Annie B. has Meltdown

Okay so I have been homeless for a little over two months now.
Whether I am forthcoming in admitting it to myself or not, I am
a nester.
I have been truly loving the pace of this work, mixing the
clay, straw and sand plasters, pushing the wheelbarrow down to one of the unfinished shelters and applying layer after layer of insulation made of this Earth.
But there are some things besides the lack of a space of my own that have
helped to send me over the edge.
It is monsoon season in Ohio, which in the summer is sometimes (when not in drought) most of June. I should have remembered
this from when I lived here in Ohio from 98-05. Every June in those years, it rained buckets, and my garden thrived.
But I wasn’t camping in it for days on end. And the humidity. It’s not like I forgot that part either, but pretty much right after you get out of the shower here, you start to sweating again. I am too cranky and my body hurts way too much sleeping on the ground, the older I get. And speaking of the ground upon which I sleep, there is a tree stump right smack in the middle of this unfinished strawbale “chalet” in which I have set up my tent. When we were here for the weeklong course, I told folks that it seemed to be getting wet from below, but a few looked at me as if I was crazy. When I returned on the 9th, I saw that the oak stump had been waiting these past 3 years and had sent up 3 small leaves…so I wasn’t crazy and it is still alive. Simple tree biology dictates that as one of the most amazing water pumps of all, this tree, like all trees has brought up water from underground. (Read “The Man Who Planted Trees” for more). That water then transpires out into the atmosphere ( my mattress) where it will eventually turn back into rain and fall down upon us again. The Water Cycle.
And there is the issue of excruciating pain that I acquired after 3 years of non-stop computer reservations at the little hostel on the coast. I finally figured
out while looking at a book of Annie W.s that what I am dealing with is Carpel Tunnel
Syndrome. The night time is the worst. Yes, I am taking lots of herbs and trying to take care of myself but the details above make it unbearable at times…mostly when I am laying down and trying to sleep. So there is little of that (sleep).
So tonight after dinner I went back to my tent and cried a little and felt sorry for myself
And drummed on my drum. Then I put on my shoes and long mosquito proof clothing
And went down to the Mayapple Strawbale and low and behold there was a chair set up in there and it was completely dry inside. So I sat and dreamed about having a little House like this of my own. The birds were calling everywhere and it was so very peaceful to just sit there and think of all of the love that went into building that
little shelter. I looked lovingly around at it’s strong walls ( still growing grass like a chia pet) . I am proud ( and all of you should be too) that it has very even walls.
It has the most amazing presence there in the forest on the way down to the creek.
Something ( a bird maybe) has already built a nest above the bottle windows and beam and below the roof. I saw the most amazing Redbird (hill-billy language )aka Scarlet Tanager that I have ever seen . I heard a Barred Owl call down in the valley (as it was nearly dark). I thought of all of you who helped build it and all was okay in the world.
I got up and went up to the garden and put the corn seeds from Kevin that I had sprouted into the ground, planted the squash plants Annie gave me and fixed the screens around it so that the chickens wouldn’t eat them. I know that it’s okay to have meltdowns every once in a while. If nothing else, the amazing Pacific Ocean taught me day after day that everything in life ebbs and flows.
Tomorrow will be another day. I will finish the final coat on the inside of the Firefly shelter and hold onto the hope that someday soon, somewhere on this beautiful Earth, I will have home of my own. AB