that they look completely ok, not crumpled or anything...

However, over and above the physical activity of decrumpling, folding and generally speaking "neatening" stuff, ironing can (and ought to!) be seen as a therapeutic and spiritual activity.

Therapeutic, first of all, in my case, because of the weakness in my lungs: breathing in hot and slightly steamy air, for a period of time, wonderfully soothes the old bronchi (spelling checked on dictionary.com, by the way, thanks Paul for putting it in my favourites). Staying still also has a good effect on asthma (see above re spelling!), and so, the breathing settles down magically while I am sitting at the press, or standing at the table. For so keen am I, that I have two tools for ironing, depending on the type of garment...Can't be helped: it's genetic! Mémé Poux, my maternal grand' mother was a "lingère" for a rich Lyonnais family, in the 20's: her job consisted solely in looking after that family's linen! Not even their clothes, just the household linen. It needed to be starched, invisibly darned, and organised in impressive piles, where each item was aligned to the exact millimeter with the one above and the one below. There were regular stock takes...in case an unscrupulous or careless maid stole or damaged a valuable piece of the precious trousseau. This proud job led my grandmother to a lifetime kind of passion about linen. And to a smaller extent, I seem to have inherited it...
No bad thing, as you will see! Because....number two:

Ironing is perfect for meditating. Here is the recipe: put on some classical music (classic FM usually does the trick), or some chilling out music. Give yourself a certain time limit. This is very important, as on no account must ironing become a chore! I think 45 minutes is a good time, but sometimes even 30 minutes will be enough...and then start letting your mind go...with the aim to send good feelings (bhavna in Hindi) and good thoughts to everyone you think about during that time...
So for instance this morning, here is the list of those I sent good thoughts to:
Peter, my ex-husband, and Paul's dad, who is just about to go to Cannes to present Red Mercury, the latest film he produced.
His associates, Mike and Farouk, whom I know from the old days.
Paul, several times, as he came to mind more than once.
Dave, several times for the same reason.
Danièle, even though I had a really awful dream about her, (not her fault, obviously, but still...)
Françoise who is at work,dealing with people with very difficult problems.
Easton, who is at work dealing with people with very difficult problems.
Barbara, my lovely neighbour who helps me a lot.
Ken, my good friend who has his own challenges.
The chaps from the music group: individually and collectively (My word: we WERE good last night!)
The memory of my gran and of my mum...ever present whilst ironing.
my dad, who sent me a fascinating article about the twirling dervishes and their mystical practices.
My brother, Thomas, who has hurt his back, and whom I hope to see next week.
My Alain, who is hard at work in spite of being ill with left over 'flu.

and on it goes... Sarah, Edward, Julian...
Torfeida, all the way in Australia, serious and encouraging. A university student, now!
Nikki who phoned to ask about cooking quinoa...
Huseyfe, my new e-mail pen pal...
Can you see how many good thoughts can be generated by an ironing kind of mind?

It's a dance of love, a rainbow of kindness, a sweet jar of goodness.

Now do you understand why I love ironing?

If your name is not on the list...it could be because I don't know you...or it could be because I forgot to mention it...But it will not be because I don't wish you well. Promised!

Jocelyne

PS See! I forgot to mention my sister Annie , (who won't talk to me or to our dad, or to our brother, or to any of this side of the family...I don't really understand why). And her daughter, my niece, Julie, who has her own challenges and struggles with various mental health issues. Special Bhavna for them!