The last couple of days have followed what has become my regular rhythm of writing in the morning and doing woodwork in the barn in the afternoon. In addition, Adam and I have sung the praises of the Buddhas in the hall and I have started reading to Adam the latest draft of my new book. This is a good way of trying it out and picking up small errors as well as giving some Dharma teaching.
Meanwhile the rain has not totally stopped, but has greatly reduced and the temperature has risen. As a result, the humidity level must now be very high. In the bits of the site that have a sun trap effect it is a bit like being in a steam bath.
My woodwork project is progressing both in the literal and in the psychological sense. At the practical level we now have a workable floor in one of the three upstairs sections of the large barn. If nothing else this can now function as a storage attic which will permit a considerable rationalisation of clobber and equipment.
At the psychological level, I am rather pleased with what has been accomplished. As a boy, by the time one reaches the age of about eight one realises that there are two kinds of boys. One kind are the sort who can take a motorbike to pieces and put it back together again in such a way that it goes better than before. The other kind, faced with much simpler tasks, blanch, feel totally inadequate and do not even put themselves through the humiliation of not knowing where to start. I was one of the latter category. Furthermore, my father was a highly skilled carpenter who made furniture and had even been known to turn out some proficient wood carvings. The only item that I ever brought home from woodworking class at school, fell to pieces as soon as I put it on the table for my parents to see. There was, therefore, a good deal of shame and humiliation attached to all things practical and woodwork in particular.
All this started to change when I first came to La Ville au Roi. The first thing that was apparent was that the roofs needed repairing. These French country properties are of simple construction. You can see everything. If there is a hole in the roof you know because there is a beam of light inside and water pours in when it rains, and if you don’t do something about it quickly it is soon doubling in size every few weeks. At that time we did not have the money to call in a professional roofer. Before coming to this place I had serious vertigo if I climbed to the top of a painter’s ladder. Soon, however, I was mending the roof of our big barn, 8 metres above ground level.
I gradually got the hang of roofs, but i was still very wary of wood. They say that Zen is about the Buddha nature of wood and tile and I’ve been finding out. Last year i decided to put a floor in the upper part of the barn. Carol was visiting and was a great help. However, in this place there are a thousand and one things to do and the project got put on hold. A couple of weeks ago I resumed. Some discussions with Jnanamati were a great help in motivating me and he also came along and helped for a few days which got things started. Nothing is easy when one is working in a building where there are no straight lines or flat surfaces. Putting in the stairwell has been particularly tricky. Anyway, one section is now done and today i was particularly pleased to have put in the very last joining boards connecting the two sides of the room with an impressively tight fit. No actual stairs yet, but that’s for a later phase. A ladder will do for now. The thing that touches me most, however, is that I think my father would have been happy to see it. Perhaps he is looking down with a wry smile and saying, “Well, lad, that’s not bad.”
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