The Sink

I had it in my mind that I really wanted a beautiful, organic-looking sink for my kitchen. Built of hand-polished concrete (polished = caressed), the thought of  partnering with one of these pieces of simple art when doing my dishes almost made me purr.

When a man I knew said that he could do it, I gave him the job.

Over the course of a few days, he created my kitchen counter and sink, all of polished concrete. I mixed the color myself, aiming for  a neutral yet warm hue, something akin to a stone that has been sitting in the sun all day.

As happened many times over the course of building Casa Sama, I got some of what I wanted and  some of what I didn't.

I love the strength, the fact that it is just THERE, no way to move it. I love that it feels - and is - an integral part of the house. I love how cool it is under my hands and I love the color. I love the shape too, with not one straight or sharp angle.

But the size.

Something went awry in the measurement of the actual sink and as soon as it was poured I could tell that "the big farmhouse sink" I had envisioned was going to be more of a "narrow yet deep cavity."

That bugged me a silly amount.

I left for the States and for the three months that I was over there, I don't think two days passed without me having a conversation with myself about the size of The Sink.

Parts of it went like this:
- I'll never be able to put a pan in there.
- It's too small to even put one of these plastic bassinettes-thingy.
- I'm going to hate doing the dishes.
- I gave him the measurements.
- What a bunch of bulls***
- I'm just going to have to break it and have it rebuilt.

In my mind, just as I was thousands of miles away having otherwise beautiful Pacific Northwest mornings, I was fighting with this little bit of polished concrete on the other side of the border.

Eventually, I came back, moved into the house, and started doing  the dishes.
The orange tub fits perfectly in the depth of the beautiful sink and so does the yellow one. PERFECTLY.

No, it is not "perfectly" flat at the bottom and yes it requires "a system",  but so does the whole house, the whole living here, actually.

It took me a couple of weeks to learn how to work with The Sink. In those weeks I allowed myself the possibility of installing a small dishwasher. I let myself feel it all.

And then, gently, without even forcing anything, it all clicked.
Today The Sink and I are very good friends.

It's beautiful. I love it. All of it.

When I think of the hours - truly, hours - I spent future-casting my relationship with The Sink, fighting with it, troubleshooting it ... I am baffled.

I exchanged present moments of Peace and Ease for future moments of Doubt and Angst.

Me. Me who has read and re-read The Power of Now. Me who works with people every day reminding them to not fight with illusions and "could be."

I love it when Life reminds me of the work I still get to do, the learning I still get to embrace.

I love it when I have a big pile of dishes to wash in My Beautiful Sink.

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