Warhorses Love Gettin' Their Hands Dirty
It’s true, we make naturally aggressive cleaners and fiercely kind cleansers…ok, enough with the trendy descriptions. We make soap, darn good soap, but with an innovative twist. We are clean freaks, sort of.... No we're not. We clean because we have to. We do it, do it aggressively, effectively, simply, safely. And we clean and move on.
Here’s our ugly truth: We’d rather be “dirty” than be clean. Getting dirty pays off!
“Dirty” gets a bad wrap, sometimes. Messy. Grimy. Sweaty. Greasy. Stained. Nasty. Grungy. Filthy (I particularly love the word filthy --means a buildup of dirt, layers of grime, shows a stick with it attitude, a marathoner of intensity). Mire. Muck. Rumpled. Flawed. Chaotic.
You might think Warhorse loves to clean up messes, that we focus on the “clean.” Heck no. We clean so we can get dirty again. We love “dirt.” As a former high school English teacher (yes, I know I sound boring already), I know dirty gets a bad wrap in the classroom as well. Truth is, students learn, grow when they dig in, embrace chaos, get dirty. I “taught” a lot of Shakespeare—Romeeeeeo and Juliet to freshmen, crazy, wildHamlet to seniors. Shakespeare’s audience didn’t just sit passively and listen. They didn’t read his works from clean, bound anthologies in a quiet, neat, deodorized-with-Lysol-by clean-freak-teacher classroom. Heck no, Shakespeare’s underling audience laughed out loud, gasped, guffawed at bodacious, bawdy behavior, stood in the muck and mire of the outdoor stage, sweating and hanging on every word to catch the sarcasm, biting humor, the euphonic and cacophonous and rhythmical poetry of the master scholar of human behavior.
“Clean” gets too much praise, sometimes. Tidied. Purified. Perfected. Orderly. Groomed. Broomed. Dry-Cleaned. Deodorized. Shiny. Neat. Ugh! Please, if I’m spending all my time getting or staying clean, what am I missing out on? When my students were quiet, in linear rows, with book bags tucked under the desks and notebooks and pensive pens ready, waiting for my instructions on how to dissect Shakepeare’s iambic pentameter, waiting like passive, clean slates—little tabula rasas—they were freakin’ bored.
Here’s some of my filthy friends and family (animals are friends and family too), and the places they’ve been, getting out and about, on the move. Took some sweat to get there…
I don’t want to be too clean for too long, because it probably means stationary, for too long. Want to get the cleaning job done and move on. Don’t want to look in the mirror too long. If I’m cleaning, combing, keeping everything straight, tided, then I’m not out there. Warhorses rest, but don't hibernate like bears.
I’ll stop lecturing you now (Once a nagging teacher, always a nagging teacher).
I need to get off this computer and get a little dirty.