The Basement

Shortly after my divorce in 2012, I decided a fresh start was in order. Having hit the reset button before, I knew enough to trust my instincts. So when the circumstances of a traumatic event like a divorce shook my foundation, I started pondering my next move.

The fresh start can take on many forms - A new career, new address, new relationship, and for some, even new religion or a shiny new toy. I had moved cities, states and jobs before, but a new address wasn’t the only directional change I was seeking. I was at a crossroads, and for me, the only way forward was to step down into the depths and build back up from the base.

As I considered my options, my best friend from college encouraged me to come to Colorado where the sun shines almost every day and opportunities are plentiful for the adventurous and entrepreneurial. “Come to Colorado. You can live with us in the basement until you get situated out here” he said.

“Perfect”, I thought to myself, “A forty year-old divorced and unemployed man living in his friend’s basement. Doesn’t get any better than that!” Surely, that bit needed to go on my online dating profile. Yet that Colorado blue sky contrasted with that musty dark bunker sounded like exactly what I needed. So I took Bernard up on his offer, packed up my Volkswagen, and headed to Denver. As promised, the basement was waiting for me.

I don’t remember a ton about my two months in that windowless basement. I remember hanging my clothes on an old Bowflex exercise machine, I remember hearing the sounds of that grand old house filled with a loving family above me, and I remember the quiet tone of that contemplative period.

It was a hot summer, but that basement was dark and cool, providing the perfect environment for my introspective journey. During the day, I worked part time, went on runs, and shot hoops with the kids. At night, I went down into the basement and to explore my own infrastructure and reestablish my groundwork.

The basement wasn’t just my location at that juncture, but my state of mind and a metaphor for the work that is necessary for all of us from time to time. To look through the cobwebs and into our innermost depths - to face the dark, damp cellar of one’s own soul.

There were no distractions in that basement. No deluxe man cave, no pool table, no TV, no women, no booze. Just questions to sit with like, “Who am I without labels, titles, or even relationships? What is the core of my essence that’s down deep inside me?”

The tools necessary for the work in the basement aren’t necessarily the tools celebrated by our culture. Stillness, wisdom, patience aren’t nearly as popular as doing, striving, and showing. For years, I had felt the key to my success was “outer” success. Indeed, success for many of us is crafting elaborate homes adorned with immaculate landscaping and fancy facades.

Going down into the basement isn’t like that. The shadow work of time in the basement won’t necessarily get you lots of followers, a leaner midsection or a bigger bank account. There’s no Instagram pictures to post in the basement. But the basement is where the inner workings of our lives are stored - our old belongings, memories, and keepsakes. Unlike the well-manicured front lawns and grand entryways that we portray to the outer world, the basement is the unseen guts of our lives. The basement is hidden from plain view, but the basement also represents the most important part of a structure - the foundation.

Basements are where we store our stuff, do our laundry and work on projects. You have to get your hands dirty in the basement and you may shine a light on some unsightly messes that need attention. Basements are also safety zones - shelters where we’re protected from the elements. Basements aren’t sexy, but it’s where we go to weather a storm.

In going through abrupt change, it’s much easier to work on the exterior - the new job or the better body. For many, it’s seems more gratifying and appealing to put a fresh coat of paint on the outside than to dig through boxes in the basement. Basements may often be an afterthought, but the truth and the real work always starts at the root.

I don’t know a ton about construction, engineering, or houses for that matter, but I do know that in order to build a sound structure, you have to go down before you go up. It’s also that way with people. We all store old stuff in that basement and we must be willing to explore the basement to make sure the foundation isn’t compromised, cracked, or leaking.

A sound foundation means being willing to face the darkness and nakedness. For me, spending time in the basement ultimately helped me foster the openness and courage to forge a new path professionally, meet my wife and make yet another move from the big city up to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado.

Like the basement, the mountains are also a wonderful metaphorical teacher. In the mountains, navigating the wilderness to reach the summit can provide perspective and humility. Looking across the vast expanse of life in the jagged peaks of the Rockies, I am oft reminded of my own small insignificance. I am also constantly inspired and filled with wonder.

In my current life now in Vail, instead of a basement, I’ve got a lot of boxes of stuff in the garage that need attention as my wife likes to remind me. I’m slowly making my way through those boxes, letting go of what doesn’t serve me, and making space for my next step. But wherever my next fresh start might be, I know that the real work begins down in the basement.