The Real Street of Dreams Ch2

The Blue Star Gazette

PHOTOS: Top down: Hans in his Grundens. My son Bryan and I practice precision hammering techniques. Our first exterior wall community style. Kristina learns the chop saw as the temperatures plummet. Tera finding shelter next to her husband Peter after a work day in the rain. Kristina learns the chop saw as the temperatures plummet.	The REAL STREET OF DREAMS Chapter 2: "Thar She Blows!" by Jai Tiger Reed, Editor I can’t decide to call this piece “Thar She Blows” or “Days of Grunden” Exhausted, hammering in wet clothes as the darkness rises early, I think of Herman Melville’s immortal line in Moby Dick, “and still I stab at thee.” I miss the nail. Pushing through the burning in my elbows, I quiet my mind, swing my hammer and let it go...BAM...the nail sinks into the wood. “That ones for Master NuNu.” Now three months into our project and putting in 30 hours a week with the help of my son and his friends, as the weather becomes unkind, I am learning a lot about capacity, storms of the mind, and high quality raingear. When the rains and the cold hit, I look to my neighbors. On my right is Hans, a sailor, who came to work in his Grundens (squeeky orange rubber raingear that keeps even the Alaskan fisherman dry) and on my left is Kristina who scored excellent raingear and boots at Goodwill. My idea of layering cotton didn’t work well so after an asthma attack at Nortwest Outdoors over the price of Grundens and backpacking rain outfits, I settle on a clear vinyl rainsuit from Target for $20. My son laughs “What is that?” “Cool, huh? By the way, you left your framing hammer in my car.” I reply. ‘To hammer like a girl’ is to control the hammer, to hold it close to the head and push it with a painfully clenched forearm. ‘To hammer like a guy’ is to hold the hammer farther on the neck and swing it, letting it fall onto the head of the nail. ‘To hammer like a god’ takes us to Thor, Nordic God of thunder. Son of Odin, he owns a short handled hammer that makes the sound of thunder when he strikes with it. He wears a magic belt which increases his strength and iron gloves to help him lift his hammer. Must be that the sounds of our community hammers pleased Thor and brought the thunder! And, to hammer in the dark is to trust. “Jai” says Kristina to me as we try to beat the night finishing a wall, “I think I’m better at hitting the nail in the dark!” To be in the darkness requires trust, control must yield and that is not easy. Our first day of real building sees us working on the walls of my house. After pulling more nails than I could pound in, I quelch my self-critic by stopping and watching the others. There is Ken with his mighty swing. I notice when he misses he doesn’t sway. The next hit gets it and within three or four swings the nail is in. I watch the other men, some are pulling more nails that I am. “See...” I reply to my self-critic who turns her head to pout. I settle on Hans (who I decide must be a direct descendent of Thor) as my hammering model and go to work side by side to get the swing of it. I try imitating his motions - moving my hand up the handle of the hammer, drawing the hammer up over my head, and letting it drop not caring so tightly if I actually hit the nail or not. To my surprise, BAM, a perfect strike and I feel joy tinted satisfaction at the sound of the wood parting and the nail moving a good inch. I commit myself to ‘hammer like a guy.’ Sparks fly as Hans and I move down the line of studs and hammer them into the top-plate. Ejay watches me smiling with encouragement and suggests that at the end of the building process it will be Hans and I in a hammering competition. We decide to go for it now. Hans wins, 4 strokes to my 7 but I win for most self-improved. My mind is worse than the storm The alarm sounds. As I draw in my first conscious breath I listen for the weather before I open my eyes. Not good - the wind is howling, the windows are shaking and my room is below zero. Looks worse when you add the visuals - sideways rain, tree debris, windows soaked from pelting rains. My happy summer theme song for Saturdays plays in my head “Its house building day, hurray hurray, its house building day hurray.” Uggghhh. (Now I know how my son feels when he hears it.) The weather in me worsens and my mind races down the gloom and doom track. It shows me pitted against the elements working month after month after month in weather captured in such films as “The Perfect Storm” and “Around Cape Horn”. I become weak and sick, unable to finish. The fear voices that crippled me for so long pipe up “better go back to bed and not work today.” This is my cue to come back to reality. I think of Master NuNu. He has a fond expression for situations like this - where every ounce of courage, capacity, and perserverence are called for. These soul exursions are called “Holiday!” as he plunges in to meet the difficulty. So