If You Could Build Anything

what would it be?

Frameworks are crumbling everywhere.

I’m not talking about the places with “good bones” that can be revived through renovation, I’m talking about the places that are tumbling down due to disuse, or misuse, and especially about those built on faulty foundations.

For us who are watching, these events can feel earth-shaking. Maybe we’ve been expending our energy trying to prop up the architecture of a bygone era – the pillars upon which our societies and communities were built – doing what we could to delay the inevitable. Maybe we were escapees for whom the fall of these houses causes us to feel relief as well as “good riddance.” Maybe for some of us these were childhood homes, and we grieve their passing even as we know they couldn’t last forever – that the structures of the past aren’t always built to hold the future.

The collapse of a building is loud, messy, and even disorienting as the air becomes dense with debris. It challenges the stories we hold about what is sound, about what’s functional and needed, about what’s beautiful and worthy of building in the first place. Feelings can arise as thick as the dust that obscures our vision, making it hard to breathe: the fear of being exposed and vulnerable, the fear of letting go, the guilt of not maintaining and upholding the requirements the structure was built upon, the need to find someone else to blame for the fallout.

There’s a mysterious phenomenon here to engage in, however, which is the inextricable blend of two truths: first, that – apart from any human – every season has an ending just as surely as it has a beginning; and second, that, as humans, we are all responsible for not only what is built, but also the manner in which it comes down, as it is guaranteed to do. Nothing in this world can endure forever.

Now when the rubble comes to rest and we have come to terms with the reality that the old has passed away, we have a vital opportunity: not just to build something to fill the space that was left, but to learn from what had been and use that knowledge to realize new dreams.

What worked here? What didn’t?

What were previous limitations and standards? Do they still apply, or should they? Who was being sheltered and supported by the structure? Who was being kept in? Who was being kept out? Why?

What else is possible?

What are our current needs, and what are our hopes for the future? How can we go about creating in a supportive and sustainable way to produce something beautiful, functional, and founded in greater integrity? Can we release some of the rigidity of our grip knowing that what we build has a definite lifespan? Can we remember that the highest job of any edifice is to serve people and reflect their value, and not the other way around?

It’s a precarious time. Everything is on the table, but don’t lose heart.

What do you want to build?