I climbed up on the branch and twine scaffolding, worked beside the masons, and filled spaces with mortar. Two sides of the house are to their top height. It’s really incredible building this house brick by brick. The masons are very kind and patient with all of us. Really patient. Incredibly kind.
Everyone is being generous with their personal space and graceful in accepting the bits of mortar that seem to flick onto your work partner’s shirt or chin. I feel beautiful choosing to be this patient and receiving it in return.
I’m standing at the belt of the world that holds in our swollen belly. Swollen from food and lack of food. Swollen bellies connected to beating hearts.
Strong beats to the drum’s true rhythm. Strong beats matching the Love Truth that rightfully challenges pop love in our culture – the one that heats up fast in oil and flame – bursting into fluff like kernels of corn. No.
Truth Love – that truly courses through our veins – that charts courses between heart, mind, soul, and feet.
Barefeet. Souled-feet.
Toes that push through the red mud and heels that kick up red dust. Red dirt that holds up our playing children and working friends. The red that gives life to life crops and forms the brick that builds our houses.
Our home.
The red that finds our home back to our heart. That connects my heart to yours and my red-stained socks back to America. The Brooklyn washing machine can’t rid red stains left in my heart.
Connected to house and home.
On the belly of the World. From out of the belly of the Whale.
Peace and blessings for all of us.
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