One of the last big projects we had was to lay out pea gravel around the entrance gate to the land. The area was getting incredibly muddy with all the rain we've been having. The mud wouldn't drain away and so it was getting that stinky stagnant mud smell. Whenever we would pull up to the gate a huge mud puddle would be waiting for us to step in and trek that foul odor into our car. It wasn't pleasant. Jim had a huge pile of pea gravel on the land for us to use. So when the right sunny day arrived, Kim and I decided it was time to cover up the bog.
We drove Blixie, our red wagon, to the gravel pile with two shovels, a rake and the enthusiasm to get the job done with as much fun as we could. It took us eight car loads to get enough gravel to cover the area. It was great. The sun blazed down on us, we broke a tremendous sweat and we got to talk about stuff. What a great way to spend the morning. It was also just a fantastic work out. We felt that great burning sensation in our arms, shoulders, and back muscles. The twisting motion we needed to do to get the gravel from the pile into the car and then the from the car to the muddy bog added in a great ab workout. We laughed at each other as we wondered whether real farmers think that their daily chores offer them a great ab workout. Sometimes we feel like we are just playing at being farmers, carpenters, plumbers and electricians. Perhaps we are just playing, but isn't it great to translate one's daily work to play.
We've had such a variety of work since coming to the land. It's been everything from the mundane job of scrubbing mold off toys to the hair raising experience of being in the middle of a ladder climb and unable to step forward. A few weeks back, we were putting up blinds on the upstairs lanai area to keep rain from coming onto the furniture. We had the 24' ladder propped up against the house and I had geared myself up mentally for the climb. I used to pride myself on being someone who was unafraid of heights and even death. I would intellectually tell myself that if it was my time to go, I was ready to go. This intellectual mantra I would tell myself was quickly dispelled a few years ago when we had a slight earthquake here in Hawai‘i. I was laying on the sofa in our Honolulu living room when I heard the pre-earthquake sound of a jet stream and then the house started to shake like crazy. I leapt off the sofa in a panic and my first thought was, "Oh my God! The North Koreans are attacking! We're all going to die." There is sometimes a gap between what you tell yourself intellectually and what you actually put into practice. I got some vindication from this about a year later when I saw the Ram Dass documentary, "Fierce Grace." Dass had a stroke a few years back. As he lay on the ground after the attack, Dass was startled that he did not have one holy, profound or spiritual thought. He had spent decades being the guru to thousands and yet at this crossroad moment there was no thought of enlightenment. It helped Dass reevaluate his teaching and his place on this planet.
And so there I was in the middle of this 24' ladder and it began bouncing quite a bit. Sweat began stinging my eyes as it began to pour from my head. I am generally unafraid of heights, but at that moment I was paralyzed. In college, I had jumped out of an airplane from a mile above the earth. That was pretty simple. I leaned out of the plane and had the jump master, attached to me, do all the work. I had, at that time, the benefit of an expert with me to make sure all the equipment was sound. But now, halfway up the ladder, I was relying on my own judgement as to whether or not the top and bottom of the ladder were firmly placed. Going up meant climbing into the unknown. Going down meant facing the little demons in my head that would whisper, "coward" incessantly in my psyche.
Kim talked me through the process a bit and suggested that I take a break and come down from the ladder. I wrestled with my demons for a little while and found the courage to step down from the ladder. We actually found a better and safer way to put up the blinds that did not require us to use the ladder at all. My ego was a little bruised from the climb down, but I'm working on not listening to him anyway.
Who are we when we are faced with those imminently dangerous moments? Where do we find the strength to not run for cover? It makes me think about the young men that crossed the border into Canada during the Vietnam War. Was it more courageous of them to leave everything familiar with no thought of returning rather than follow the herd into the fire?
Kim and I have some work to do in the next few months. It will be the process of getting as clear as we possibly can about what we want to create in our lives. I know that this kind of work is all intertwined with the physical labor we've been doing, but it will be refreshing to focus primarily on the emotional and spiritual work. And like the physical labor, if we approach it with an attitude of fun and courage, it will be great.
We drove Blixie, our red wagon, to the gravel pile with two shovels, a rake and the enthusiasm to get the job done with as much fun as we could. It took us eight car loads to get enough gravel to cover the area. It was great. The sun blazed down on us, we broke a tremendous sweat and we got to talk about stuff. What a great way to spend the morning. It was also just a fantastic work out. We felt that great burning sensation in our arms, shoulders, and back muscles. The twisting motion we needed to do to get the gravel from the pile into the car and then the from the car to the muddy bog added in a great ab workout. We laughed at each other as we wondered whether real farmers think that their daily chores offer them a great ab workout. Sometimes we feel like we are just playing at being farmers, carpenters, plumbers and electricians. Perhaps we are just playing, but isn't it great to translate one's daily work to play.
We've had such a variety of work since coming to the land. It's been everything from the mundane job of scrubbing mold off toys to the hair raising experience of being in the middle of a ladder climb and unable to step forward. A few weeks back, we were putting up blinds on the upstairs lanai area to keep rain from coming onto the furniture. We had the 24' ladder propped up against the house and I had geared myself up mentally for the climb. I used to pride myself on being someone who was unafraid of heights and even death. I would intellectually tell myself that if it was my time to go, I was ready to go. This intellectual mantra I would tell myself was quickly dispelled a few years ago when we had a slight earthquake here in Hawai‘i. I was laying on the sofa in our Honolulu living room when I heard the pre-earthquake sound of a jet stream and then the house started to shake like crazy. I leapt off the sofa in a panic and my first thought was, "Oh my God! The North Koreans are attacking! We're all going to die." There is sometimes a gap between what you tell yourself intellectually and what you actually put into practice. I got some vindication from this about a year later when I saw the Ram Dass documentary, "Fierce Grace." Dass had a stroke a few years back. As he lay on the ground after the attack, Dass was startled that he did not have one holy, profound or spiritual thought. He had spent decades being the guru to thousands and yet at this crossroad moment there was no thought of enlightenment. It helped Dass reevaluate his teaching and his place on this planet.
And so there I was in the middle of this 24' ladder and it began bouncing quite a bit. Sweat began stinging my eyes as it began to pour from my head. I am generally unafraid of heights, but at that moment I was paralyzed. In college, I had jumped out of an airplane from a mile above the earth. That was pretty simple. I leaned out of the plane and had the jump master, attached to me, do all the work. I had, at that time, the benefit of an expert with me to make sure all the equipment was sound. But now, halfway up the ladder, I was relying on my own judgement as to whether or not the top and bottom of the ladder were firmly placed. Going up meant climbing into the unknown. Going down meant facing the little demons in my head that would whisper, "coward" incessantly in my psyche.
Kim talked me through the process a bit and suggested that I take a break and come down from the ladder. I wrestled with my demons for a little while and found the courage to step down from the ladder. We actually found a better and safer way to put up the blinds that did not require us to use the ladder at all. My ego was a little bruised from the climb down, but I'm working on not listening to him anyway.
Who are we when we are faced with those imminently dangerous moments? Where do we find the strength to not run for cover? It makes me think about the young men that crossed the border into Canada during the Vietnam War. Was it more courageous of them to leave everything familiar with no thought of returning rather than follow the herd into the fire?
Kim and I have some work to do in the next few months. It will be the process of getting as clear as we possibly can about what we want to create in our lives. I know that this kind of work is all intertwined with the physical labor we've been doing, but it will be refreshing to focus primarily on the emotional and spiritual work. And like the physical labor, if we approach it with an attitude of fun and courage, it will be great.
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