This past week, something unexpected left a deep impression on me. Several crew of workers came to the retreat center to replace the old wooden electricity pole along the driveway—a project that unfolded over three days, right in the middle of everything.
I didn’t expect to be so moved by the process, but watching the whole thing play out—machine by machine, team by team—gave me a strange sense of awe. Not just for the technical work, but for what it revealed about structure, effort, and the deep connection between earth and energy.
Day 1: The Anchor
The first crew arrived on a Wednesday afternoon—two heavy-set, deeply grounded men with a backhoe. Their job was to plant the anchor: the metal guy wire that would keep the new pole upright and secure. They dug a hole about ten feet from where the new pole would eventually stand, right where the old anchor wire had bent awkwardly around a tree. These guys were pure earth energy. Grit under the nails. Carhartts and worn steel-toes.
At one point, they accidentally snapped an old septic pipe running under the soil. Instead of calling it a day or waiting for backup, they got creative. They scoured the property for a replacement elbow joint, and when they couldn’t find one, they heated a straight pipe in the muffler of their truck and bent it by hand. It was one of the most practical—and slightly chaotic—problem-solving efforts I’ve seen in a while.
Watching them, I couldn’t help but reflect on grounding—how in meditation we talk about "taking your seat." Just like a power pole needs a deep, secure anchor before it can rise, the mind needs its own base. For me, that includes rest, nourishing food, and connection to the body. There’s a lot of talk in spiritual circles about ascension, light, and raw food. But I find that when I’m doing physical work, like maintaining a property, I need things that root me—protein, stability, and regular sleep. The anchor comes first.
Day 2: Making Space
On Thursday, a different crew rolled in. Their job: to drill a deep, new hole for the replacement pole. While they worked, a separate team moved through the trees with chainsaws, trimming branches that threatened the lines above.
Compared to the day before, this crew was quieter. More tired, maybe. Their work was slow and repetitive—grinding into earth and concrete for hours with the drill. There wasn’t much fanfare, just the steady rhythm of making space for something new to take root.
It made me think about the phase of meditation that involves concentration of the mind. Drilling deeper and deeper through layers of distraction and uncomfortable thoughts. Sometimes, we have to do the hard work of pruning old thoughts or digging through hardened beliefs to make space for uprightness.
Day 3: Raising the Structure
The final day was a show. A larger crew—six men or more—showed up in full force. Big trucks. Loud engines. Fast movement. One truck held the new metal pole, while another handled the crane. Everyone seemed to know their role. One guy was unloading slats for the crane’s outriggers. Another was drilling into the steel. Someone else was fastening high-tension wires with practiced efficiency.
What struck me most was their synchronization. They moved like a football team in fast-forward—confident, gritty, and full of momentum. At the center was a leader: charismatic, direct, and clearly respected. At one point he shouted, “Do you need motivation or direction?” and someone yelled back, “Both!” They laughed, cracked jokes, talked about last week’s happy hour. “You were peer pressuring us!” one said. “No,” the leader said, “you were peer pressuring me!”
There was something undeniably masculine about the whole event—big trucks, steel tools, loud engines, fast decisions. Even the shape of the pole was… unmistakably phallic. But beyond the stereotypes, I saw something beautiful: real, embodied presence. They worked hard, fast, and with full attention. No one stood still. No one scrolled on their phone. They were fully in it.
When they finally lifted the pole and lowered it into the hole, I thought of the human spine in meditation. Straight, rooted, aligned. In yogic teachings, the spine is the central channel where energy flows—what some traditions call the kundalini. The pole mirrored this exactly: planted in earth, reaching toward sky, with lines running through it that would carry literal current.
Holding Steady in a Moving World
It made me think about the effort it takes to hold ourselves upright. Not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually. What does it take to be steady in a world that’s always moving? Maybe it’s not just sitting still. Maybe it’s digging, adjusting, laughing, sweating, showing up, and making space. Maybe the pole is a reminder that the divine is grounded too—that even light runs through something solid.