Build something

In my earnest online and analog social circles these days, everyone is writing and talking about the need to build connections, networks, and community as an antidote and rebellion against fascism. They are correct! You should, to the best of your ability, build out a web of relationships you can lean into and on. You should show up for people, and let people show up for you. Individualism, “pull yourself up by your bootstraps”, solitary cowboys, and lone heroes are all nonsense, just propaganda to keep us isolated and easily controlled.

We are meant to exist in community. Community is solace, protection, and power.

But building community isn’t what I’m advocating for today. I’m talking about building something you can actually hold, or touch, or climb inside of. It could be whimsical— a fairy house or a swing hanging from a tree— if whimsy is your jam. But there is a particular satisfaction in making something useful, practical even. A shelf, a bench perhaps, or the perfect wooden spoon.

You could knit or crochet a hat or scarf, weave a blanket, sew a quilt, model a bowl out of clay. It doesn’t have to be from scratch, either. Upcycling is great! Turn old bottles into vases, old fabric into clothes or pillow covers, old pots and pans into planters on your porch. For awhile, back in the day, I used to make new sweaters pieced together out of old sweaters because, why not? A friend once made a coffee table out of an upended toilet bowl, with a kissy face painted around the outlet hole and a found glass top. It lived in my living room until I moved back East and my ex insisted the toilet table couldn’t come. I still miss that toilet table.

In my twenties (the toilet table era), I spent several years as an aspiring studio potter. Some of my friends still have the wonky mugs, bowls, and cookie jars to prove it. I love writing. It’s the creative outlet that has stuck around the longest of anything I’ve ever set my mind to, but it never quite scratches the same itch. Reading through a finished essay on my screen, I feel deep satisfaction at having found the perfect turn of phrase to language a feeling, but I don’t ever think with the same sense of triumphant wonder, Wow, I made that!

Only very occasionally, when a reader reflects back to me unexpectedly that something I wrote meant something or helped them in some way, does my writing feel useful for anyone other than me. And I don’t know about you, but building and making scratches an itch that never leaves me— to marry beauty with being of use.

I love modern amenities as much as the next person. Going to restaurants and movies! My dishwasher! My KitchenAid! My kids are my favorite thing I got out of my marriage, but my KitchenAid is a close second.

Still, solely being a user and consumer leaves me adrift. And when I’ve been spending too much time on screens or in my head— thinking, spinning, wondering, worrying— the best thing to do to get my feet back on the ground, calm the fuck down, and remember who I am, is to build or make something both beautiful and useful.

My pop!

Father’s Day happened recently, which led me to thinking about my dad. He was a good man, my dad, and a complicated one. For me, he was more often a source of stress and disappointment than protection or comfort. But I’ll tell you what, my dad could build with the best of them— houses, furniture, the perfect wooden kitchen tool.

Once, when I was about 7 or 8 years old, my dad had to stay home with my older brother while the rest of us headed off to a family camp weekend because David was on the tail end of recovery from chicken pox. We were only gone for three or four days, but when we came home the two of them had built an entire treehouse in our backyard, complete with real glass windows that opened and closed, a shingled roof, and a spiral staircase around the trunk up to the porch. It was pure, gorgeous magic. And also useful! For play and sleepovers, and even once for my brother Paul to live in when our folks kicked him out of the house.

I don’t know if my dad felt the same sense of release from the storm inside his head when he built things that I do. It never occurred to me to ask, and I don’t know if he would have told me if I had. But I’m grateful he raised me to be a builder and maker, providing me with the roadmap to those moments of relief and satisfaction. To be a woman who’s more comfortable with a circular saw than a curling iron. Who’s favorite recent purchase was a chainsaw.

Y’all, that Husqvarna chainsaw! She is a thing of beauty.

Sort of like this…

Life is rough out here right now. We need to be building community, to survive the present and seed the future. But we also need to be building and making things (useful things! beautiful things! playful things!) in order to climb back inside our bodies, remember who we are, and what we’re capable of.

I need that, anyway. So, starting tomorrow, I’m on vacation for two weeks. I’ll be spending that time building a baby A-frame on the land I share with my son, not unlike the one in the picture above. It will provide me with a bolt-hole in the woods for overnights while I’m still living in town and working full-time. It will provide a place to write and dream and be alone, which is necessary for my sanity, and harder now that my niece has moved in with me to finish high school.

When I eventually start the build on my big cabin (14 X 30, with a covered porch and a sleeping loft), it’ll give me a place to crash when the days run long. Once the big cabin is built, it’ll give me space for guests. And my kids and friends will undoubtedly use it when they need a getaway, too. Maybe even this summer.

Coming to town? Want to crash in a funny little wooden tent? Let me know.

I can’t build my baby A alone, so I’ve had to ask for help. Did you know that learning to ask for and offer help is one of the most important skills in building community? It’s true. So, I’m inadvertently killing two birds with one stone. Or building two nests with one pile of wood and some screws. Or something to that effect.

My dad’s been gone for nearly fourteen years now, which is a shame because he would be so excited to help with this build. He’ll be there, though, along with all the friends and kids that come out to lend a hand. Our ancestors come with us wherever we go. They’re part of our community, too.

Since I’ll be busy building, I’m not publishing a newsletter next week. I’ll be filming the whole build for my paying subscribers, though. So, get in on that action if you’re curious. I’ll post the videos in July, once I get back.

The July 4th holiday in the hands of the current administration is likely to be a doozy this year, friends. Stay safe if you’re in the U.S. Hold us in the Light if you’re not.

XO,

Asha