on returning to a point of possibility

my self-concept seems to be transient. it returns to the same form before springing off in another direction (sometimes due to wishful thinking).

I was pretty sick for a few weeks. today is the best I've felt in ages! and I wish I could say that I used that down time for deep contemplation, but alas, most of my energy was devoted to struggling to get better and feeling sorry for myself that it was taking so long.

yet I have recently been recalling the sort of child and adolescent I was. maybe this contemplation is due to my being sick--sometimes we return to times in the past when little can be found in the present. in any case,  it's been interesting and a bit surprising to remember what I used to find myself preoccupied with.

for instance, when I was seven I began designing a barn on graph paper. it was nothing special, and I think I've still got multiple sheets of paper in a yellow plastic folder somewhere. I remember agonizing over whether to make the stalls 10x12 or 12x12, and where to put the washroom and barn office. on another sheet I drew a rough sketch of the barn up in the corner with the paddock extending beyond it, as if one can plan in advance for what sort of paddock they will have before even having land. it was fairly straightforward: rectangular, with a water trough and gate near the barn, but I DID round off the corners of the fence because I knew that was oh so very important so that the horses would not get trapped.

it's interesting to recall that I did this, because these days I don't consider myself very mechanically-inclined at all. it's just not my aptitude, I've told myself. but in those days I had no reason to doubt my own abilities.

I recall sitting in my room when I was just a few years older with a great urge to build something--nothing useful, just something with levers and hinges and pieces that worked together for some purpose. I never managed, not surprisingly.

these days I have a similar urge, but it's a somewhat better informed one, having spent a little time this past year on relatively simple building projects. my few days at Love Story farm working on Christine's cob cottage, building a dry-stack stone wall as a memorial for a friend in Surry County, helping put together an earthen pizza oven at a classmates house this fall--all of it leaves me wanting more. on a very primitive level I crave the texture of a good cob mixture and the feeling in my arms of hauling a big chunk of it on to the structure being built. the same can be said for stone. indeed, the physicality of it all is perhaps the most compelling--grit on the fingers, strain in the arms and back. it's so satisfying.

but these days my desire to build goes beyond a wish for a mere feeling and desire for engagement. I want to participate in building projects with my mind, not just my body. it may seem odd to draw such a distinction but I'm the sort of person who can withdraw mentally from a process and operate on a level independent of my actions. that's great when the work is repetitive--in fact, rote work seems to promote productive thought. but an absent-minded builder is no good--if I am to learn about carpentry and building with mortar and digging good foundations than I've got to tune in and pay attention.

to really do that, I must believe that I can learn what there is to learn, or my self doubt will keep me operating at a merely experiential level. ah, how I miss the naive confidence of the untested child.