Zen And The Art Of Cleaning Windows
an essay by Keith Hutchinson
To have window cleaning as your life's career is to be intimate with all things. It's to be ever
changing and fluid. It's to see the world from many perspectives. It's to look deeply into the most minute
detail and see it as the whole world and the sole reason for leaving your warm bed and setting off into the
still dark morning. It's being disciplined, kind and thoughtful, even in the worst of weather. It's to make
impermanence into a dear friend. Most of all, being a window cleaner is having an unbreakable bond with
yourself by valuing your doubts, trusting your intuition and nurturing your uncertainties. Without
discrimination, the glass will reflect back your skill, your love, your patience, and your insecurities.
Before the cleaning even begins, there are unsaid expectations for your conduct. So treating every
aspect of the experience as the most important part has been my trick for avoiding discrepancies between
my expectations and the client’s in the homes I visit. The invisible and changing force of their
expectations is what you’re really up against. So nothing gets overlooked. Answering the phone the first
time a client calls. Assuring them that I can help them with the problem they are having. Showing up on
time. Not blocking their car in the garage. If it's too early to ring the doorbell, I just knock softly.
Matching the energy they bring. Remembering the dog's name. Minding the flowers. Taking a picture of
the furniture placement to slide it back in its place. Tip toeing around their Zoom call. Most of the time, a
job well done has little to do with how clean the windows are. Yes, the glass is clean, but how was the
experience? If it could only be that easy. Only after getting to know a client do you learn their curriculum
and what aspects you are to be graded on. That's when you can really play to their idea of a job well done.
It takes a subtle read to know what the client really wants, even if they don’t. It’s not as adversarial as it
may seem — I truly do want to make people as happy as I can. Being a guest in someone's home requires
vulnerability by being warm, open, honest, and expressing your genuine desire to be there. You really do
meet the most fascinating people.
Mechanically, cleaning a window is something that anyone can do, and do well, but not something
that can be done perfectly. Myself included. Every person has their own idea of what “clean” really is. It
could be having the windowsills wiped clean, the spider webs taken down, the frames dusted, the screens
washed, the dead flies knocked from the rafters, or even the illusion of the glass being removed from the
house. But the criteria changes from house to house and learning to cater to the individual’s "close
enough" is a favour done for all parties. Perfect cannot be attained though. Perfectly clean does not exist.
Germs may still be present or dust may have been squished into the edges that a towel can’t wipe. I can
give my 100% effort, but I can never complete a 100% job. Perfect is the north star you walk towards for
guidance but never actually reach. There is no certainty; only close enough. No soiled or immaculate, yet
both soiled and immaculate, and we find the ever-changing middle way and hope for its approval.
The formal service of cleaning someone's glass is navigating the client’s needs but with that aside,
the actual cleaning process is working with the Way of the water. The visual of someone washing a
window is very beautiful. You could be having an all-out war with yourself, but to others you may as well
be sitting silently on your cushion. It's graceful. Rhythmic. Silent. Focused. It brings calmness.
Intertwined in a dance with the water you must match its movement if you wish for it to be your partner.
Using a T-shaped mop handle called a strip washer, you make wide sweeping motions. Looking deeply,
you make sure every inch, every pane, in every location, at every elevation is treated with the utmost care.
All the dirt, BBQ oil, dog nose prints, pollen, bug waste, and webs are very securely attached to the glass.
They cannot be just wiped away, but can be moved into the water. Nothing is destroyed, only relocated.
You continue your dance with the water by means of a squeegee. Where water meets gravity, you gently
direct the water downward and wipe the edges dry. Too much water can make a mess in a house and can
be caught by the wind and land on clean glass. Too little scrubbing and there will still be dirt left behind.
Move the squeegee too fast and it can skip over parts leaving smears and a wet mess. Move the squeegee
too slowly and the sun will dry the glass before you can get to it, leaving streaks in its wake. All easy
problems to fix, but it's best to treat the water the way it wishes to be treated. It will not bend to your
callousness, your impatience, or the changing seasons. The dance does not end when the window is clean.
You keep that fluid flow with you as you move around the building, as you glide up and down the ladder,
as you mindfully eat your lunch. There is wisdom in the water and you are there for each other's benefit.
It's a relationship where the water becomes like the cleaner, and the cleaner becomes like the water.
Your personal comfort around being up a 32-foot/10-metre ladder for multiple hours a day changes
from year to year. It's inherently very dangerous and your body and mind demand that you know that.
