Out and about early on 9-11 fourteen years ago, enjoying the still of the country morning on the West Coast, I turned on the radio for company. The news about jets crashing into the World Trade Center buildings hit me as absolutely shocking. As I listened I felt that life might never again feel exactly the same. I turned around and headed home. I didn't want my loved ones to wake up to such news without me there.
I hate that feeling of having to tell a perfectly happy person disastrous news. Would they also feel the same -- that such an insult to humanity would change and cloud our lives? We shared the shock and sat down to watch the rest of the miserable drama unfold, the blazes, the people jumping to their death, and the unimaginable reality of the buildings completely collapsing...
In the coming weeks and months, indeed all through the rest of the fall, I had a rather open schedule. I'd been thinking about constructing, converting part of a large unfinished outbuilding into a guest room and office. So I rolled up my sleeves and got busy. I worked day after day, first leveling the floor with concrete, framing the interior ceiling and walls, doors, windows, putting in plumbing, electrical, lights, drywall, tape/plaster/texture, paint, flooring, and carpet. Construction is far from my profession, so it took me a while -- but I got it right. All the time I worked I listed to talk radio, news, analysis. NPR in particular proved helpful as they would reliably go much deeper than headlines. As I listened to the news, the commentators, the experts, the military, so many distressed callers, I slowly worked it out in my mind. Every day I "built-back-up", creating a new space, a beautiful space, a welcoming space -- and I healed. I healed through listening and working with my hands and heart to build a sanctuary in my corner of the world. The building looks big and rustic from the outside. But inside, what a nice surprise.
All these many years later the space is still beautiful with its pale-blue 'Moonlight Sonata' paint color. I built it such that the original old-growth redwood lumber in the structure could show through here and there in form. I insulated it to R90 in the ceiling; with planning, the room can literally be heated with a couple light bulbs. Now that sanctuary is a counseling office. Oh don't worry, it isn't me (heaven forbid) sitting with clients, giving advice. But the place heals. People go in and they start feeling better even before their session begins.
Well, it isn't much about Amazons on this first post. But remember, friend, I promised to be spiritually uplifting. I hope you have a beautiful, heart-felt day. RB Greenfield
I hate that feeling of having to tell a perfectly happy person disastrous news. Would they also feel the same -- that such an insult to humanity would change and cloud our lives? We shared the shock and sat down to watch the rest of the miserable drama unfold, the blazes, the people jumping to their death, and the unimaginable reality of the buildings completely collapsing...
In the coming weeks and months, indeed all through the rest of the fall, I had a rather open schedule. I'd been thinking about constructing, converting part of a large unfinished outbuilding into a guest room and office. So I rolled up my sleeves and got busy. I worked day after day, first leveling the floor with concrete, framing the interior ceiling and walls, doors, windows, putting in plumbing, electrical, lights, drywall, tape/plaster/texture, paint, flooring, and carpet. Construction is far from my profession, so it took me a while -- but I got it right. All the time I worked I listed to talk radio, news, analysis. NPR in particular proved helpful as they would reliably go much deeper than headlines. As I listened to the news, the commentators, the experts, the military, so many distressed callers, I slowly worked it out in my mind. Every day I "built-back-up", creating a new space, a beautiful space, a welcoming space -- and I healed. I healed through listening and working with my hands and heart to build a sanctuary in my corner of the world. The building looks big and rustic from the outside. But inside, what a nice surprise.
All these many years later the space is still beautiful with its pale-blue 'Moonlight Sonata' paint color. I built it such that the original old-growth redwood lumber in the structure could show through here and there in form. I insulated it to R90 in the ceiling; with planning, the room can literally be heated with a couple light bulbs. Now that sanctuary is a counseling office. Oh don't worry, it isn't me (heaven forbid) sitting with clients, giving advice. But the place heals. People go in and they start feeling better even before their session begins.
Well, it isn't much about Amazons on this first post. But remember, friend, I promised to be spiritually uplifting. I hope you have a beautiful, heart-felt day. RB Greenfield
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