We are so scared of being rejected, ignored and hurt. All of us build entangled webs of protection around our vulnerable hearts. Sometimes we draw that protection so tightly around us that the strain physically hurts. If we stay with that feeling, the tangles slowly unfurl and uncover our fragile hearts. Our vulnerability is our beauty, our potential for connection with the beauty of the Earth.
Westacre Day minus 37
While Roger was repairing the gap in the ceiling where there once used to be a partition wall, Alex laid batons and Celotex for the kitchen floor. And once there is a floor, who knows what other miracles might happen.
Hilde is counting down the days at City Lit (10 days to go, spread over 4 weeks) and is disappointed with the window company who have failed to get back to her so far.
Westacre Day minus 38
Alex took it easy today, with a shorter day’s labour. He repaired some damage done to the bungalow rafters by the guy who fit the boiler yesterday. Then he attacked the kitchen floor and took it back to the original concrete, ready for an insulated chipboard floor to go in.
Hilde called a window company with a view to replacing the rotten wooden windows in Harrow. She also interviewed a prospective German tutor for City Lit, and answered many e-mails.
Mother Earth, let me rest on you. Let me melt into your arms and sleep in peace.
Father Sky, let me stretch into your vast spaces. Let me find peace beyond myself.
Grandfather Sun, let me stand in your fire. Let the strain burn away.
Grandmother Ocean, let me bathe in your waves. Let your ebb and flow bring me peace.
Westacre Day minus 39 today, but let me tell you about yesterday…
It was all going very well, better than I had expected. Even though I’ve had a bad experience with tiling before, I had said I was going to have a go at tiling the bathroom in the bungalow, and I was doing OK. I prepped the walls. I measured and measured again and made some decisions. I had got the scary tile cutter out of its box and got it going. I cut some tiles. I mixed some tile adhesive.
When it came to stick the tiles to the wall, my prejudices against this job were confirmed: I truly, passionately and without reservation hate tiling. There may have been tears.
You need to get the things on the wall straight and level. The adhesive needs to be of equal thickness. There has to be enough of it but not too much. You have to get the lines straight, of course. And you have to somehow keep the front of the tiles clean of adhesive. Tell you what: It is impossible. Alex had to rescue me.
In the evening, I travelled back to Harrow on the train. Everything was going well, and I got off at Watford Junction for my last connection. I got on the wrong train, that hurtled straight past my stop to London Euston. Where there was no way to get back to my stop except on a slow train that terminated way short of my destination, plus a tube train, plus a rail replacement bus service.
I arrived home 1.5 hours after I should have done, thoroughly miserable and stressed.
By contrast, today the boiler was installed in the bungalow, which now has full central heating. We won’t have to work in the cold.
I had a few days of frustration where I felt progress was slow, and where I felt trapped in my last few weeks at work. But I’ve discovered that doing something, anything, to help the project progress (from trips to the dump to scraping paint off walls) makes me feel better. In the same way, I can get frustrated that it’s hard to fit my spiritual practice into busy DIY days. But doing something, anything, even just a simple greeting to the Earth and the Sun, balances and grounds me as I wait for my new life to take shape.
Andy the electrician and some of his satisfying wires
Westacre Day minus 41
Today some amazing progress was made in the bungalow. Andy the electrician brought two of his mates. They drilled holes in the walls, and all of them have satisfying wires hanging out of them now.
Hilde thought she was going to do a quick wall paper stripping job in preparation for some tiling, but ended up removing several layers of paint as well.
Alex finished the very last of the plumbing, ready for the man to come and install the boiler on Monday. He also spent ages drilling holes through porcelain floor tiles to fix the toilet in the shower room.
Roger started fixing some of the holes in his ceiling, but had a setback when the plasterboard started sagging dangerously. Hopefully this can be corrected without too much fuss in the morning.
After nearly a week of nervous jitters (life is after all quite stressful at the moment), I sat down with the Westacre soil. It is going to be our partner and ally in creating beauty for this place, so I need to build a good relationship with it. I felt its cool solidity, smelled its rich fertility, saw its dark life-giving texture and tasted its gritty strength. I listened deeply, with all of my being and allowed it to speak to the depth of me. Slowly, all tension crumbled. The feel of my body became as loose and open as the soil. I felt at home.
The Oak King in the lane wearing his golden crown
Westacre Day minus 42
This morning, the electrician came to the bungalow and prepared it for complete re-wiring. In the afternoon, all three of us went out shopping for light fittings. We hit pay dirt in a friendly lighting shop and bought three lights for the living room ceiling, four for the walls; one light for each bedroom; a light for the porch; and a strip light for the store room. Success!
Hilde had a deep conversation with the soil of Westacre, and felt herself settle and rest at last. Only six weeks to go…