“ Resistance to what is creates the suffering.”
~ Buddha
It’s funny how clarity can come to me from a restless night’s sleep. How every waking moment, I am aware of a relentless mantra of thought, plaguing me with some responsibility to do something about it.
Clearly, this morning the message is about “letting go of the Barnwood”.
This summer we have been fortunate to finally remodel our (my) bathroom. It is the last room to be renovated of the original summer cabin built in the 1940’s. We have made cosmetic enhancements to the bathroom over the past 31 years, yet for the most part, it has remained limited and archaic.
I’ve had a lot of time to imagine how I’d like my bathroom to be. You know some of our best thinking is done in that room. In addition to a larger walk-in shower with a seat, a floor that is level and a two sink vanity withdrawers, my primary focus has been on the decor.
I knew I wanted bold, dramatic granite, stones on the floor of the shower, copper sinks, and lots of rock and wood. Barnwood, that is!
Growing up as a “cowgirl” in Colorado, I have always had a fondness for Barnwood. I love the stories inherent in the wood, the connection to earth and animals, and the transformation it makes over time.
My Grandfather had a farm with a barn in Illinois. My younger sister and I had horses as kids and loved “growing up in a barn”. My two Andrew Wyeth prints, Wind from the Sea, and Christina’s World I’ve had since I was a teenager are treasures especially because they are framed in Barnwood.
Finding the Barnwood for this project was quite the task. I discovered the best and closet resource on Craig’s List. It had already been a full day when we headed out in Danny’s big truck to locate the Barnwood guy’s property. Though our destination was nearly two hours southeast of Evergreen, we were grateful for an evening without rain and enjoyed the lush green scenery and colorful sky.
Eureka! The Barnwood Guy had a hillside stacked with choices. While battling giant mosquitos and our urgency to complete our mission, we diligently combed through the selection. When the last of the perfect Barnwood was loaded into the truck, we headed home feeling exhausted yet triumphant!
For the next two weeks the Barnwood was milled into desired widths and sections ready for use. On schedule the wood and two beautiful custom doors were delivered. I literally danced around from my excitement!
Yet I couldn’t help but notice the prevalent chemical odor that waifed through the front door as the wood presented itself on the driveway.
Although I tried to make light of it, we could all smell the heavy creosote that had been unleashed by the milling.
We discussed various ways to clean or seal the wood to eliminate the problem. At last we stored the doors in the garage and looked to the morning for answers.
All night I experienced a nagging, aching feeling of impending doom.
Bryan was up by the time I wandered out at 4:15 am. Together we sat on the couch not talking about the thing that laid heavy on our hearts. I finally shared about the night I had and my major concerns regarding the odor. From his iPad, he quickly shared with me the nasty facts he had learned about creosote.
What a relief it was to hear the gravity of this information. There was nothing left to hold on to! There were no more questions to be asked.
The truth of this beautiful Barnwood was that it could be used outside only, and that was that.
This truth freed me of my resistance, allowed me to accept the situation, and opened me up to new possibilities.
Eventually I would choose rough cut cedar to make its stand in our bathroom. Its’ fresh, earthy, woody aroma helps me celebrate the joy that comes from acceptance.
PONDER THIS. . .
What have you reluctantly let go of that opened you up to the joy of acceptance?
Please share your thoughts in the comment section below.