I get dressed, run down the stairs, grab my tool belt and four coats and shout “Holiday” as the winds whip against the opening door. “HOLIDAY” I have attended many ‘holidays’ with Master NuNu over the last year I have been training with him. I have followed his “Follow me...see, its not so bad” into very physical experiences of the depths of my fears, mostly hating it. Once, in a panic I ran out of the woods through a grove of salal. Later my classmates and teacher were laughing about this and asked me what happened. At that point in the ‘holiday’ I was convinced I would never get out, I had fallen into quicksand and the salal around me suddenly felt seven feet tall. In reality, it reached my knees. (I remember this that stormy day because by the time I got to the job shack, the sky was already clearing!) So ‘holiday’ it is! Ken needs a crew to put up the blocking between the joists of what will become the floor of the second story of my house. I am uncomfortable with heights so I volunteer. My attempt at ‘Holiday’ becomes ‘holy god’ as I try to move from the ladder onto the four inch rafters. I break out in a sweat and go back down. The guys move the ladder to a place where it is easier to get up. Ken is already up top and tells me that I don’t have to do it. I tell him I am getting over a fear of heights and that I won’t be stupid but I want to try. He responds supportively to my spirit “OK, keep your center close to the wood. Climb out onto your knees. I’m right here. Keep your eyes on the board.” I make it and sit down on the large board in relief until I look down. I spend the afternoon hammering pieces of wood between the rafters, feet dangling in mid air. The only one that can hammer the center nails, I move up and down the rafters focusing my mind on the work and conspiring with my neighbors to have a surprise for Ken’s birthday. Kristina screams - “Ken just did something...” Suddenly the back of the board I am sitting on lifts up into the air as Ken pushes it up for the longest three seconds of my life. Afterward my hearty ‘holiday’ scream I lay on my back blinking at the sky laughing, feeling 100% present. (Then I begin to plot my revenge...) Continuing to follow this philosphy of embracing the hard parts, I take the top jobs and work dangling over the edge of the second floor with a skill saw, hammeriing scraps onto small rafters in mid-air. Yesterday the temperature plummetted and the winds came gusting up. I stood up to clean up and climb down. As I rose into the high winds, my fear turned into exhilaration. Freedom is a hard fight. To wake up, to see, admit and penetrate into the dark storms of ourselves is not easy or usual. I think of a teaching of a friend of mine, “We are not here to be small and folded up, we are here to be magnificant.” Fear has in the past made my life a prison. Qualities of negative self-talk, overly zealous self criticism, negative talk of others are the stuff the prison walls are made of. The chains are forged with regrets, lack of trust, inaction. Freedom is a choice. My son once said that “There is more capacity in the struggle for freedom than any other struggle.” As I come to knowing the truth about myself, the old paradigm of ‘small and folded up’ conflicts with the new paradigm of ‘magnificent.’ Real change necessitates inner deaths. Its not easy, for me or for anyone. Some days my training is so difficult that even Master NuNu is driven to a wild look and grasps the hilt of his sword. But he doesn’t give up. It is another miracle of my transformation that I am surrounded by people who are invested in my strength and willing to stay with me through the painful emotional cracking of lack of confidence to the opening of my magnificence. Through the storms of my past, the fog of my illusions, the pelting rains of my self-doubts, I am learning to swing the hammer like a god. With power & a trust so great it alters the fabric of reality, creating sparks of creation and thunderclaps of praise - and eight houses along the way. Look, its snowing! Holiday! About the program, you can learn more about the Mutual Self-Help Housing Program at Kitsap Consolildated Housing Authority's website, www.kccha.org. The run the program for Kitsap and Jefferson Counties. The program is through the USDA's rural development program. WANNA HELP? Volunteers and groups are more than welcome to speed us on our journey. Just contact Jai at jai@earthdancepress.com. The Blue Star Gazette Your guide to an naturally inspired, magical lifestyle Brought to you by a community of those involved in the healing arts. Please contact the authors and sponsors of the Blue Star Gazette on-line (www.the bluestargazette.net) and tell them you saw their work here! Don't miss an issue! Subscribe and receive each edition for only $21. Just send your editor an email and we'll get it set jai@earthdancepress.com. Feel free to call me at the office at 360-379-blue(2583).