With time, you slowly learn to embrace those warning signs, but eventually you will go days without your
conscious mind even recognizing them. Your subconscious mind continues to keep working towards your
safety though, gently guiding your intuitions. You would think the largest risk to a window cleaner's
safety is falling off a ladder. In all actuality, it's getting into a car accident going from job to job, followed
by rolling your ankle or being swarmed by wasps. Relying on your intuition is a skill that takes years to
develop. It's a relationship you grow with yourself. It's offering tea to your worst case hypothetical and
letting them stay as long as they wish. It interrupts your autopilot when you are having a regular cloudy
morning and brings your attention to the uneven ground, the wet deck, the buzzing from the soffit or the
frost on the roof. All your insecurities deserve a comfortable chair at your table. People can get used to
just about anything and there is danger in that complacent comfort.
Cleaning glass day in and day out fosters a close relationship with yourself. You won't be spending
more time with anyone else. Liking yourself can make your day significantly easier to get through.
Loving yourself is needed for the long haul. Window cleaning offers you a blank mental canvas. With it
not being particularly intellectual work, you can paint it with anything you want. While you are singing
songs to yourself, planning out a home project, or stewing over a past argument that was too long ago,
why the heck is this coming up now? You are mixing the colours of your mood and brushing your joys
and frustrations. You quickly find out how much time you can spend with yourself before testing your
own patience. Your love, compassion, and commitment to being kind to yourself soften the hard edges of
the day. They bring equanimity and help you to accept the day, the client, and the window just how they
are. They help the wild foxes of your mind run free without critique. The thoughts and feelings you carry
with you are how your day has been spent. Some days you will paint a very grim canvas. Should you find
yourself at an art gallery, you would note the dark paintings contain the same amount of beauty as the
bright ones. It's all part of your exhibition.
My life as I know it, is not perfect. But to whose criteria? What parts matter most to me? What is a
job well done? What is my close enough? Have I paid close enough attention to my particular needs?
Have I given enough effort to myself? Am I working with myself the way I work with the water? The
energy, integrity, and love I bring to my profession are not only with me from 7 am to 5 pm. They
permeate all parts of me. How I treat myself. How I treat my loved ones. How I treat my neighbour. How
I treat strangers. How I treat my Sangha. It's almost as if I’m not separate from everyone and everything.
To study the water’s Way is to study the self; to study the self is to forget the self; to forget the self is to be
actualized by myriad things. My life’s not perfect, but it's perfectly what it is. I'm grateful for the lens I
see the world though. I’m grateful for the relationships I have. I'm grateful to be a window cleaner. I’m
grateful to be a student of the water. Most of all, I am grateful to be intimate with all things.
Gassho
Keith
satlah
an essay by Keith Hutchinson
To have window cleaning as your life's career is to be intimate with all things. It's to be ever
changing and fluid. It's to see the world from many perspectives. It's to look deeply into the most minute
detail and see it as the whole world and the sole reason for leaving your warm bed and setting off into the
still dark morning. It's being disciplined, kind and thoughtful, even in the worst of weather. It's to make
impermanence into a dear friend. Most of all, being a window cleaner is having an unbreakable bond with
yourself by valuing your doubts, trusting your intuition and nurturing your uncertainties. Without
discrimination, the glass will reflect back your skill, your love, your patience, and your insecurities.
Before the cleaning even begins, there are unsaid expectations for your conduct. So treating every
aspect of the experience as the most important part has been my trick for avoiding discrepancies between
my expectations and the client’s in the homes I visit. The invisible and changing force of their
expectations is what you’re really up against. So nothing gets overlooked. Answering the phone the first
time a client calls. Assuring them that I can help them with the problem they are having. Showing up on
time. Not blocking their car in the garage. If it's too early to ring the doorbell, I just knock softly.
Matching the energy they bring. Remembering the dog's name. Minding the flowers. Taking a picture of
the furniture placement to slide it back in its place. Tip toeing around their Zoom call. Most of the time, a
job well done has little to do with how clean the windows are. Yes, the glass is clean, but how was the
experience? If it could only be that easy. Only after getting to know a client do you learn their curriculum
and what aspects you are to be graded on. That's when you can really play to their idea of a job well done.
It takes a subtle read to know what the client really wants, even if they don’t. It’s not as adversarial as it
may seem — I truly do want to make people as happy as I can. Being a guest in someone's home requires
vulnerability by being warm, open, honest, and expressing your genuine desire to be there. You really do
meet the most fascinating people.
Mechanically, cleaning a window is something that anyone can do, and do well, but not something
that can be done perfectly. Myself included. Every person has their own idea of what “clean” really is. It
could be having the windowsills wiped clean, the spider webs taken down, the frames dusted, the screens
washed, the dead flies knocked from the rafters, or even the illusion of the glass being removed from the
house. But the criteria changes from house to house and learning to cater to the individual’s "close
enough" is a favour done for all parties. Perfect cannot be attained though. Perfectly clean does not exist.
