before I could finish the roof of the shed. I worry that it is causing the particle board floor to delaminate, but there is really little that I can do about it, so shouldn't worry excessively. I will be able to get the roof done today, with the exception of the shingling. That will need to wait until I return from Salt Lake, but it should be water proof.
I am not looking forward to the trip to Salt Lake. I believe I have let go of the life there and do want to move on, and being there will, of course, bring it all back into the foreground. Life is too ephemeral to spend it dwelling on the past, or the future for that matter, better to think about building a shed.
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
Better Day
I made progress on the shed. I was not happy with the roof trusses that I had made before, in part because they extended too high and brought too much attention to the building. It's a shed, not a cathedral or stupa, and the previous roof trusses would have extended the building upward with an interior height of over ten feet, higher than most of the ceilings in the house. Lora is right. I do tend to over think things, which means, in essence, that I tend to over-think them from a very particular intentionality, which means, in turn, that I tend to over-look other potential intentionalities that I might have pursued.
The intentionality governing the project initially was simple -- to maximize the internal space of the shed, not only in its footprint, but also vertically. So the trusses I designed had a four foot peak, with a cross beam at the two foot mark. Since the external walls were 83 and 1/2 inches tall, that meant the total height of the building was just slightly over 11 foot high. The intentionality I over-looked was also simple -- unobtrusiveness. The 11 foot height would have put the building about five foot above the fence line, making it altogether too visible from the street. It seems that the two intentionalities are not entirely compatible. There is no compromise, or best-of-both-worlds, or ideal synthesis to solve the dilemma, not that I could imagine at any rate. Space is space. It is such as it is, and to maximize the internal space meant to make a much more obtrusive building vertically.
I chose to make the building less obtrusive, which meant redesigning the roof trusses to a two foot peak. There are a couple of other advantages to this as well. The trusses are much less heavy, which will make putting them in place much less difficult. Also, the roof is pitched much less, which will make sheathing and shingling it much less difficult. A good choice in the end. One value, unobtrusiveness, produces other values, ease.
The intentionality governing the project initially was simple -- to maximize the internal space of the shed, not only in its footprint, but also vertically. So the trusses I designed had a four foot peak, with a cross beam at the two foot mark. Since the external walls were 83 and 1/2 inches tall, that meant the total height of the building was just slightly over 11 foot high. The intentionality I over-looked was also simple -- unobtrusiveness. The 11 foot height would have put the building about five foot above the fence line, making it altogether too visible from the street. It seems that the two intentionalities are not entirely compatible. There is no compromise, or best-of-both-worlds, or ideal synthesis to solve the dilemma, not that I could imagine at any rate. Space is space. It is such as it is, and to maximize the internal space meant to make a much more obtrusive building vertically.
I chose to make the building less obtrusive, which meant redesigning the roof trusses to a two foot peak. There are a couple of other advantages to this as well. The trusses are much less heavy, which will make putting them in place much less difficult. Also, the roof is pitched much less, which will make sheathing and shingling it much less difficult. A good choice in the end. One value, unobtrusiveness, produces other values, ease.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Welcoming Sorrow
I am pleased that Charles Wright was selected as the poet laureate. It strikes me that there has been a strain of American thought that closely resembles buddhist thought -- a "strain," of course, because it must row forward countervailing the main current of American culture. I read this yesterday:
Who among us can welcome sorrow, or the
sadness of dirt?
Well, empty yourself of all that, empty yourself
of yourself.
There are some things that cannot be spoken of,
or thought about.
It is from his latest book, Caribou, and I am sure would provoke reaction from a culture that begins with the Disney channel's on-going advice to adolescents to "follow their dream" or the more adult version Joseph Campbell version of "follow your bliss" It seems the dream desired most is one that results in the on-going adulation of the dreamer, or the one exploited over and over, has one becoming a pop star and evolving into a certified pop tart like the Miley Cyrus's and the Justin Bieber's of the world. It is a cultural affirmation of narcissism, of the most mundane "I did it my way" sort, that is quickly eroticized, not advice that prepares one to welcome the sorrow of the day-to-day, and there is no stay against sorrow.
