This is Not Nonattachment by Lexie Wolf
Photo by Kim Hawks, a beautiful soul who participated in and documented so many of Pittsboro's stories for many years until her passing this July.
Historic downtowns are like living scrapbooks. Each building is a page in the story of a community, and when one is torn down, a piece of that story is lost.
Developers have purchased the three buildings on East Street to our west. They’re slated to be torn down and replaced with a shopping arcade. One of them, 140 East Street, is a sweet little Craftsman-style cottage that looks, at least from the outside, like it’s in pretty good shape. It hurts my heart when historic buildings are torn down, though I do understand that older buildings in commercial districts are often more expensive to maintain and less lucrative in terms of usable space. Believe me, I do know.
My father has a background in architectural history, so it’s no surprise that one of the values instilled in me early on was the importance of preservation. Still, part of my ongoing work is to examine the values and “truths” I inherited from family and culture.
So, does this one hold up for me?
Yes. Our old buildings tell the story of our community; they are living records of the people who shaped this place. Preserving them signals care for community, fostering connection and belonging. And reusing what we already have, rather than building new, helps reduce our carbon footprint.
They were keen to buy our studio cottage as well. For about five minutes I indulged in an escapist fantasy about selling out and moving to Costa Rica. But what would I really do there? There is actually nothing I wish to escape from. I would miss this community too much. Not now. Maybe someday.
Lately Bill and I have wondered about a bigger space for the studio. We had waitlists for several classes and events this weekend, and sometimes I do wish for more room. I don’t like turning people away—but bigger isn’t always better. The intimacy of our space makes possible the kind of connections and experiences that are at the heart of what we do. So I don’t know what the future will hold for us in terms of space. We shall see. Despite yoga’s centrally important teaching on non-attachment, I am deeply attached to our space.
Like the buildings up and down our little downtown, our studio is one more page in the scrapbook of this community. I’m grateful we get to keep adding to its story, at least for now. For now, we’ll keep filling this sweet cottage to the brim with practice and presence, with an expanded fall schedule and an ever-expanding sense of joy and gratitude.