PHOTOS: Top down: Hans in his Grundens. My son Bryan and I practice precision hammering techniques. Our first exterior wall community style. Kristina learns the chop saw as the temperatures plummet. Tera finding shelter next to her husband Peter after a work day in the rain. Kristina learns the chop saw as the temperatures plummet.

The REAL STREET OF DREAMS
Chapter 2: "Thar She Blows!"
by Jai Tiger Reed, Editor

I can’t decide to call this piece “Thar She Blows” or “Days of Grunden” Exhausted, hammering in wet clothes as the darkness rises early, I think of Herman Melville’s immortal line in Moby Dick, “and still I stab at thee.” I miss the nail. Pushing through the burning in my elbows, I quiet my mind, swing my hammer and let it go...BAM...the nail sinks into the wood. “That ones for Master NuNu.”

Now three months into our project and putting in 30 hours a week with the help of my son and his friends, as the weather becomes unkind, I am learning a lot about capacity, storms of the mind, and high quality raingear.

When the rains and the cold hit, I look to my neighbors. On my right is Hans, a sailor, who came to work in his Grundens (squeeky orange rubber raingear that keeps even the Alaskan fisherman dry) and on my left is Kristina who scored excellent raingear and boots at Goodwill. My idea of layering cotton didn’t work well so after an asthma attack at Nortwest Outdoors over the price of Grundens and backpacking rain outfits, I settle on a clear vinyl rainsuit from Target for $20. My son laughs “What is that?” “Cool, huh? By the way, you left your framing hammer in my car.” I reply.

‘To hammer like a girl’ is to control the hammer, to hold it close to the head and push it with a painfully clenched forearm. ‘To hammer like a guy’ is to hold the hammer farther on the neck and swing it, letting it fall onto the head of the nail. ‘To hammer like a god’ takes us to Thor, Nordic God of thunder. Son of Odin, he owns a short handled hammer that makes the sound of thunder when he strikes with it. He wears a magic belt which increases his strength and iron gloves to help him lift his hammer. Must be that the sounds of our community hammers pleased Thor and brought the thunder!
And, to hammer in the dark is to trust. “Jai” says Kristina to me as we try to beat the night finishing a wall, “I think I’m better at hitting the nail in the dark!” To be in the darkness requires trust, control must yield and that is not easy.

Our first day of real building sees us working on the walls of my house. After pulling more nails than I could pound in, I quelch my self-critic by stopping and watching the others. There is Ken with his mighty swing. I notice when he misses he doesn’t sway. The next hit gets it and within three or four swings the nail is in. I watch the other men, some are pulling more nails that I am. “See...” I reply to my self-critic who turns her head to pout. I settle on Hans (who I decide must be a direct descendent of Thor) as my hammering model and go to work side by side to get the swing of it. I try imitating his motions - moving my hand up the handle of the hammer, drawing the hammer up over my head, and letting it drop not caring so tightly if I actually hit the nail or not. To my surprise, BAM, a perfect strike and I feel joy tinted satisfaction at the sound of the wood parting and the nail moving a good inch. I commit myself to ‘hammer like a guy.’

Sparks fly as Hans and I move down the line of studs and hammer them into the top-plate. Ejay watches me smiling with encouragement and suggests that at the end of the building process it will be Hans and I in a hammering competition. We decide to go for it now. Hans wins, 4 strokes to my 7 but I win for most self-improved.

My mind is worse than the storm
The alarm sounds. As I draw in my first conscious breath I listen for the weather before I open my eyes. Not good - the wind is howling, the windows are shaking and my room is below zero. Looks worse when you add the visuals - sideways rain, tree debris, windows soaked from pelting rains.
My happy summer theme song for Saturdays plays in my head “Its house building day, hurray hurray, its house building day hurray.” Uggghhh. (Now I know how my son feels when he hears it.)
The weather in me worsens and my mind races down the gloom and doom track. It shows me pitted against the elements working month after month after month in weather captured in such films as “The Perfect Storm” and “Around Cape Horn”. I become weak and sick, unable to finish. The fear voices that crippled me for so long pipe up “better go back to bed and not work today.”

This is my cue to come back to reality. I think of Master NuNu. He has a fond expression for situations like this - where every ounce of courage, capacity, and perserverence are called for. These soul exursions are called “Holiday!” as he plunges in to meet the difficulty. So I get dressed, run down the stairs, grab my tool belt and four coats and shout “Holiday” as the winds whip against the opening door.

