Okay, I know how that sounds.
But give me a few minutes — and I might just convince you that cleaning can be magical.
In today’s world, you don’t have to dig far to find people talking about energy, frequency, and vibration. Scroll TikTok, search Google Scholar, wander YouTube — you’ll find researchers, healers, and the deeply curious saying what many of us have always felt: energy flows through everything.
And if energy flows through everything… then isn’t cleaning a sacred act?
I remember sitting in high school biology learning that nothing is truly solid. I’d stare at my desk, trying to see the molecules vibrating. I never did — but I never forgot the idea. Years later, I read The Man Who Tapped the Secrets of the Universe about Walter Russell, and it hit me like lightning. This knowing wasn’t new — it was just waking up again inside me.
That’s when something clicked.
I started seeing every chore as a kind of energetic ritual. When I swept the floor, I was sweeping out something in me that no longer belonged. When I put something back in place, I was restoring balance — not just to my space, but to my spirit.
Here’s what I discovered when I turned housework into a cosmic ritual:
Life felt lighter.
Even fun.
I’d turn on the music, sing at the top of my lungs, and move with intention.
Cinderella style — but not waiting on a prince. I wasn’t trying to escape my life; I was reclaiming it.
Now, real quick — a side story, but one that’s always stuck with me.
Back when I was living in Budd Lake, I used to make all my workshop flyers by hand. I'd decorate the envelopes with bright stickers and happy colors because I didn’t want the post office workers to be bored with my mail.
I didn’t know it at the time, but it made an impact.
Years later, after I’d already moved, they still forwarded my mail — no form, no request. “Your envelopes always made us smile,” they said.
And around that same time, I was also trying to finally get child support from my first husband, who had moved across the country. The laws had just changed to allow states to cooperate, so I sent off the paperwork — in a neon orange folder, inside a happy, sticker-covered envelope that said “Thank You” all over it.
I called to confirm they received it.
The woman on the phone said:
“There’s a new judge, and over 100 cases stacked up. But yours? I moved it to the top. It was the best one I could find. Thank you for making it such a happy thing.”
It still gives me goosebumps.
Because whether it’s a mop or a manila envelope, the energy we put in matters.
People feel it — even when they don’t realize they do.
So no, I’m not just saying “happy cleaning.”
I’m saying: let every little thing be infused with intention. Let the ordinary be magical. Let the breath be sacred. And let the sweeping be a love letter to the universe.
Love,
Nancy
