They say a house remodel is right up there with death and taxes as a major life stressor. Here's how we hit the reset button after our house had come to feel like a place to avoid rather than our home sweet home.
First let me say that we recognize any complaints about the trauma of home remodeling as a distinctly first world, upper-middle class problem. We know we're amazingly lucky to have a home to complain about, much less the extra cash to fix it up.
That said, nobody enjoys having a fine coat of oily black soot covering every surface of their home (the result of a poorly contained chimney demo). Or cats who express their distress over the situation by boycotting their litter pans.
Things started out great. We found a contractor who was excited by our vision of tearing down the wall between kitchen and living room, who was fun to have around as I worked from my home office.
But as these things often go, the honeymoon with our contractor soon came to an end and devolved into a soap opera – and not the kind you want to watch. The worse it got, the more the cats peed all over. It reached the point where none of us wanted to be in the house.
Which was a shame. Because the remodel truly transformed our space. We loved so many things about it: the colors, the lighting, the vast expanse of counter space, the new ways we could cook and socialize. But it was hard to feel the love. The aftertaste of the daily drama was too strong in our mouths.
First let me say that we recognize any complaints about the trauma of home remodeling as a distinctly first world, upper-middle class problem. We know we're amazingly lucky to have a home to complain about, much less the extra cash to fix it up.
That said, nobody enjoys having a fine coat of oily black soot covering every surface of their home (the result of a poorly contained chimney demo). Or cats who express their distress over the situation by boycotting their litter pans.
Things started out great. We found a contractor who was excited by our vision of tearing down the wall between kitchen and living room, who was fun to have around as I worked from my home office.
But as these things often go, the honeymoon with our contractor soon came to an end and devolved into a soap opera – and not the kind you want to watch. The worse it got, the more the cats peed all over. It reached the point where none of us wanted to be in the house.
Which was a shame. Because the remodel truly transformed our space. We loved so many things about it: the colors, the lighting, the vast expanse of counter space, the new ways we could cook and socialize. But it was hard to feel the love. The aftertaste of the daily drama was too strong in our mouths.
And so we planned a ritual to cleanse our new space. We chose July 4th, declaring it our Independence from Grudges Day.
A friend joined us, bringing a battered cast iron skillet, a bag of Epsom salts, and some rubbing alcohol. Apparently burning the salts changes the chemistry of the air in the house.
We began in the kitchen with a guided meditation. Our friend asked us to visualize a fine mesh cloth beneath the ground under our house, stretched from one edge of our property to the other. He had us envision the mesh rising up, catching in it all the impurities, grudges, and bad energies in the house, forming a bundle and floating off to a place they could be safely released. We did this twice.
Then we wrote on slips of paper those things we needed to let go of, focusing on acceptance of imperfection, release of what is past and cannot be changed, forgiveness. We burned the papers in the skillet.
And then we lit the salts for purification, parading (carefully) throughout the house, to every corner that had been contaminated with the mess and misery of the remodel.
We ended back in our beautiful new kitchen where we affirmed everything we loved about it. Then we sat down for a feast of thanksgiving.
* * *
How have you transformed the energy of your living or work spaces? I'd love to hear your stories.
A friend joined us, bringing a battered cast iron skillet, a bag of Epsom salts, and some rubbing alcohol. Apparently burning the salts changes the chemistry of the air in the house.
We began in the kitchen with a guided meditation. Our friend asked us to visualize a fine mesh cloth beneath the ground under our house, stretched from one edge of our property to the other. He had us envision the mesh rising up, catching in it all the impurities, grudges, and bad energies in the house, forming a bundle and floating off to a place they could be safely released. We did this twice.
Then we wrote on slips of paper those things we needed to let go of, focusing on acceptance of imperfection, release of what is past and cannot be changed, forgiveness. We burned the papers in the skillet.
And then we lit the salts for purification, parading (carefully) throughout the house, to every corner that had been contaminated with the mess and misery of the remodel.
We ended back in our beautiful new kitchen where we affirmed everything we loved about it. Then we sat down for a feast of thanksgiving.
* * *
How have you transformed the energy of your living or work spaces? I'd love to hear your stories.
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