The sounds of hammers, saws, nail guns, and chatter have been punctuating the air here at Pokeberry Pines for several weeks. We are under construction, turning our old, deteriorating deck into a shiny new screen porch. Bonnie and Clyde (our cats) have enjoyed watching the action outside the windows (even if the noise scares them sometimes). Clyde has been so enamored that he sits nose against the window, as if supervising the crew. He even stands up on his back feet and reaches his paw out to get the workers’ attention at times. We are excited to see the transformation taking place, and as a result of the new porch/deck footprint, we are re-designing some of the garden spaces as well.

The fascinating part for me has been seeing how much de-construction has to take place in order to make room for the new. First, of course, the old deck had to come down. Then, deeper holes were dug in the yard to pour bigger footers. The gutters were cut off. Part of the roof was cut away to be able to attach the new roof of the porch to the existing roof of the house. Some of the siding was cut way to create slots for new boards. Saw, drill, grind – it’s like going to the dentist with a cavity – drill out the rot to create a clean space for a new filling.

As I sat there watching, it occurred to me that everything is really always under construction and deconstruction has to be a part of that. I am reading Glennon Doyle’s book, Untamed right now, and in it she writes, “Here’s the rub: Destruction is essential to construction…the building of the true and beautiful means the destruction of the good enough.” Wow. No kidding.

Our bodies slough off skin cells, shed hair, kill off old cells where they’re no longer needed or functioning. Then, every second our bodies make 3.8 billion new cells, most of them blood cells, but also brain cells, heart cells, skin cells, gut cells, and more. Throughout our lives, our brains change and adapt to new information and experiences to help us make sense of the world and function well – we shed old ideas and develop new ones. And our spirits certainly undergo deconstruction and construction as we explore ways to build strength in our faiths, explore truths and mysteries about the universe, and examine our connections to other beings and the greater world.

In the woods and gardens, I can see leaves, logs, bugs, bones decomposing, rotting, breaking down, and, in turn, new things being built – soil, plants, food and homes for critters. Today the mayapples are popping up out of leaf litter, trout lilies and golden ragworts are blooming, a red eft appeared on a log yesterday. None of this could happen without the constant exchange of energy and matter, the breaking down of materials into new resources and the transformation of energy into sugars and other molecules.

Our mental health, too, is dependent on deconstruction and construction. When we breakdown mentally, whether it is in the form of anxiety, depression, angst, or rage, our minds and emotions are telling us it’s time to change something, time to deal with old fears or hidden trauma and rebuild our lives toward truth, caring, and authenticity. It’s time to care for ourselves in new ways. But we have to break down old patterns, old beliefs, old memories, or habits in order to build new ones that support us in positive ways.

As we watch the crews work on the porch, we are deconstructing gardens, re-designing them, and re-building new new spaces for socializing, meditating, birdwatching, and generally enjoying being outdoors more than ever before. The constant hum of saws and hammers are signs that the homestead is under construction – again, always – just like our bodies, our minds, our spirits – clearing out things no longer useful and making room for growth, sharing, and interconnectedness.