Anyone can carry a house.

6 years ago, looking down over the edge of the small cliff that stands above my newly purchased piece of mountain forest. If you had asked me if it was possible, as I stood there deed in hand. Out of pure ignorant blindness I would have proclaimed it was. Not because I knew how to do it, but because I knew I could do it. I’ve always had a sense of the way things are done or put together, but this has always been more of a feeling then actual knowledge, and what I lack in know how I generally make up for with ambition. I would learn over the next 6 years that the combination of the two is not always enough.

All my life I’ve never really put the time in to learn or do anything all the way through. All the workings, and little pieces, the true 100 percent of a thing. I’ve been far more concerned in learning the next thing, and then the next. Stacking away in my life’s library 80 percents, 76 percents, low 30’s and some high 90’s, but never that full understanding of a passion or skill set that most people get to. My being wont allow it. I have a steady hunger to learn and do everything in the short time I am here, and as result I had rarely finished anything all the way. Put simply; the stuff I am made up of is more scared of not knowing at least some of everything then of knowing all of one thing, and in 26 years I had learned enough about myself to know that I was flawed. I needed a challenge, one that couldn’t be done in a week, and I needed to finish it all the way through. I also needed a home, so standing there at the road looking over the immense stacks of donated timbers, windows, nails, chainsaws, axes and other hardware’s. If you had asked me as I hoisted up the first of 36 bags of concrete, and started hiking down that god forsaken hill. “How are you going to build a house down there?” I’d have replied un-knowingly, “I’m going to carry it”


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