I did not make progress on the shed yesterday. Lora was returning from Michigan where she attended a wedding, with our granddaughter She spent the week with her sister. They are, whether they wish to admit it or not, more alike than not. Both want to control their environments, including the others in the environment, and neither can do so. I won't speak for her sister, but Lora quickly feels over-whelmed when things don't quite go the way she would like, because she must re-calculate and compensate for the uncooperative ebb and flow of her surround. I mention this because she did not like the shed when she saw it. From her perspective, "we had discussed it," and I had gone off, "over-planned it," the result being nothing like what she imagined. Well, we had discussed it briefly, and I had planned it to match her vision, or so I thought, but apparently I misjudged what she had wanted for a "green house on one end." I had not followed her dream, but rather my own mis-aligned dream of a shed. I was disappointed at her disappointment, because a good deal of work had gone into the thing, so her return home was strained. A minor sorrow in the cosmi-comic scheme of things, but an unwelcome sorrow nevertheless, and if we are to break the circle of disappointment, one or the other of us must let go of the disappointment.
Who among us can welcome sorrow, or the
sadness of dirt?
Well, empty yourself of all that, empty yourself
of yourself.
There are some things that cannot be spoken of,
or thought about.
It is from his latest book, Caribou, and I am sure would provoke reaction from a culture that begins with the Disney channel's on-going advice to adolescents to "follow their dream" or the more adult version Joseph Campbell version of "follow your bliss" It seems the dream desired most is one that results in the on-going adulation of the dreamer, or the one exploited over and over, has one becoming a pop star and evolving into a certified pop tart like the Miley Cyrus's and the Justin Bieber's of the world. It is a cultural affirmation of narcissism, of the most mundane "I did it my way" sort, that is quickly eroticized, not advice that prepares one to welcome the sorrow of the day-to-day, and there is no stay against sorrow.
I did not make progress on the shed yesterday. Lora was returning from Michigan where she attended a wedding, with our granddaughter She spent the week with her sister. They are, whether they wish to admit it or not, more alike than not. Both want to control their environments, including the others in the environment, and neither can do so. I won't speak for her sister, but Lora quickly feels over-whelmed when things don't quite go the way she would like, because she must re-calculate and compensate for the uncooperative ebb and flow of her surround. I mention this because she did not like the shed when she saw it. From her perspective, "we had discussed it," and I had gone off, "over-planned it," the result being nothing like what she imagined. Well, we had discussed it briefly, and I had planned it to match her vision, or so I thought, but apparently I misjudged what she had wanted for a "green house on one end." I had not followed her dream, but rather my own mis-aligned dream of a shed. I was disappointed at her disappointment, because a good deal of work had gone into the thing, so her return home was strained. A minor sorrow in the cosmi-comic scheme of things, but an unwelcome sorrow nevertheless, and if we are to break the circle of disappointment, one or the other of us must let go of the disappointment.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
New Beginning on the Same Path
I have been thinking of late about the particularity of life. It is the profound sense of revelation which comes when we become fully aware of the obvious. We each lead a particular life -- always just this life, and not that life. We meander through life until we reach a nexus, a point where the path ahead diverges, and we become conscious of a choice. We can, of course, choose to sit still, refuse to travel on, and there is a certain attractiveness to just sitting, but ultimately movement is life, and most of us choose the movement of life, the travel and travail. So the choice is before us, left or right, and we know that to choose one is to let go of the other, and we know as well that letting go of the path not chosen can be difficult.
All of this is a very abstract way of saying that I have decided to retire. Political shenanigans (the perfect word in this particular case -- shenanigans) brought me to a fork in the path. I could stay in my post as the provost at Salt Lake Community College, and there was some pressure to do so, but there are certain things up with which I cannot put. There is a difference between practicing humility, and enduring humiliation, and to stay would have meant enduring humiliation, a particular form of duhka, or an intentional suffering, a fully conscious acceptance of dookey as one's lot. There's little sense in that, particularly when one has other options. I chose instead to retire, but that means letting go of the ambition to become a college president as well as an income that allowed us to live carelessly with money. The choice was not as difficult as I might, on occasion, make it out to be. Although I do believe I would have been a good president, I would have been a different kind of president, and the club of presidentia is all about diversity just so long as the diversity centers on differences that make no real difference. I did want to be president, but I didn't want to join the club, and I'm sure the membership intuited my various rejections of them and in turn rejected me.
