​

I showed him this video from this summer's Working Song ---
as we sing Laurence's song,
   "Busy yourself making beauty,
    busy yourself making love,
    busy yourself making friendship,
    and everything else will work out,"
​--- Mike is heartened. 

​He says, on the ferry, people used to talk to each other, play games, and now everywhere you look people are on their phones. But here we are, building the culture of working together again!
"Keep up the good work!" He says. 

​Seeing these old videos of the Railroad Gandydancers is inspiring, and also humbling. We are doing good work for sure, and we have a ways to go, continuing, as we engage in this work as free people. We can make it the norm for us to work together again, to talk with each other again, to sing with each other again, and with every generation, better than before. With every generation, more just than before. With every generation more beautiful, and more healing. People have always -- long before the railroads, long before slavery -- done this, this work of singing together, of working together, of being together. Sometimes to merely cope with the grief of life and the need to live and work despite the circumstances. Sometimes out of pure joy. Sometimes more seen than others, but it has never died, and it will never die. We can only be carriers, continuing to use these tools we have to create a better world, every day, today, right now. 

We have a long ways to go. Let's keep working.

Here is two more recent videos of some working-and-singing together, as we prepare and install an earthen floor at the Port Townsend Ecovillage. 

​​The opportunity to work on this project came at a turbulent time for me... things were stressful, and I realized I needed a daily practice and could think of only one thing that I really wanted to do every day --- swim in the ocean. Day One of this personal commitment, members of the Ecovillage were also at the beach, at our regular swim spot. They expressed a need for help with their earthen floors. I happened to be out of work for the rest of the month. 

While I was an answer to their immediate prayers, they were an answer to a specific prayer I made back in the spring, for clients who would offer my opportunities within my skillset where we would create something beautiful on their land with people I love. 

The whole project has been full of mutually beneficial expressions. A consistent stream of angels passing through Port Townsend have put their love and song into the mud. Thanks especially to Marlow, Searra, and Liat, helping hands from out of town, Dan for your commitment to helping with what ever is happening, and Gretchen for your neighborly enthusiasm. Thanks also to the crew of a dozen or so friends who helped us harvest clay that had fallen from the high cliffs down onto the beach where we swim (and I'm so grateful we only got a warning and not a ticket for our illicit activities!) Thanks for Terri & Jim for being amazing people, coordinating the whole project and working harder than anyone, and being open to collaboration, and for Bekka entrusting us to work on your room. To everyone who brought and taught and sang songs. It's an honor to work with all of you. This project has had a lot of ups and down and I'm proud of us for persisting and finding solutions through trial-and-error-and-error-and-embracing-the-process-and-error-and-working-and-success. 

The floor is dry and ready for oil this week. 

One more story I'd like to share from this job site. 

Yesterday was a slow day, mostly at spent at home, contemplating, grieving, creek swimming, sun laying. I finally came to work in the late afternoon. I was there about ten minutes, making a whole bunch of noise chopping straw with a weed whacker. At some moment, I looked up and saw a huge heron walking across the lumber pile. Ha! I couldn't contain myself... since the weed whacker was then off, I yelled, "What are you DOING here? You're so beautiful!" It was the closest I've ever been to heron, the pleating dark and white neck feathers, the subtle colours, the graceful movements of its neck. I called Jim out of the house to see, and it didn't pay us much mind as we kept our distance enough.

With my yelling out of the way, I followed silently for some time and my heart felt like it was generating a bubble of happiness the size of the entire neighborhood block. The heron walked the rest of the lumber, back to the foam insulation, across the sand pile (I'm peeking around the big machine of a mortar mixer to see it), around the house, and through the neighbor's garden, finally flying over me toward the swing set... all in hot sunny-September dry-land. How unusual! Earth and its creatures know just the right medicine needed for these kinds of days; awe and a little bit of humour. A heron on a lumber pile. Hearing protection and respirator dangling off my face. Unexpected and odd beauty. Goodness. 

