Wiping for good luck? A cleaning trend in Japan | Japanese Habits

There's an old saying, clean your toilet and money will come. And now there's a new one. Side on social media. Apparently it's all about wiping. Here's a pitch. A few minutes a day, that's enough. No thinking, hands keep moving. Tidy room, calm mind. Fuku, Japanese for wipe. Same sound, also means good luck. Wiping brings luck, that's the idea. Never thought of it that way. It's just I've kept on cleaning almost every day. So it surprised me a little. Wiping, always my favorite. The only tool, a rug. Hardly a sound. Quiet, calm. Anytime works. For me, it's kind of like washing my face or getting dressed. When I wipe, whatever I feel just comes out. Maybe it's because I'm so close to things. Stuff with a vacuum never shows me. Not the broom either. That's what I come across. A scratch on the floor. From when the chair got knocked over. Looks painful. And I run my hands over it. Crayon marks on tatami. My granddaughter's. And I'm smiling before I know it. Just cleaning though. Funny, right? Do I do it to stop thinking? No, I get lost in it. To calm my mind? No, nothing that deep. But when I wipe, answers come on their own. Only the little everyday questions. Here's one. Back before cleaning was a daily thing. Lots of days I'd think, I don't feel like cleaning today. It's clean anyway. Good enough, right? That's when I'd picture my grandmother. Why did she keep at it every single day? Never a reason. Never a complaint. After it became my habit too, I still didn't know. Even my own reason couldn't put it into words. Been wondering for a long time. One morning, middle of summer, around five. That day, somehow, I was so into wiping. A shelf hadn't touched it in two years. Moved it, and there was dust. Wild and soft, like tiny bits of dandelion fluff. My hands stopped, and I heard myself mumble. Sorry, I didn't look after you. Just cleaning, and I'm apologizing? Felt kind of strange. Then I wiped all around it, really carefully. The shelf too. What if my grandmother had given me a reason? Like, it keeps things clean. Or, good luck comes flying in. I might've quit by now. Maybe she knew. Once there's a reason, there's a reason to quit too. All done wiping, I saw my sweaty face in the mirror. And it hit me. Fuku, to wipe. Fuku, to blow. Haku, to sweep. Haku, to exhale. Wiping, sweeping. Both, breathing out? Cleaning's kind of like breathing. My grandmother never gave me a reason. I get it now. I tried saying it to her. Today too, rug in hand. Thank you, as always, for being here. See you next time.