“HOLIDAY”
I have attended many ‘holidays’ with Master NuNu over the last year I have been training with him. I have followed his “Follow me...see, its not so bad” into very physical experiences of the depths of my fears, mostly hating it. Once, in a panic I ran out of the woods through a grove of salal. Later my classmates and teacher were laughing about this and asked me what happened. At that point in the ‘holiday’ I was convinced I would never get out, I had fallen into quicksand and the salal around me suddenly felt seven feet tall. In reality, it reached my knees. (I remember this that stormy day because by the time I got to the job shack, the sky was already clearing!)

So ‘holiday’ it is! Ken needs a crew to put up the blocking between the joists of what will become the floor of the second story of my house. I am uncomfortable with heights so I volunteer. My attempt at ‘Holiday’
becomes ‘holy god’ as I try to move from the ladder onto the four inch rafters. I break out in a sweat and go back down. The guys move the ladder to a place where it is easier to get up. Ken is already up top and tells me that I don’t have to do it. I tell him I am getting over a fear of heights and that I won’t be stupid but I want to try. He responds supportively to my spirit “OK, keep your center close to the wood. Climb out onto your knees. I’m right here. Keep your eyes on the board.” I make it and sit down on the large board in relief until I look down. I spend the afternoon hammering pieces of wood between the rafters, feet dangling in mid air. The only one that can hammer the center nails, I move up and down the rafters focusing my mind on the work and conspiring with my neighbors to have a surprise for Ken’s birthday. Kristina screams - “Ken just did something...” Suddenly the back of the board I am sitting on lifts up into the air as Ken pushes it up for the longest three seconds of my life. Afterward my hearty ‘holiday’ scream I lay on my back blinking at the sky laughing, feeling 100% present. (Then I begin to plot my revenge...)

Continuing to follow this philosphy of embracing the hard parts, I take the top jobs and work dangling over the edge of the second floor with a skill saw, hammeriing scraps onto small rafters in mid-air. Yesterday the temperature plummetted and the winds came gusting up. I stood up to clean up and climb down. As I rose into the high winds, my fear turned into exhilaration. Freedom is a hard fight. To wake up, to see, admit and penetrate into the dark storms of ourselves is not easy or usual. I think of a teaching of a friend of mine, “We are not here to be small and folded up, we are here to be magnificant.”

Fear has in the past made my life a prison. Qualities of negative self-talk, overly zealous self criticism, negative talk of others are the stuff the prison walls are made of. The chains are forged with regrets, lack of trust, inaction. Freedom is a choice. My son once said that “There is more capacity in the struggle for freedom than any other struggle.”

As I come to knowing the truth about myself, the old paradigm of ‘small and folded up’ conflicts with the new paradigm of ‘magnificent.’ Real change necessitates inner deaths. Its not easy, for me or for anyone. Some days my training is so difficult that even Master NuNu is driven to a wild look and grasps the hilt of his sword. But he doesn’t give up. It is another miracle of my transformation that I am surrounded by people who are invested in my strength and willing to stay with me through the painful emotional cracking of lack of confidence to the opening of my magnificence.

Through the storms of my past, the fog of my illusions, the pelting rains of my self-doubts, I am learning to swing the hammer like a god. With power & a trust so great it alters the fabric of reality, creating sparks of creation and thunderclaps of praise - and eight houses along the way. Look, its snowing! Holiday!

About the program, you can learn more about the Mutual Self-Help Housing Program at Kitsap Consolildated Housing Authority's website, www.kccha.org. The run the program for Kitsap and Jefferson Counties. The program is through the USDA's rural development program. WANNA HELP? Volunteers and groups are more than welcome to speed us on our journey. Just contact Jai at jai@earthdancepress.com.

The Blue Star Gazette

Your guide to an naturally inspired, magical lifestyle

Brought to you by a community of those involved in the healing arts. Please contact the authors and sponsors of the Blue Star Gazette on-line (www.the bluestargazette.net) and tell them you saw their work here! Don't miss an issue! Subscribe and receive each edition for only $21. Just send your editor an email and we'll get it set jai@earthdancepress.com. Feel free to call me at the office at 360-379-blue(2583).