I have been oscillating much recently with the work-track I've gotten myself on or into, somehow, busy with building projects. I often doubt that this - building - is really what I'm "supposed" to be doing. I feel like Jaber Crowe, in the novel by Wendall Berry, who comes upon barbership in his life pretty much by continuous happenstance.

But I think I made peace with doing building projects; there is no need to force another way of being in the world prematurely. This is good, how it is, now. I used to hesitate when I would say, "I'm a builder." Am I? I'm a poet. Am I? I'm an astrologer. Am I? I'm an organizer. Am I? I'm a gardener. Am I? I'm a griever. A healer. Who am I? 

And it's clearer to me now: it is much easier to manifest a feeling than an actual thing, a path, a picture. And the feelings of working with people who value song, ritual, deep connection, grief, patience, healing, love... this is coming to me through the building world - to my surprise? Not really, surprise, but sort of surprise. Definitely humble delight. Now I say, "I'm a builder," and underneath my words, I know what I mean. I mean something literal, and I mean that I doubt myself sometimes and that's okay. I mean I build with and share my life with people who value song, ritual, deep connection, grief, patience, healing, and love. And it's maybe just for now, and it's certainly only one part of me. But it is a reflection of all of me, and all of us, and we're doing it well, as well as we can. 

I am - we all are - souls in a body, growing slowly. We are always in a continuous state of becoming. Becoming ourselves. Coming home to ourselves. We are messy and ungraceful and full of boundless creativity. And we're here to grow. To bump into each other and learn from each other, honor each other, let go of each other, embrace each other, be alone, be together, sing, dance, yell, sit, express, silence.

And we absolutely need each other, to hear each other's stories, to work together to protect our Home. To fight for our Home. To stand up for what we know is right of us, right for Earth, right for water, air, soil, people, creatures of all kinds. We need each other to do this. 

​It all reminds me, magic exists everywhere, every day, every way, with every one.
​Singing thanks.

Hey there -- things picked up this summer and I've been working 7 days a week, or traveling away from home. The business aspects of this wild idea of Placecraft are taking off, sometimes running way ahead of me! It has been, at times, overwhelming. Overall, I'm glad about it. I've got a wonderful feeling about winter, sing-ins and craft-ins  with friends, family, and community already bringing us together this autumn. But is is autumn yet? Today it is October 22 and I took off all my sweater layers, it's sunny and hot. Our draught year continues. 

​
Here's some summer photo updates, for a taste of all the clay:

The first set of photos is from a small earthen floor installation just up the mountain from Discovery Bay. This floor cracked a lot and was a good learning experience for me, both because I had to fix the cracking problem, and also because it was the first project I've been the lead builder on in the Jefferson County area. I'm realizing, in a way, this project kicked off my busy summer of mud, and a growth spurt in the business. 

​
The next set of photos is from the First Annual Port Townsend Village Building Convergence.

​
​Can't-stop-us, the weekend after the Port Townsend Village Building Convergence was completed, we jumped right into Cob-N-Straw building series on Marrowstone Island (my new home!). We made two cob walls, two straw-clay walls, and finished the building with an interior clay plaster and exterior lime plaster. The final coat of exterior lime plaster will go on in the spring, after the first coat has has plenty of time to cure. I feel so proud of all of us. Some people came and went only for an hour, others stayed every single work party weekend. Nearly forty different people worked on this wonderful little house, including a few handfuls of kids. This place is full of joy and song. Thank you all so much!

This is the first project in which I took on a workshop leader role as well as lead builder. I feel great about it, and the feedback has been so wonderful as to be quite humbling. I feel thankful for all of my guidance in teaching, particularly from Mark Lakeman of Communitecture, Eva Edleson of FireSpeaking, and Joseph Becker of Ion EcoBuilding. They have grown me so much in the areas of teaching newcomers and coordinating work sites. I learned much of what I know thru years of work parties and I'm glad to be able to share what I have learned and continue to pass on the wisdom of these traditional building technologies. I see no end it to in any time soon.

