According to social contract theory, humanity turned its back on unfettered liberty and placed itself under the rule of a common authority for good reason. And we of Betsy's Farm agree that governmental regulation often advances the general welfare. Whether the county inspector's ruling that the sixteen magnificent holes intended as the beginnings of our pole barn foundation were not up to snuff is an example of such advancement is unclear. It was to do with water, and to be fair water is the inveterate enemy of structural foundations. But the water was transient, and anyhow concrete sets up just fine underwater. Think about all those bridge pillars! In fact, since hydration is critical to the chemical reaction that gives concrete its strength, concrete that cures while submerged is arguably stronger for it. Nevertheless, our plan required a cure of its own, according to Haywood County, which would have to be provided by an engineer. And although we're not Do It Yourself absolutists, the idea of hiring an engineering gave us pause. During this pause, Dale Green of Pigeon Valley Septic and Grading, who lives on our road and installed our septic, stopped by. He's a smart guy and his line of work involves engineering-think. So we asked him about the sixteen holes. After giving the matter a considered tilt of the head, he suggested we bulldoze and regrade the works, then put in a straight footer and block foundation. It would be as efficient as bringing the sixteen holes in line with code, while also permitting installation of an insulated slab all the sooner.
Deep in our prevailing cultural paradigm is belief in progress--its importance, its very necessity, and its attainment through work. Work, work work. According to one of our stories this tiresome state of affairs is a punishment:
"Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life.
It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken;
for dust you are and to dust you will return." (Genesis 3:17-19, New Int'l Version)
It is hard to undo work one has done. Frustration, annoyance at oneself and others, a kind of illness with the whole enterprise (how stupid to even think of making a farm!), flower up. But there are other stories, alternatives to the "progress or die" worldview. I suppose the creation and destruction of sand mandalas (10 days condensed into 3 minutes here) practiced by Tibetan monks is an apt reminder of an alternative, since we're on the topic of building (or trying to build) a barn. All is fleeting when looked at from the right perspective. Investment in accomplishment, even in something as paltry as a few holes in the ground, is bound to lead to suffering. So...might as well take a gander at the pigeons heading home for their evening roost, then hire the guy to plow in your holes, and start over. Which is what we did.
Deep in our prevailing cultural paradigm is belief in progress--its importance, its very necessity, and its attainment through work. Work, work work. According to one of our stories this tiresome state of affairs is a punishment:
"Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat food from it all the days of your life.
It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field.
By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken;
for dust you are and to dust you will return." (Genesis 3:17-19, New Int'l Version)
It is hard to undo work one has done. Frustration, annoyance at oneself and others, a kind of illness with the whole enterprise (how stupid to even think of making a farm!), flower up. But there are other stories, alternatives to the "progress or die" worldview. I suppose the creation and destruction of sand mandalas (10 days condensed into 3 minutes here) practiced by Tibetan monks is an apt reminder of an alternative, since we're on the topic of building (or trying to build) a barn. All is fleeting when looked at from the right perspective. Investment in accomplishment, even in something as paltry as a few holes in the ground, is bound to lead to suffering. So...might as well take a gander at the pigeons heading home for their evening roost, then hire the guy to plow in your holes, and start over. Which is what we did.
