The Pain and Pleasure of Renovations
It’s been about two months since I’ve come to these blog pages. Back in June, I ended my teaching career with a final flourish, blogged about it, and looked forward to a summer of writing on the lake.
And then the renovations began. My little fixer-upper was still in great need of repairs so I contracted to have the bathroom redone and a sleeping loft made out of the useless attic space, which was then only reachable by a pull-down ladder. Sounds good, right?
The work was supposed to be done in June and I was promised, “By 4th of July, for sure.” I had wanted a big celebration for the holiday, my birthday, a housewarming, and my retirement from teaching and New York. When the work didn’t start until around June 20th, I knew that wouldn’t happen and all plans were canceled.
My sister had warned me not to have the party long before that. “You know, the renovation is very stressful.” Little did I know, having become a homeowner at this late stage of my life. Once you sign the contract, you’re at the mercy of them, which includes supply chain issues and whatever happened to delay the job before yours.
By the second week of August, the work was done and I was pleased with the result. Then came days of moving furniture and files to new places and throwing out big pieces that no longer fit into the new layout. (If you’ve suffered from the pangs of aging with comments like, “Now where did I leave my glasses?”, do a home renovation — those moments will increase four-fold.)
There is a larger lesson to be learned from this experience: Renovation is hard, and yet we need to do it. There is no growth to be had in sitting in the status quo.
Of course, I’m talking about more than a house.
We need to work, perhaps, from the outside in. The first year I moved in, I needed a new roof, a new deck, a heating unit, and an insulated crawl space (that held all the piping) to ensure that my home, formerly a seasonal one, could survive the winter. Maybe you remember Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs from your college days. At the bottom of the pyramid is the first level of basic needs. If you don’t have shelter, heat, and running water, what’s the point of a library?
The same is true of ourselves. If you don’t like what you see in the mirror, or you don’t like how it feels when you climb stairs, a renovation is needed. I’m not talking about the vanity of a nip/tuck and plastic surgery, although, if you can afford it and you think it will help your self-esteem, go for it. I’m talking about a healthy diet, steady exercise, time to meditate and relax, laughter, and stress-free work and relationships whenever possible. When these basic structural and safety needs are met, you will look better and feel better.
My birthday this summer was the big 6–0 and I’m grateful that so many remarked that I don’t look it. (Thank you.) I am far from wealthy (just ask my accountant) and, other than the veneers I had about thirty years ago because I had teeth that were somewhat crooked and gapped, I have not had any plastic surgery. And my life has been far from stress-free, having endured many career failures and a life largely lived paycheck to paycheck, having been a victim of violent crime, having endured unworkable relationships that ended in heartbreak, and having dreams that went unrealized.
What has saved me was good habits that started way back in college, when I decided to end my teenage couch potato years and establish exercise into my everyday routines. I still strive for better eating habits (keep the M&Ms away from me, please) but I’ve done okay. I’ve become involved in great extracurricular activities, which have given me layers of friendships over the years. When I work, I work hard. When I go on vacation, I know how to take a vacation. All of this has kept me youthful.
Believe it or not, that outer work is easier than inner work. As I discovered with the indoor renovations this year, they upend your life in unexpected and disturbing ways that the outdoor renovations the year before did not.
And so it is with life. I still struggle with the inner things. How do I keep my mind from racing? How do I eliminate the toxicity? Why can’t I make time for prayer or meditation? How can I contain or re-channel the bile that I want to scream out during these horrible times?
As Maslow showed, we can survive without these changes, and many do. But that’s often a life of bad health, barely contained rage (and these days, the lid has come off), and consumerism — consuming rather than doing.
We need to move up the pyramid to meet our safety needs, our mental health needs, our social needs, and our spiritual needs. Enlightenment. Do you think Plato got there without pain, without a complete excavation and renovation?
Looking at my improving house — with still more renovating to come next year and beyond — I can’t help but think that it can be a reflection of my own growth, inside and out.
When we renovate ourselves, we are ready to help renovate a loved one or a stranger in need — but only if they are ready for it — in a real and lasting way. When we renovate another, we can renovate the household, the community, the nation.
Again, this is necessary work but never easy. Once you start down the renovation road, you’ll ask yourself, “Why am I doing this? Can’t I just stream HBO Max all day long in the privacy of my apartment?” But a good renovation is worth it in the end.
Renovate yourself. Help to renovate another. It’s a trek.
But does anybody doubt that we need a complete world renovation?