​
​First heavy rain of the season (and still the only heavy rain of the season) happened the day we finished the Hugelkultur at Song House Sanctuary. Great to see plants go into the new soil! 

Below are photos of finished interior clay plaster for a client building a house out of train shipping containers outside of Port Townsend. Very beautiful finish work!! It is a treasure to work here. Next month, we start building interior cob walls to enclose kitchen space, and pour a small earthen floor.

Warm Muddy Walls - work parties for interior clay plaster on a Faswall house built outside Quilcene, WA.  The Yeakel and Gunn families have been coming out to get muddy together and finish their house. Nice to work with folks who have known each other for so long in such a beautiful place. Thanks to all of you! The Yeakel family has an abundance of horse manure, so this plaster is very manure-rich, composing of roughly 25% of the plaster body. Manure has excellent fine fibers and the active enzymes in the poop help to create a stronger, harder, more durable, and water resistant plaster (chemistry has a field of study on these kinds of "biopolymers"). So far, we are thrilled with the results. 

I continue to build Masonry Heaters with Jason Temple thru TempleFire and this house features a masonry heater built by us in the spring of 2015. It's fun to come back and finish the walls in the house we built this heater for. Jason and I are currently working on a large Russian double bell heater on Bainbridge Island, and you can watch the progress of that stove -- and others -- on TempleFire's Facebook Page.

Personal update in the land of Making Things: 
2015 is my 5th year at Saskatoon Circle - a traditional living skills gathering outside of Twisp, WA. Under the guidance of Ira Christian, five of us made gourd ukeleles, starting from a cherry stick, a gourd, a deer hide, and a goat hide. Five days of carving, drum strapping, nylon stringing, and collecting ponderosa pine pitch, deer poo, and charcol for the pitch glue -- we made fetless instruments that give off a rounded and rich tone. The curved sound holes on the side of the gourd were carved by firelight during the total lunar eclipse... & I was done carving by the time the moon was full and bright again. I love the way this little uke sounds. It's the first stringed instrument I've ever had and I'm enjoying playing it every day!

​With Love & Mud & Music, 
​~ Hannah

In the last one month or so I've been working with Jason Temple of TempleFire building masonry heaters. I've wanted to learn how to build masonry heaters for years, and I feel so blessed my work as a natural builder has brought me to this chapter of learning fire and brickwork. Yay!

Actually, I made this wish on my birthday in March of this year: we stopped by a large building site that included a German style double-bell masonry heater and I thought, "I want to help work on this!" Bychance months later, Jason asked if I would help with a project, and when we arrived to the site - it was this stove! We've since built the benches, plastered another heater that Jason already built, and now...

Last week, we and Anthony Richards AR Stonemason started an oven build from scratch in the countryside of the southern olympic peninsula. 

There's a few different designs for masonry heaters that come from different places in the world, namely Europe, but very basically, this Swedish 5-run style of oven will work like this:

We're going back out to the countryside to work on this one this week, and we'll probably finish everything but the plaster. 

It is such a gift to have a relationship with trees where we experience their life as such a comfort in the form of fire when they are no longer living. Particularly stoves which are pleasant to use and utilize the heat with exceptional efficiency, storing it in brick or clay or stone, become an anchoring tool for a home because they are appreciated and used often. Even if the people move on from the space, the memory of such a sturdy and warming presence will be carried with them forever. Radiant heat has a magical quality of persistence that seems to stick around, not just in the house days after a fire, but also in the heart, years into the future. 

Cheers to building lasting systems!

Most of my days this week have been working on Laurence Cole & Deanna Pumplin's home in the Port Townsend Ecovillage - the house we've come to think of as a Living Prayer. As part of our official day's course during our plastering work-parties, we begin the day with check-ins. Check-ins give us a chance to hear from everyone: How are their bodies - any injuries, aches, or cautions? How are their emotions, and general disposition - grumpy, sad, or excited? As a working group, it not only gives us a more accurate expectation of how we will work together that day, but also creates a bond as we get to know each other, and establish trust and understanding. As Laurence Cole is a bringer of community through song, we also usually sing together. 

