What does a monastery have that your home doesn't? A lot less stress, for starters. Take a look at some basic monastic practices and see how easy it is to steal some serenity for yourself.
Not long ago, a tour bus stopped in front of my house and two dozen visitors disembarked. They'd come to view the 100-year-old Japanese garden in my backyard. Without a word of instruction, they spontaneously merged into a single file and advanced soundlessly along the suburban sidewalk like an order of monks, albeit monks in khaki shorts and ball caps with cameras strung from their necks.
It happened by itself, an autonomic response to the pervasive calm of the environment. When these guests leave, they might attribute their sudden state of reverence to some unseen spiritual power. Maybe the place is sacred, they might think. Mystically endowed, holy.
I thought about this recently when I was asked to come up with some simple tips for de-stressing a home. If I live on hallowed ground, I might have an unfair advantage in handling stress. Except I don't. I stress out just as easily as anyone, but by managing my environment, I de-stress easily too.
What turns a home into a sanctuary? What transforms a familiar set of cramped rooms into a sense of spaciousness? What changes everyday chaos into an oasis of calm? You don't need to install a meditation garden or consult a geomancer. There are no ancient secrets. The same devotional practices that turn monasteries into bastions of serenity can relieve the mindless stress that infiltrates your home life. Even if you can't consistently observe all of these pointers, doing a few will change the way you feel when you come home, and that is nothing less than a modern miracle.
Observe light. The natural world wakes with the first light of the sun--why not you? If rising at daybreak is too late for your daily work and commuting schedule, wake before the sun and observe the sunrise. Think twice before you hit the snooze button. If your waking thought is resistance, you wake in stress. You start the day in a race against time, and you stay that way. The sun is not only a natural time management system, it delivers the neurotransmitter serotonin that enhances brain function and reduces stress.
Observe darkness. Turn the power off and see what happens when night falls. We've turned our homes into temples of electronic stimulation, and our default position is maximum overdrive. Gadgets are handy and appliances are useful, but everything from the microwave to the smoke alarm and the cell phone to the computer is discharging a constant pulsing stream of energy. We cannot afford to be careless about our electronic addictions because we are going out of our minds. Evening brings a natural end to the 24-hour workday, restores mind-body balance, and invites quiet.
Observe quiet. I'll be loud and clear. The quiet that needs observing is not an external silence like the kind imposed at a library or hospital. Our homes are not ivory towers or infirmaries. The quiet that needs stilled is our internal commentary--the nonstop thoughts that stir anger, resentment, anxiety and fear. You may never get around to practicing meditation, but try this technique in the meantime. Designate a comfortable seat in your bedroom as your "quiet chair." Clear it of clutter; keep it empty and available. When domestic chaos and turmoil overtakes you, retreat to your bedroom and take sanctuary in your quiet chair. Conflicts will decelerate by themselves when you take a step back. When the decibels in your head come down, come out.
Observe bells. A mountain of laundry, a forest of weeds, and an avalanche in the hall closet: the sheer size of untended tasks at home can topple us into paralyzing despair. When chores get out of hand, pick up some extra time. Set a timer for 20 or 30 minutes and focus on doing one thing during that period. It doesn't matter if you finish; what matters is that you start. Once you start, the finish comes into view.
Observe nature. Open a window. The view doesn't matter. Open a door. You don't have to be in a national park. Air and light are curative. If you doubt it, just take a walk around the block and watch your mood lift with the breeze and change with the scenery.
Observe order. Washing dishes, sweeping floors, folding clothes, clearing the table and sorting mail: these are not just simple means of practicing mindfulness, they are your mind. As Buddha described our true relationship to our environment, "There is no inside, there is no outside, and there is no in-between." When we resist order, we are messing with our minds.
Observe ritual. Light a candle, and elevate your mealtime. Burn incense, and alleviate anxiety. Sages have always known that rituals are not just symbolic. Your rituals don't have to reek of religious significance. Give yourself a set of completion rituals to signify the end of the day. Empty the kitchen sink; put your shoes in the closet; brush and floss your teeth. Repeated, rituals prepare you to enter a state of repose.