Germs may still be present or dust may have been squished into the edges that a towel can’t wipe. I can
give my 100% effort, but I can never complete a 100% job. Perfect is the north star you walk towards for
guidance but never actually reach. There is no certainty; only close enough. No soiled or immaculate, yet
both soiled and immaculate, and we find the ever-changing middle way and hope for its approval.
The formal service of cleaning someone's glass is navigating the client’s needs but with that aside,
the actual cleaning process is working with the Way of the water. The visual of someone washing a
window is very beautiful. You could be having an all-out war with yourself, but to others you may as well
be sitting silently on your cushion. It's graceful. Rhythmic. Silent. Focused. It brings calmness.
Intertwined in a dance with the water you must match its movement if you wish for it to be your partner.
Using a T-shaped mop handle called a strip washer, you make wide sweeping motions. Looking deeply,
you make sure every inch, every pane, in every location, at every elevation is treated with the utmost care.
All the dirt, BBQ oil, dog nose prints, pollen, bug waste, and webs are very securely attached to the glass.
They cannot be just wiped away, but can be moved into the water. Nothing is destroyed, only relocated.
You continue your dance with the water by means of a squeegee. Where water meets gravity, you gently
direct the water downward and wipe the edges dry. Too much water can make a mess in a house and can
be caught by the wind and land on clean glass. Too little scrubbing and there will still be dirt left behind.
Move the squeegee too fast and it can skip over parts leaving smears and a wet mess. Move the squeegee
too slowly and the sun will dry the glass before you can get to it, leaving streaks in its wake. All easy
problems to fix, but it's best to treat the water the way it wishes to be treated. It will not bend to your
callousness, your impatience, or the changing seasons. The dance does not end when the window is clean.
You keep that fluid flow with you as you move around the building, as you glide up and down the ladder,
as you mindfully eat your lunch. There is wisdom in the water and you are there for each other's benefit.
It's a relationship where the water becomes like the cleaner, and the cleaner becomes like the water.
Your personal comfort around being up a 32-foot/10-metre ladder for multiple hours a day changes
from year to year. It's inherently very dangerous and your body and mind demand that you know that.
With time, you slowly learn to embrace those warning signs, but eventually you will go days without your
conscious mind even recognizing them. Your subconscious mind continues to keep working towards your
safety though, gently guiding your intuitions. You would think the largest risk to a window cleaner's
safety is falling off a ladder. In all actuality, it's getting into a car accident going from job to job, followed
by rolling your ankle or being swarmed by wasps. Relying on your intuition is a skill that takes years to
develop. It's a relationship you grow with yourself. It's offering tea to your worst case hypothetical and
letting them stay as long as they wish. It interrupts your autopilot when you are having a regular cloudy
morning and brings your attention to the uneven ground, the wet deck, the buzzing from the soffit or the
frost on the roof. All your insecurities deserve a comfortable chair at your table. People can get used to
just about anything and there is danger in that complacent comfort.
Cleaning glass day in and day out fosters a close relationship with yourself. You won't be spending
more time with anyone else. Liking yourself can make your day significantly easier to get through.
Loving yourself is needed for the long haul. Window cleaning offers you a blank mental canvas. With it
not being particularly intellectual work, you can paint it with anything you want. While you are singing
songs to yourself, planning out a home project, or stewing over a past argument that was too long ago,
why the heck is this coming up now? You are mixing the colours of your mood and brushing your joys
and frustrations. You quickly find out how much time you can spend with yourself before testing your
own patience. Your love, compassion, and commitment to being kind to yourself soften the hard edges of
the day. They bring equanimity and help you to accept the day, the client, and the window just how they
are. They help the wild foxes of your mind run free without critique. The thoughts and feelings you carry
with you are how your day has been spent. Some days you will paint a very grim canvas. Should you find
yourself at an art gallery, you would note the dark paintings contain the same amount of beauty as the
bright ones. It's all part of your exhibition.
My life as I know it, is not perfect. But to whose criteria? What parts matter most to me? What is a
job well done? What is my close enough? Have I paid close enough attention to my particular needs?
Have I given enough effort to myself? Am I working with myself the way I work with the water? The
energy, integrity, and love I bring to my profession are not only with me from 7 am to 5 pm. They
permeate all parts of me. How I treat myself. How I treat my loved ones. How I treat my neighbour. How
I treat strangers. How I treat my Sangha. It's almost as if I’m not separate from everyone and everything.
To study the water’s Way is to study the self; to study the self is to forget the self; to forget the self is to be
actualized by myriad things. My life’s not perfect, but it's perfectly what it is. I'm grateful for the lens I
see the world though. I’m grateful for the relationships I have. I'm grateful to be a window cleaner. I’m
grateful to be a student of the water. Most of all, I am grateful to be intimate with all things.
Gassho
Keith
satlah
for positive poetry 優婆塞 台 婆
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