On the middle day of our largest work party for clay plaster on the interior - we're a crew of about 12. We opened for an hour, hearing from each person what stage of life we feel we're moving into, our latest breakthroughs or struggles, our passions and interests, why we're here and how it fits in. 

People have mixed overall experiences of these longer processes. One person stated they were feeling a little antsy by the end. A few of us felt incredibly energized. I arrived that morning well exhausted, but I was touched by what others had shared and shifted by the opportunity to share myself, and by the end of circle I was filled with energy and joyfully worked another 10 hours. In fact, in the moment of singing a simple song at the end of the day with a new friend, rounding a window corner with mud and the westerly golden light shining through the window, I would say this day, which began with a Heart Circle, was the most significant day of my life since 2009 when I first heard Mark Lakeman speak about Placemaking. 

"Time is money" doesn't culturally allow for this level of intimacy in a work setting, especially a construction setting. Yet, I have seen - in many cases - when good relationships and a healthy working environment are prioritized, work happens more smoothly. The entire operation is extremely efficient. 

When I was an organizer for the Village Building Convergence, between the years 2011, and 2012 we decided to implement "Heart Space" into the official meetings for the Core organizing group. I had been with VBC 2010 and 2011 and experienced our meetings in what was 'normal' for us then, which was roughly consensus decision making with a loose timeline and working-group updates that guided the agenda week-to-week. We met for two hours weekly. Two hours for a group ranging anywhere from 7-25, with approximately 6 working-groups, and at least two "big topics" of discussion at any given time, every 120 minutes was precious. However, we made the commitment to carve out 20 minutes EVERY WEEK specifically for "Heart Space". 

The difference in the quality of the meetings was dramatic. I witnessed far less in-fighting, far less personal-stuff negatively drawing on the group energy, far more willingness to listen easily to each other. We addressed conflicts directly, we spoke honestly, and we became familiar with feelings of gratitude for each other. (We largely followed the format of Heart of Now exercises for this time.) Though the difference is immeasurable, I found our meetings to be vastly more efficient even though we were spending less time talking about "what we came there for". 

Efficiency is achieving the best product in relation to the amount of work that is put in. I expect this can be thought of in about 7 billions ways. With natural building, I view the use of materials as being extremely efficient. On a human-scale, I can expend energy collecting clay soil, sand, straw, and water, and mix it together on a tarp, and build walls not unlike a pinch pot to create a giant bowl I can live in. And I can keep doing it as long as I eat a bunch of really good food. My day's work requires dinner. Very different than the processes of most all other conventional construction materials. The amount of raw energy expended to create the 'product' does not even come close to the dollar amount that is subsidized and then sold cheaply en mass. 

Similarly, 'weeds' very efficiently bring needed nutrients to the surface without any additional care. A dandelion bioaccumulates rich minerals from a deep taproot and brings them up to the surface, produces edible greens, provides bee forage, makes delicious root tea, digestive tincture, and seasonal wine, is a companion plant to almost any vegetable, is completely fun to make wishes with, and if undesired otherwise, adds rich nutrients to the compost. All without needing any care. I love how we (can) use things like dandelion and yarrow every day. The plants we need the most are easy to grow. 

As a culture, we often use the word 'efficiency' without considering its true implications. It would benefit to pause and think, "What does it mean for things to run smoothly? How do I put my energy to best use?" Chad Toomey, our outdoor leadership teacher in college said to us, "Slow is efficient. Efficient is fast." So when we take an hour or more to do a Heart Circle at the beginning of the day at a construction site, we recognize that as efficient. We no longer separate "the place" where we go to meet with friends from "the place" where we go to work from "the place" where we receive counseling from "the place" where we are appreciated from "the place" where we go to eat. When these things are once again integrated, the system learns efficiency. 

