What My Landlord Saw That I Couldn't

Have you ever felt a little ashamed of what you've found in the cleaning process?

I have.

As I wrote some time ago, I've been decluttering and cleaning my home because I'll be moving to a smaller place at the end of the month.

I've found a Lululemon top in the "wrong" colour tucked away at the back of the wardrobe. Half-used lipsticks from years ago. Bottles of things I no longer need.

I've noticed that there's simply too much stuff. And I've had to acknowledge that I haven't always made the most environmentally friendly choices when it comes to buying—or not buying.

Still, I've always thought my home was lovely.

Cozy. Comfortable. A little artistic.

Nothing fancy, but nice.

So when my landlord asked if he could show the apartment to a potential new tenant on short notice while I was out, I happily agreed.

I was quite certain they'd be delighted.

Considering the number of polite messages he sent before entering my sanctuary, I was slightly surprised when the only follow-up message I received was:

"Now gone."

The next day, however, I received a very detailed email listing everything that should be cleaned properly before handing over the keys.

Reading through it, I realised there was a lot to do.

And, if I'm honest, I was slightly annoyed.

I won't bore you with the details, but his email had me reflecting on my way of living for the rest of the day.

And I realised something:

In comfort and coziness, blind spots thrive.

Not because we're lazy or careless. Simply because we stop seeing what's always there.

I'm still going to keep my home as a place for living, not as a showroom for cleaning.

And in practice, I still believe that enjoying the practice is the most important reason we keep returning to the mat.

But I was struck by the fact that other people could immediately see the stubborn corn stains in my cozy haven.

Stains I had stopped noticing long ago.

The same thing happens in practice.

We don't always recognise our own patterns.

And when we can't see them, we often keep maintaining them—or even strengthening them.

Goddammit.

The sink still needs a good scrub.

And sometimes so do our habits.

If you'd like to stay in touch, I send occasional notes on yoga, life and the messy middle straight to your inbox.

Sign up →