This summer, we laid out our house for the second time. The first time we did it was 1.5 years prior and came just before my body shut down as a message to me about misalignment—something I had to trust, even though I knew it would confuse and disappoint others involved at that time.
Over a year later, we were out there again, getting ready to break ground as soon as we get permission. I am not a woman who likes to ask for permission, especially when it comes to the land I so deeply respect, so this bureaucratic process has been one of non-attachment and trust.
When my grandmother passed away, she began showing up for me in various places in my home, and I realized the profound impact she had on my life and my purpose now. She appears in coffee mugs, the taste of nectarines, jars of apricot jam, rolling chairs, kitchen rags wrung out with soap and water, bread boards, sauvignon blanc, and the way my son say’s, “awesome.”
To name a few.
She also shows up as a dragonfly. When I paid for one of our permits, a dragonfly flew right up to me when I arrived at the building department. When I left, there were two dragonflies, and I knew it was my grandparents stopping by for a moment to say, “Good work.”
It’s because of them that I am able to realize this dream. Their hard work preceding the devotion and hard work of my father is why I can build a sacred home for my children in hopes to continue their legacy and honor all of their sacrifices and secret unrealized dreams.
And so, after four years of holding this project in my heart and on paper, we begin bringing it into this world of matter.
This will be the first hemp house built where I live and my prayer is that it will help shift the culture around building. Raising awareness around building with healthy materials that can someday return to the earth.