Tag Archives: yurt
Recovering
October means the approach of the Northern California rainy season. It was a year ago this month that I came to the goat ranch to talk about renting…the morning after the first big storm of the year. No one was here when I arrived; it seemed desolate. A large tarp on the yurt billowed and flapped in the wind; evidently put on in the wind and the rain as best they could, it gave the place a feeling of disaster. Something in me wanted to live here, but I worried about the situation.
Nonetheless, I’ve lived in this yurt for nine months now. During the first few weeks, I spent a lot of time on re-securing tarps and listening to loud flapping in the night; the tarps are required because the roof of the yurt has so many leaks. The first storms I weathered here were scary, but I soon experienced the stability of the yurt structure for myself and learned to trust it. After all, yurts originated on the wild and windy Mongolian steppe.
Yurts have a lattice framework for the wall supports. The beams from the ceiling are connected at the top of the wall by a steel cable that circles the yurt. The other end of the beams are connected to a center ring at the top. A traditional yurt “skeleton” operates on a system of opposing forces that create a very strong yet portable structure. The resulting shape is also extremely stable in high winds. My yurt (well, really my landlord’s yurt) was hand-made by a local who used it for a while, then sold and moved it to the ranch a few years ago. It’s 22′ in diameter (379 square feet).
Here’s a time-lapse video of a Mongolia yurt, or “ger” as they are called there, being set up. The basic structure of my yurt is essentially the same:
Modern western yurts are usually different than their Mongolian cousins in a few ways. The materials are different, usually vinyl or canvas instead of the traditional layers of felt and sheepskin. The heating source (a wood-burning stove in my case) is usually found on one side and vented through the side wall; in Mongolia, the stove is found in the center and vented out the top center ring.
Here’s a time-lapse video of the setup of a manufactured yurt from Pacific Yurts:
The interior wall of my yurt is different from others in a very significant way. When you step into a typical yurt, you’ll notice the lattice framework of the walls right away. 
But the wall of my yurt has an extra layer of bamboo screening installed over the lattice framework. In between the bamboo screening and the lattice is a layer of sheep wool from a local ranch. This acts as insulation in the walls. Of course, most of my temperature fluctuations happen via the uninsulated roof, but the wall insulation helps. It also means that I have the pleasant texture of bamboo to look at; to me, the one drawback to yurts is that the lattice walls can make me feel a little caged. In the photo to the right, you can see the lattice wall of my yurt in the window opening, and with the bamboo screening of the interior wall. For comparison, check out the swanky photo gallery from Pacific Yurts.
I’ve had a lot of time to think about this yurt and how to better prepare it for this coming winter. Tarps deteriorate in sun and wind, so it was clear that we needed to re-cover the top with a new tarp. I really wanted to use a tarp from Billboard Tarp Warehouse; they sell recycled billboards, made out of a heavier and more durable material than regular tarps. But my landlord deemed the cost too high. So I just got another heavy-duty silver tarp. I was able to find a 30’x30’s square tarp…big enough to cover everything, but no annoying overhang like the old rectangular tarp that was quickly being shredded.
So yesterday, a wonderful group of friends came to help put the new tarp on. You would think I’d be accustomed to asking for help after the past year, but it’s still tough for my prideful self. Fortunately, I have great people in my life who make that easier on me. Especially my brother Tony…he is always there for me. I’m grateful to all of them, both for their efforts, the delicious treats they brought with them, and (perhaps most of all) for their sense of humor.
Everything went great. Our team quickly got the tarp in place over the roof…the hard part was over.
We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon getting everything tied down securely. I’m very happy with how snug it all feels. I have better access to my windows, and am surprised that it feels much more quiet inside…the roof is definitely moving around less. After a few sunny days, I’ll go over it again and tighten down any places that might have stretched or settled, but I can tell already that this is a big improvement.
I’m looking forward to spending another winter in this big round space. The energy of living within a circle is very good for me; I feel that it is a very healing space. The soaring ceiling is especially calming for me, because I tend to be claustrophobic. Most of all, I love that I can hear everything happening outside…the birds and other critters are my companions here. Storms are dramatic and I feel their energy sweeping around my cozy circle home. I love living in a yurt.
Recently, I’ve caught myself a few times telling people, “I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” It astonishes me to hear it coming out of my own mouth, because just a year ago, I was more miserable and sad than I’d ever been. And I laugh when I realize I’m saying this while happily living under a $129 tarp.
Life doesn’t always go the way that I think I want it to go, but more and more I find that if I take a breath and surrender to what life really is, it ends up being better than I could have imagined. I am deeply grateful for my cozy re-covered home, and even more for all of the incredible loving people in my life, near and far. And, dear readers, for you. Thank you for coming along!
