From a young age, I was keenly aware that how I thought about and approached life differed vastly from my peers and family. I often found myself studying people and their responses in different social situations. Part of this practice felt wrong- like I was a spy on a super top-secret mission to learn how to behave like a normal human being. Needless to say, that mission has yet to be fruitful, and over time I have come to accept that I will never be able to operate in all of the ways that are deemed normal. Maybe sometimes- but certainly not all the time. Just recently- as I am approaching my mid 30’s I am learning to be not just okay with that- but actually comfortable with it.
I often find it challenging to relate deeply with others because so much of what we are taught to do is lie- about how you are feeling, about your day. Small talk has always seemed like a carefully curated container of falsehoods that I wanted no part in. In the past, I spent so much of my time questioning the intentions of others. This is because so often people’s words don’t align with their energy. Why is it so hard for us to tell the truth? Being a truth seeker in this world is rife with pain and confusion if you are not grounded within yourself.
One thing that I often tell people that ask me about my life up until now- is that those who know me know that I have lived many lives in this lifetime. I grew up at the intersection, (at times crossfire) of many conflicting agendas. For the most part, I grew up in rural Southern Illinois born to a white mother with Southern Baptist roots from what is known as Wyoming in Blackfeet Territory. My father, as far as I know (and that’s not much) is a native black man with roots to what is known as Southern Tennessee and Mississippi in unseated Choctaw and Quapaw Territory. I do not know my father’s side of the family, but I do hope that will change in time. My mothers family is racist, homophobic, and utterly intolerable. I am the blackest of black sheep in their eyes. Despite the fact that her entire family did well for themselves, we were poor.
Being raised in poverty gives you a different sort of outlook on life. The ability to look beyond what is on the surface and see the layers and the nuance. Creation is born out of necessity. You learn how to make more with less, to make things stretch. You find new ways to repurpose the old and bring life back to things others might just discard. To this day I have a gut reaction to throwing away food. Even if I know that it is spoiled beyond use. It physically hurts to waste it, and so much of that was tied to my relationship with survival growing up. My need or desire to not waste was often riddled with shame. Now I see that some really positive and effective systems I have today were born from some really negative experiences in my life and for that, I can be thankful. Often I think society measures success by how much you can afford to waste. Bigger, bolder, more extravagant- but to what end?
I started this part of my journey as an Urban Farmer in St Louis. I was operating the farm mostly alone and I was making no money. I realized that I needed infrastructure to expand and keep moving and after some research, realized that hiring someone was completely out of the question and I would have to learn as much as I could myself. I had some experience in the trades up to that point but mostly just demolition, helper tasks, and building simple garden boxes. Enter my first teacher, Paul. A master builder and furniture maker this guy was good. Real good. He was also getting older and looking for someone to pass his knowledge down to while building his dream Tiny Home. The timing and alignment were perfect. We needed each other and we both learned a lot. Over the course of my time there I was introduced to methods that dated back centuries, up until the present day and my world exploded. I won’t say that I forgot about farming. I will always return to the land in that way- but I took a HARD pivot FAST. Still to this day when I look back on our time together things that he taught me are still processing and downloading. The more that I learn the more I am able to recall and integrate my teachings. I grew out of that place- as we do and had to move on. I am learning still that you can honor what you’ve learned from others without allowing their journey and their process to take up too much real estate in your mind. It can be a challenging line to walk, but the lesson for me has consistently been that honoring myself always produces my best result.
I’ve worked for many companies who have done beautiful work in their own right- but at what cost? I learned so much about systems during my time in residential new construction. Mostly that a great system cannot actually be great if the harm that it causes significantly outweighs the benefit or the end product. Watching wildlife being actively displaced. and angry red-faced men yelling at ducks and all but running them over for crossing a road (one that we literally just built) where the forest used to be with a lake view. Those views we are parceling for a million plus a pop. It made my soul scream in ways I’ve yet to find the words for. But damn those stupid ducks right? Not to mention the tons and tons of waste we are constantly trucking out- a lot of it not really waste at all. It’s infuriating- we have these big brains and all of this individual and collective power and this is how we are using it?
No one else ever seemed too bothered, and if they were they never talked about it. I would look around and see no one like me. Not black, not queer, not a tree-loving snowflake in sight. That’s not to say I never found common ground with my peers, on the contrary- it was mandatory to find something to maintain my sanity. BUT where are MY people? and why aren’t they here? The answers to that question have painfully revealed themselves over time. Some are obvious- others maybe not so much. I will dig deeper into and unpack those reasons here as I continue this journey.
Historically, or as they tell it at least- building is a space for men. It is hard work and requires brute strength and the ability to totally disregard your body’s needs and warning signs to complete the mission at hand. Even in the midst of pain and discomfort… but does it really?
Who decided? Not me and I would like to opt out of that narrative. I work hard. I am very physically strong, but my mental strength is one of my greatest. I am also tender. I don’t have to kill myself to do great work. None of us do. I can get easily overstimulated and appreciate gentle direct communication in the environments I spend the most time in. I also need space to articulate myself in ways that aren’t foreign to me. I have yet to find a space where that is accessible for me and I know many of us feel the same. I know that when I have the space to do the things I need to care for myself, I do my best work and am the most connected to others.
Imagine a world where we could all have our ideal set and setting. Now imagine all that we could collectively accomplish if we all showed up equipped and ready to put our best selves forward.
That is the world I am building for myself and others who have struggled to find a place to dream, create, and contribute while living in their whole entire truth.
What is your ideal set and setting? In what ways are you showing up in your daily life that don’t align with your spirit? How can you cultivate more experiences that align with your true nature?
*This post was originally written July 30, 2023
DRIFTWOOD ALCHEMY 