I am only a month down the new path, but already the old path seems distant enough to be, well, irrelevant to my current concerns. I am building a shed. At least I'm calling it a shed. It's more an outbuilding, a full 8 x 16 foot outbuilding. There is a purpose behind the shed. We have purchased a home in Mountain Home, our own private piece of Idaho. It's small, but really perfect for Lora and me, with a room for Lora's crafts and a full size garage for my endeavors, but there is little in the way of storage for Christmas decorations, for the bikes, for the lawn mower, shovels, rakes and various yard tools, for the paraphernalia of life. The shed allows the garage to be free of storage and free for my shop. Not immediately, but perhaps by next spring, it will also be, at one end, a green house. A place to start seedlings. We plan on displacing most of the lawn with raised vegetable beds. I will save the technical description for later, when I have a camera to assist me, but in the meantime
Peace and Potatoes for All
As an aside, I really don't imagine a broad readership for this blog. I am thinking of it more as a journal as Thoreau must have thought of his journal, but then, too, not exactly an exercise in "journaling." It strikes me that "journaling" is too much self-involvement for the sake of self-involvement. The "blog" allows me to maintain the illusion that I'm speaking to someone other than myself. Also, now that I am no longer publicly employed, or won't be by August 31st, I no long feel constrained in what I do or do not say publicly. I no longer need concern myself with how my differences appear to the club of presidentia, or the faculty of my college, or my fellow academic administrators, or anyone else for that matter.
All of this is a very abstract way of saying that I have decided to retire. Political shenanigans (the perfect word in this particular case -- shenanigans) brought me to a fork in the path. I could stay in my post as the provost at Salt Lake Community College, and there was some pressure to do so, but there are certain things up with which I cannot put. There is a difference between practicing humility, and enduring humiliation, and to stay would have meant enduring humiliation, a particular form of duhka, or an intentional suffering, a fully conscious acceptance of dookey as one's lot. There's little sense in that, particularly when one has other options. I chose instead to retire, but that means letting go of the ambition to become a college president as well as an income that allowed us to live carelessly with money. The choice was not as difficult as I might, on occasion, make it out to be. Although I do believe I would have been a good president, I would have been a different kind of president, and the club of presidentia is all about diversity just so long as the diversity centers on differences that make no real difference. I did want to be president, but I didn't want to join the club, and I'm sure the membership intuited my various rejections of them and in turn rejected me.
I am only a month down the new path, but already the old path seems distant enough to be, well, irrelevant to my current concerns. I am building a shed. At least I'm calling it a shed. It's more an outbuilding, a full 8 x 16 foot outbuilding. There is a purpose behind the shed. We have purchased a home in Mountain Home, our own private piece of Idaho. It's small, but really perfect for Lora and me, with a room for Lora's crafts and a full size garage for my endeavors, but there is little in the way of storage for Christmas decorations, for the bikes, for the lawn mower, shovels, rakes and various yard tools, for the paraphernalia of life. The shed allows the garage to be free of storage and free for my shop. Not immediately, but perhaps by next spring, it will also be, at one end, a green house. A place to start seedlings. We plan on displacing most of the lawn with raised vegetable beds. I will save the technical description for later, when I have a camera to assist me, but in the meantime
Peace and Potatoes for All
As an aside, I really don't imagine a broad readership for this blog. I am thinking of it more as a journal as Thoreau must have thought of his journal, but then, too, not exactly an exercise in "journaling." It strikes me that "journaling" is too much self-involvement for the sake of self-involvement. The "blog" allows me to maintain the illusion that I'm speaking to someone other than myself. Also, now that I am no longer publicly employed, or won't be by August 31st, I no long feel constrained in what I do or do not say publicly. I no longer need concern myself with how my differences appear to the club of presidentia, or the faculty of my college, or my fellow academic administrators, or anyone else for that matter.
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