I did some internal gymnastics, called on many of my tools, and woke up ready to welcome the day.
It was lovely pulling up at the site mid-day and being reminded of how well things go when everyone is working.
The newly painted beams were going up, using a savvy array of scaffolding, skills, and agility.
I love the color and am glad I made some waves about it, took the time to adjust it.
Jorge and I had a meeting on the side of the car about paperwork and costs etc... (I am pretty sure he could feel my frustration of yesterday and one of my self-prescribed exercises is to not try and stuff that away).
That part out of the way, I mentioned to him my fear about the house being dark once the roof is up and we played around with some ideas to remedy that, should it be the case.
Once again, I am touched and impressed with his patience with me, combined with his yes attitude. And with the skill of the crew. Which makes me feel a little unhappy with my bouts of annoyance and possible pettiness. Or is it control? Heck, I don't know what it's called but I know I want to find a sweeter spot with it, a more trusting place.
So yes, beams are expertly and somewhat acrobatically going up.
(Part of me wants to stay there all day and allow the wonderment of what they are doing to soak in. It's really something)
When Jorge and I mentioned the possibility of opening some holes way up in the walls later on, Rigo came up with a beautiful idea to let light in, right there on the spot. Creation in motion. What a gift.
As I got ready to leave and was about to get in my car, Jorge waved me back towards the house, and what I saw there was pure magic.
They had set up a tiny section of the way the ceiling was going to go up and wanted me to see it.
The bricks. The famous curved brick ceiling at which my friend Carol and I had marveled a few years ago in Mexico. As we started this project, I had decided to invest the extra $600 in choosing to have this ceiling for the house. It's truly awe-inspiring: rows of curved rust-colored bricks (which are handmade and fired, I am pretty sure), seemingly levitating up above our heads. I had wondered how it could be done and ... there it was. They knew this was going to get me and they looked on, amused. Catarino said to me, smiling "Y sin luz" ("and without electricity" - which is what I keep marveling at).
I asked questions about the process and shared my fears (yes, again) about "What happens if there is an earthquake." Because dang, I had carried ONE of these bricks to the paint store the other day, and let me tell you, they are not light. So of course, this had created an opportunity for The Fear Voice to bring up the earthquake question. It rarely misses a chance to step up to the mic and speak up.
I was told that this is actually a very stable and safe construction technique, the special curvature of the bricks creating a tension that is very strong. "Like a well," was the analogy that was shared and which I pretended to understand (wait... was this a white lie on my part?)
My fragile mind was soothed once more, and when Costa, Hannah, and I returned in the late afternoon on our way to a hike through the woods and hoping to find the waterfalls, the crew was packing up, and all looked great.
While we did not find the waterfalls, we saw many of the hoses that bring water down from the jungle to the houses nearby and it brought me yet one step closer to this growing humility of not taking water for granted again.
I mean... do YOU know where your water comes from? Really comes from? I have never even thought about it before. Last year, I gained appreciation for hot water but water? It turns out that water coming out of our faucets is the result of many happy events - and none of these events is a sure guarantee, I think.
Whew. I tell ya. The internal shifts are BIG.
And speaking of water, there is a meeting about just that at Jose Luis' (not the one who sold me the land) big orange house tonight. I am very much looking forward to seeing how this goes and paying attention, and again... learning.
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