Using the Sh*t You Don't Want to do for Spiritual Growth
Finding Bliss in Poop Duty 💩
The “duty” to clean
The poop-cleaning chronicles started with the adoption of our rescue cat years ago. A sophisticated and clean animal, Clooney mostly took care of himself. The litter would only need to be cleaned once a week, occasionally done by me if I remembered.
The exception was when my wife was pregnant. To avoid potential infection from a dangerous parasite that could cause toxoplasmosis, I was fully responsible for changing the kitty litter. At times squishy, at times smelly, it was hardly ever pleasant. Every week, I grabbed a plastic bag and I scooped the doodoo reluctantly. The only reason I did it, really, is because I had to. It was my so-called duty.
“Duty” is often linked to a sense of obligation that comes from societal expectations or rules. There is nothing inherently wrong or bad about this, and a sense of duty can certainly be useful. However, life is a lot more fun when the reason you do something comes from a place of joy or love, not because you feel like you have to do it. But could I really accept my job here, and even enjoy cleaning up the poop?
The duty becomes tolerable
Next came our dog, Max. Dogs don’t use litter boxes, I learned. We walked Max every morning and every evening. He would poop at least once each outing, occasionally twice, and when his stomach was bothering him, which was often, there would be multiple drops in one walk, oftentimes runny and impossible to actually pick up.
The frequency of poop-cleaning increased exponentially. The cat poop was only 4 times a month, making 44 litter cleanings a year. With a dog, though, it was a minimum of two poops a day, which over one year is 730 poops. Posture is important, and squatting down first with the legs instead of using the back is key to keeping a healthy spine.
In writing this post, my wife reminded me that when I first started to walk our dog, I would complain incessantly about poop. There was a lot of resistance there. Eventually, though, the poop-cleaning became tolerable, largely because of its frequency. After hundreds and thousands of dropping, you get used to the poop and it becomes less gross. You become an expert in the poop, really, and the consistency and hardness and all of that, simply by exposure.
Hedonic adaptation works the opposite way — after winning the lottery your baseline happiness returns after a few months, but likewise after losing a leg, your baseline happiness also returns despite the tragedy. My baseline happiness was, it seems, returning back to normal despite the number of poop cleanings increasing (and, making new dog-walking friends certainly helped).
“Droppings” of enlightenment
And then there was a moment somewhere along the poop journey where I found myself once again resisting my current predicament. It was a cold day, I was tired and hadn’t had any coffee yet, taking Max for a walk. “I am out here at 7 in the morning cleaning some nasty dog poop when I could be…” Realizing that resisting it only caused more suffering, more frustration, more physical tension, I chose to let it go.
There is the saying that “happiness is a choice,” which at first doesn’t make much sense, and can even feel like a mocking statement, somehow poking fun at our less-than-ideal lives. That’s because we believe that happiness comes from the outside. But in this instance, in this very moment, it made perfect sense. The happiness I was looking for was absolutely my choice, and all I had to do was let go of the desire to be somewhere else, or to be doing something else.
This idea, it seems, is the basis of most spiritual traditions. There really isn’t any necessary requirement to go off to a cave or a mountain for 3 years and learn this lesson. There is plenty of shit, quite literally, for you to deal with right here and right now. It sure helps to pick up meditation techniques that teach you how to actually let go, and that can require a bit of alone-time, but the daily stuff — work, relationships, health, dog poop — are incredible opportunities for letting go and spiritual growth.
Epilogue
Eventually, when our baby boy was born, I was no stranger to poop. I had relinquished my idea of “duty” to clean poop and approached the coming wave of diaper changes with enthusiasm. There would be many diaper changes, easily 3-4x the number of poops that our dog takes. But by this stage, I was not just accepting the need to clean up poop, but dare-I-say enjoying it at times. When diapers filled up to the brim, and then out of the brim and onto my hands, I found myself responding in a way that I probably wouldn’t a couple of years back: with a smile.
Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment below and share your poop-cleaning moment with me.
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Loved this article, very creative 🙂 You have provided a great reminder that mindfulness is really to be found in the most mundane, annoying, boring or gross things. Taking the stinky trash out, cleaning up dog vomit, or watering the plants for the thousand's time. That's where the "real" personal work is done.