秩序之痛

Today, I cleaned the place in my house that had remained untouched for the longest time. The work, which began right after I prepared and finished a meal, only came to an end as evening fell. One of the spots I tackled was a cupboard left uncleaned for ages. It was a place I had actively avoided touching due to various stains and sticky contaminants. Though I had no idea when that filth had accumulated, I had allowed it to sit in neglect; during my recent cleaning streak, however, I cleared it all out completely.

The dirty cupboard and the grease-stained items inside were scrubbed with vinegar, baking soda, and citric acid until they shone. They were washed so thoroughly that they emitted a squeaky-clean sound that detergent alone could never produce. While I was at it, I also cleaned the space behind the refrigerator. Moving the refrigerator is required for that task, so I have only done it very rarely—perhaps once a year—and today was that day. Although it wasn't severely dirty, clearing out that space behind the refrigerator meant that, effectively, absolutely nothing left to clean remained in the entire house.

While cleaning in that manner, a sudden thought crossed my mind. It was the image of my father. My father is a man who repairs every single corner of our quite spacious family home in the countryside and organizes it to near perfection. Given the rural setting, mice might find their way in, insects might appear, and because there is a vegetable garden, dirt or filth created by wild animals is bound to occur. Despite all this, the house is always pristine. The house remains clean not because my father neglected its maintenance out of disgust or avoidance for specific dirty parts, but because he rendered every single defiled portion absolutely clean whenever it appeared. In other words, my father was a man who possessed complete ownership over the house. Because he was thoroughly managing it, because he was thoroughly ruling over it, no filth could ever accumulate, and every part remained pristine.

In contrast, I had failed to do so. Even while living in my home, I failed to control certain parts of it. As a result, the filth seemed to have steadily expanded its territory. There was a time in my past when I was mentally profoundly exhausted, during which I spent a considerable period without cleaning anything at all. That was likely the era when I left my house in the absolute filthiest state of my life.

At that time, I could not control myself, I could not control the surrounding environment encompassing me, and I could not control even the very space where I resided. My mental state was vividly projected onto the place I inhabited. From the outside, it looked passable enough to live in, but the internal reality was an absolute shambles.

The journey toward finding order may not be entirely pleasant while it lasts, but its conclusion is immensely peaceful. Falling into a comfortable sleep in a clean space, in a place without a single speck of dust, might be a luxury that some enjoy only at a hotel; however, for someone who completely manages their space, it is a luxury that can be savored every single day.

The tranquility and freedom granted after suffering feel closer to a long-lasting sense of happiness. Conversely, the pleasure derived from easily acquired stimuli drags along a long, suffocating pain in its wake.

It aligned precisely with the teachings of Buddhism. The suffering for the sake of order, undertaken consciously—it did not yield pain; rather, it granted freedom. On the other hand, the things done consciously merely to extract pleasure were akin to incurring a debt. In exchange for that easily obtained pleasure, one is stripped of joy, with the principal and interest compounded. It leaves one's delight in life, the strength to overcome existence, and the peace of mind utterly wrung dry.

Though I spent my time cleaning and cooking meals day by day in this manner, ironically, I was capable of accomplishing more work than ever before. For the plans regarding the next objective that I have pursued over the past few weeks, the primary requirement was not rushing into the work blindly. If one must travel a long distance, one must prepare healthily, calmly, and patiently, ensuring that the journey can be executed in one's absolute best form. This is not taking a detour; it is the work of laying a rock-solid foundation. The suffering for order. The joy derived from order. This time, unlike before, I wish to proceed slowly and heavily. To achieve that, the current suffering was not bad at all.