From a cost-analysis standpoint for the homeowners of a house, to pay a few workshop leaders and accept a crew of volunteers who want to learn how to build with natural materials and connect in a deeper way is about the same dollars-wise as a cut-and-dry fully experienced crew-for-hire. Work happens about one day slower, give or take, but in a way that cultivates learning, growth, opportunity for connection, lasting friendships, and great feelings of accomplishment and purpose... the amount of 'product' we get from the workshop setting is exponentially greater, in essentially the same amount of time. Our working team becomes our community. We eat burritos at the beach for sunset and share our dreams in the morning - or not. Silence is acceptable too, some choose not to sing, and part of us working together is only doing what brings us Alive, and naturally we find our place on the job-site accordingly. 

We never know the futures that will take place as a result of who we meet, or why. A volunteer on the Living Prayer House - a videographer - took beautiful footage of the process she was there for, and we're hoping to work together with those deeply involved in the project to create a movie to share the story of this H\house and why its heart beats.

We create our experiences based on intention and presence. How do we use our energy for the greatest amount of good, for our highest growth, to utilize our creative potential? How do we come to think of efficiency as sacred? How do we come to recognizing that "labor intensive" processes - of making things with our hands, of engaging our bodies, of connecting our hearts - lead to overall less work as a society and more strength in culture and personal purpose? 

I don't believe there's one right way to do it. Effective and beautiful uses of energy are accomplished in a multitude of ways. Each person holding a unique lens for their own application.

This house is much older than it seems, 
every detail embodies a long strand of memories
of all of our moments, which lead us exactly right here
of every morning circle which draws our hearts near.
Of the ancientness of mountains that brought us sand
of the timeless texture of mud left on our hands.
This house is shaped as slowly as stone,
loved and protected, each a piece of our own.
Every trowel with the perfect grip, 
every rock on the terrace in a perfect fit,
and every day to emanate Relationship.

Our spirits have magnetized mysteriously,
materialized, and realized completely
in 13 hour days we're not growing weary.
Seven billion people, and our footsteps brought US as one, 
the imprint of story come to watch the setting sun.
Oh, the sunsets! How they open my heart!
Oh, the light and the clouds and the trees: the best art!
The landscape of the day’s rises and falls
become topography of our stories written into the walls.
We work together, never fully alone
surrounded by old friends:
clay, sand, wood, water, and stone.

I am standing on the portch outside,
and I’m loosing myself in the texture of lime.
I am only the weight of a muddy trowel hanging comfortably in my hand
only the wave of feeling all kinds of beings working well on this land.
Manure on the walls and in the garden below me, 
and I, the bringer of Raspberry Savoring Ceremonies. 
I see our hands reaching out and rubbing the air
and right where our hands stop, a house appears there. 
Shelter, sweet shelter, for our spirits and Souls
for so many beings to now call this place “Home”. 
How many hands have touched this place?
And two hundred years from now, 
will every square inch the air be graced 
by the presence of a bee or a bird,
or butterfly or a bug?
And the vibrational echo of every loving hug?
Thank you to those tending this place before us, 
Thank you for working with us in Trust. 
May our presence be welcome, loving, and kind.
May we co-create beauty each moment of time.

Each who comes, Welcome, Forevermore.
Weave your story into our local Lore.
Home is our Forever-Place taken to
Wherever-Place that we are.
Our Home is with us, even when we're afar.
All work is sacred, no matter how temporary... 
so let us bring our Forever into contemporary.
This house, not my own, but it is part of my Home,
created and crafted and cared for with Soul. 
I feel the oldness and wisdom of rock
Watching over us, sturdy, while our hearts ever unlock.

We know healing happens through a mutual melting
an enzymatic shift of spirit smelting.
We listen and grow to a mirroring edge
and watch swallows swoop ‘round and under the ledge.
We bundle up for beach sunsets at the end of the day
and loose stones we keep close, an invitation to play.
We have sang every day, and we will sing sweet and strong,
and I feel as though Humans have done this all along.
The ageless feeling persists in the lime
these walls will become harder and smoother with time.
Water washes a sheen and the rock’s colours glow
and soon these walls, too, will cure back into stone.