Not Rising Above It
It’s clear that a lot of my addictive nature is the avoidance of feelings. I find I really don’t understand feelings well at all. In fact, I often can’t identify my feelings with precision, at least not without serious reflection.
Turns out, I’m not alone in this. I’ve been using this list of feeling words recently, something suggested to me by a nutritional therapist a few years ago. I’m usually scrolling down for the negative feelings…funny, I don’t seem to need to reflect on the happy ones so much.
Identifying the name of the feeling helps. It’s gives me something to mentally grab onto so I can pivot around and look at the situation from another angle. OK…uncertain, frustrated, vulnerable, discouraged…now named, they are easier to deal with. My judgmental mind likes to have reasons, and “I don’t know…I’m just…ick” doesn’t appease that part of my brain the way “uncertain, frustrated, vulnerable, discouraged“ does. How would I treat a friend who was feeling those things? Naming the feelings takes away some of their power to overwhelm me, and makes compassion possible.
”Uncertain, frustrated, vulnerable, and discouraged” described my feelings earlier this week. Getting the yurt ready for the winter has been on my mind. The windows really need an overhaul, and I want to re-tarp the top. My landlord wasn’t keen on paying for a new tarp…“the one that’s on there is a 5-year tarp and it’s only been on there one year!” But her disagreement came to a swift end when our recent high winds created two large rips in the outer tarp. Now we both agree: I’ll get a new one. I’ve also been looking at the top rafters with some level of fear…how is that wood doing? Are those brackets going to continue to hold? My brother promises to come for a visit in a couple of weeks to go over things and help me make an action plan.
Then there are the pests…not just the “pests of the mind”, but the real live variety, with tails and teeth. The local birding mailing lists talk of rodent populations being high this year, with eager excitement about a possible influx of hawks. But I am less happy about trapping rats in the yurt or finding a pristine gopher tunnel exiting the ground right under a beautiful squash that I was watching daily in anticipation of harvesting it. The squash is now mostly-eaten, looking for all the world like a cute porch over the entrance to the gopher hole.
When the gophers and voles aren’t popping out of holes to munch on plants that overgrew the raised beds, I see them simply scampering over the wooden sides of the beds to get their snacks. Poor boundaries; it’s a familiar problem. I’m told that feeling the sudden anger and fear rise up in me is a sign that my boundaries have been crossed, and that is how I feel when I see the gophers making a mockery of the raised beds. Anger at their destruction, but more fear that people will notice this proof of what a terrible gardener I am. (Oh hey, hello there, Pride…)
The irony of all of this is that the very night I returned home from helping with the “Gardening Without Enemies” workshop, I walked in to find a dead vole smack in the middle of my floor, and woke that same night to the sounds of a rat rummaging through my kitchen. Clearly, I am a total sham. (Well, it’s true that I don’t think of them as enemies. But still!)
Sometimes I think I would like to write here about how I’ve really fixed things up, how my garden is producing food that I’m eating and preserving for the winter. I’d like to brag about my neat woodpile, the oranges and greens of beautiful squash, the careful soil preparation I’m doing as I think about the apple trees and other perennials I’ll plant this fall. I’d like to write about how much I’ve healed and grown up through the divorce, and how I’m now emotionally perfect and don’t care to be loved by anyone else in my pristine solitude at the top of this romantic ridge in this picturesque yurt.
The reality is so very different. I’m lazy, ambivalent, prone to flights of fantasy, way too needy, and the custodian (or prisoner?) of some pretty ugly feelings (and absolutely certain that no one would like me if they knew I had those feelings). Reality is messy and uncertain and, yes, sometimes wonderful too. My therapist doesn’t usually tell me anything, but recently told me this: ”If you want to play in this part of the world, you can’t rise above it. And if you have to rise above it, then you don’t get to play in this part of the world.“
And this is gets me to the core. The addictions are attempts to escape this truth. The constant striving to escape this part of the world, because it seems so messy with feelings. To aspire to something more tidy and orderly than this mucky life here on earth, and if I can’t do that, then just check out altogether. The goal setting, the list making, the project planning…all of these are great for getting work done in the ideas part of the world, but they are a poor approach for life itself. Life must be lived, and life will not be compartmentalized nor follow the rules I make up for myself (or from others).
I want to live life. I want to play in this part of the world. With all the other critters.
What does it mean to really have our feelings? What’s the difference between having my feelings and getting attached to them? Intellectually, I think the idea is to accept them, let them arise in my life and then, as easily, let them go. But is that really all there is to it? Is that really enough? What about expressing them? Do I need to express all of my feelings to live in a truly honest way?
Flapping Yurt
And you should hear it in here now that the rain has started…