Just Show Up

By Alex The Builder Philosopher

11 december 2024

Today wasn’t my best day. I woke up feverish, likely from a lung infection. I’ve been coughing like mad, and my heart races just from picking up something off the ground. Despite how I felt, I decided to work on my A-frame house anyway. My mentality is simple: just show up. Even if I only accomplish one thing today, I’ll still be better off than when I woke up. And if I need to nap or finish early, that’s okay—I’ll find peace in knowing I had the determination to do something, no matter how small.

Today didn’t need to be a great day of work—I feel like I’m dying, after all. Unsurprisingly, my mood matched my physical state, and my mind spiraled, much like the freezing rain outside. I started thinking about how far behind schedule I am and how off-budget this project has become. How could this happen? It’s not my first rodeo! Suddenly, a wave of self-doubt hit me: What if this project doesn’t deliver the outcome I hope for? What if the lender refuses to advance the money I need? What if I’m wrong? What if I run out of funds? Am I being stupid with yet another grandiose idea?

To make things harder, this construction is technically one of the most challenging I’ve ever undertaken, plus, I decided to build it mostly by myself in my own solitude.  And yet, I chose this project to explore a new approach: What happens if I stop chasing money and let myself be guided by the forces of nature and the universe?

Instead of focusing solely on profit, I take time during the day to meditate inside the house, listening to the soothing sounds of the river and nature. And every time I ask for guidance, I somehow get the solutions I need. I’ve resolved complex structural issues, like how to fit the staircase against all odds in a way that turned out even better than planned. Luck?  Maybe.  I’ve also been flooded with new ideas, like the lavish custom doors I envision and custom-made projectors to create the perfect ambiance. Coincidence? It is hard to explain… This approach—building with heart and intuition—is the wildest thing I’ve done in my career. And let me tell you, it’s not cheap.

The past week has been particularly rough. I spent days battling relentless snowstorms while trying to finish the sheet metal roofing, which involved endless scraping of ice and snow removal. What should’ve been a 40-hour job turned into over 100 hours of work.

To make matters worse, the city inspectors showed up (again) because a jealous neighbor filed a complaint. They told me I had to stop all work on the detached garage and submit architectural drawings since the footprint exceeded 55m². I argued that the interior was only 53m², but there was no negotiating with this little army of bureaucrats. The law is the law, they said. I’m in the wrong, and it’s not their problem.

Like I’m going to let winter tear apart this structure while waiting 2–3 months for city approval! Maybe I shouldn’t have shredded their first work stoppage order or told the rookie inspector to “buzz off.” This time, though, they sent two inspectors, and the infamous red-crossed paper was now encased in a seemingly indestructible plastic wrap. I was impressed.

Life, however, has a sense of humor. Just as they finished photographing their “indestructible” work order stapled to my structure, it fell off on its own and floated graciously straight into a nearby garbage bag. I couldn’t help but laugh—it felt like cosmic intervention, a reminder to find humor in life’s absurdities. With my spirits lifted, I decided to focus on what I could control and carried on with the garage.

Later, my appointment arrived—a videographer interested in documenting this build and my journey. Sharing my vision with him was cathartic, and it helped ground me. By the time he left, I felt reinvigorated.

As I turned back to face what I’ve built, I was struck once again by its beauty. This house isn’t just a structure—it’s awe-inspiring, a creation that stirs something deep in anyone who comes near it. Reflecting on the past two weeks, I realized how much has been accomplished. The roof panels are fully installed, and the glass curtain walls are finally in place. This milestone was the first tangible representation of my vision, and seeing it come to life filled me with pride.

When the mountain feels too big to climb, I remind myself to focus on what’s right in front of me. So today, that meant working on the soffits and fascia and shoveling wet snow, by myself.

Great things rarely come easy, and as a builder, my philosophy is simple: always persist through adversity.

Cheers!