🧹 Clean Like a Monk — Or Curse Like My Mother

Some time ago, I received a book about enlightenment.
Not the first I’ve read, of course — enlightenment is one of those things that shows up in our lives like an uninvited guest, pretending we’ve been expecting it.

This one was called Clean Like a Monk.
It claimed that by cleaning your home with awareness — scrubbing, folding, polishing — you could reach selflessness.
Apparently, the path to transcendence goes right through the laundry room.

It was fascinating, truly.
But halfway through, I caught myself wondering: is this enlightenment also available for women?

Because if cleaning leads to selflessness, then women should have been saints by now.
We’ve spent centuries wiping, washing, arranging, serving — not in monasteries, but in kitchens and living rooms.
Our enlightenment should be glowing from every spotless sink.

Except, it doesn’t work that way.

You see, by the time we’re told to “lose the self,” most of us women already have.
We lost it somewhere between the unpaid chores, the invisible care work, and the quiet endurance that never made it into any holy book.

So maybe — just maybe — what women need isn’t less self.
Maybe we need more self to even begin that journey toward something higher.

My mother was one of those women.
She spent her whole life cleaning, cooking, caring — all the things enlightenment books romanticize.
And she was calm, kind, and selfless. But not because she erased herself.

💡 She overcame her selflessness — in secret.
How?
By knitting curses into my father’s hat.
He wore it proudly, never knowing that each row was a small rebellion,
each purl a whisper of her own joy.

That was her enlightenment — not surrender, not silence, but the quiet pleasure of reclaiming a little power, one stitch at a time.

Sometimes I think I should write a book too.
Not Clean Like a Monk,
but maybe Curse Like My Mother.
A guide on how craft, laughter, and a bit of mischief
can lead to the kind of self-confidence
that feels a lot like enlightenment —
but smells more like wool than incense.

And if you’ve ever felt that cleaning didn’t quite bring you enlightenment either,
maybe it’s time to try a different kind of meditation.

I’m starting a small project called “Coding Enlightenment” —
where we knit our thoughts, stories, and quiet rebellions into thread.
Every stitch carries a message.
Every piece is a little code of light, humor, and selfhood.

If you’d like to join me, bring your yarn, your curiosity,
and maybe one secret sentence you’d love to hide in plain sight.

🧶 Let’s code enlightenment — one stitch at a time.