Growing up I always hated cleaning my room. As a child, I don’t think it was laziness exactly, but there was freedom I experienced having my toys strewn about and leaving a trail of winter clothes on the path toward my bedroom. At first, my parents tried to reason with me to keep a clean and organized play area. Often suggesting that I couldn’t find my favorite toys in such a mess, but when quizzed, and to their dismay, I always proved them wrong. My parents quickly abandoned the “carrot for the stick.” However, the creative punishments they tried had no effect. As I got older, they succeeded by paying me a weekly allowance to keep my room clean and that worked somewhat; however, I took every opportunity to mess up my room when they weren’t paying attention. In short, cleaning for me in my youth was a quid pro quo and a task lacking any enjoyment or benefit.
At fifteen years old, I started working in a restaurant and it was there that I was introduced to a different concept regarding cleaning. For a cook, cleaning was a requirement and demonstrated an individual’s level of skill. The mantra running a professional European kitchen is “Clean as you Go,” and working with cleanliness and keeping a clean uniform was a sign of ability. Older cooks would mock their juniors for having dirty aprons and that wasn’t something my ego could handle, so I begrudgingly learned to maintain cleanliness to a high degree. My tidy and professional cooking skills were quickly noticed and so I promptly moved up in the kitchen ranks of my culinary employment.
During my work, I quickly discovered that there was a “loophole” that I could exploit to stop having to be so diligent with my never-ending cleaning. You see, I observed that the Chef of a restaurant never cleaned up after himself! To be Chef meant that other people were there to do all the things you didn’t want to do. With newfound motivation, I moved towards that goal as quickly as possible and was a Chef in my own right by 21 years old. Being in the role of Chef now meant people ran around making sure all was taken care of, and I once again felt the freedom I loved as a youth: It was great.
Working as a chef and at a young age was very demanding, and so I’d often go to the Zen Center to join in morning meditation to have a moment of calm and grounding in my overly stressful existence. Since my culinary skills were known by the sangha, I was always put in the kitchen to help prepare food and it was there that I learned my most important lesson around cleaning.
In Buddhist monasteries in Japan, cleaning holds profound significance. Osoji, or “cleaning practice,” involves meticulously tidying spaces with the utmost care and attention. With roots all the back to the Heian period (794 – 1185) osoji emerged from the traditional Japanese custom of cleaning before the New Year. This ancient custom involved sweeping and cleaning the house thoroughly to remove the soot and dirt accumulated throughout the year, symbolizing the removal of impurities, and welcoming the new year with a fresh start. This practice is deeply rooted in Japanese culture and is still observed by many households today. In the Tendai tradition, through cleaning, practitioners cultivate mindfulness in action, bringing awareness to every movement. This practice instills discipline, humility, and reverence for one’s environment. By purifying external spaces, one purifies the mind, fostering clarity and equanimity. Osoji symbolizes the principle of non-attachment, as practitioners engage in the act of cleaning without clinging to preferences or aversions.
As a clear example of this, I’d like to share the story of Cudapanthaka, a humble disciple of the Buddha. Cudapanthaka’s name translates to “Rice-Cake Beggar” reflecting his humble origins. According to Buddhist scriptures, he was born into a poor family in the ancient kingdom of Magadha and raised with an older brother praised by the sangha for his esteemed intellect. Cudapanthaka constantly faced the disheartening rejection of his older, more accomplished brother, and feeling crushed by his sibling’s words, Cudapanthaka wept in sorrow. Sensing his distress, the Buddha compassionately approached him. He handed Cudapanthaka a broom and imparted simple yet profound advice: “Clean the dust, purify the mind.”
Taking the broom, Cudapanthaka diligently followed the Buddha’s instruction. With each sweep, he recited the words, focusing his mind on the dual task of physical cleaning and mental purification. As he meticulously cleaned every nook and crevice, he found solace and serenity in the rhythmic repetition of the phrase.
Through the mundane act of cleaning, Cudapanthaka discovered a pathway to inner peace and enlightenment. The physical labor became a metaphor for the purification of his troubled mind. With each stroke of the broom, he let go of his burdens, allowing clarity and tranquility to replace his inner turmoil. In time, as Cudapanthaka immersed himself fully in the practice of cleaning and recitation, a profound transformation occurred within him. The once troubled disciple found enlightenment, his mind purified by the simplicity and devotion of his actions.
When my mind opened to this new modality practiced at the Zen Center, I quickly began putting these ideas around cleaning into my professional kitchen as well. Over time, I moved from the ego-driven chef who enjoyed having everyone cleaning for me to someone who embodied, “Clean the kitchen, purify the mind.” Looking back to my youth, what I realize is that all my loving parents wanted to do with their admonitions to keep my room clean was to plant those seeds in my life while I was at a young age.
Though I still have far to go to reach the heights of Cudapanthaka, his story serves as a testament to the power of mindfulness, dedication, and most importantly non-attachment, that we all travel on our path to enlightenment. Through the humble act of cleaning, he transcended his suffering and discovered the boundless depths of inner peace. Whenever we are cleaning our spaces, I hope each of us might take inspiration from Cudapanthaka and his example. Perhaps if a “Rice-Cake Beggar” can reach enlightenment, maybe then we also share that chance.