Building

BUILDING
for Mike

WHEN MIKE WENT TO BED at night, he had a plan in his head. When he got up in the morning and after taking a shower and drying and dressing and eating his breakfast, he found that the idea in his head was still there, and so he went downtown to look for a building. He found one that was just the right size. Walking up to it, he placed his hands carefully and tenderly against the red brick of the building and began to push with all his might. He pushed as hard as he could. Soon, the authorities came to check out the incident. A citizen with a cell phone had reported the potential disturbance.
The authorities asked him, "What do you think you’re doing?"
He said, "I’m trying to push over this building."
They said, "Why are you trying to push over this building?"
He said, "Because I want to push over a big one."
The authorities looked at each other and then said, "There’s a bigger one on the other block."
Mike kept pushing, but his concentration was shot, interrupted. He said, "I know. I saw that one, but I think that that one might be too big. I want to push over a big building, but not one that is too big. I spent a good part of the morning looking for one that was just the right size, and I think this one is it."
The authorities said, "If you push this building over, we’ll have to cite you." They paused to consult among themselves and then said, firmly, "We’ll give you exactly one hour to leave. Not a minute more." And they left.
Mike was unable to push over the building, and after an hour he did leave. But he left because he was tired, not because of anything the authorities had said to him.
The next day Mike arrived at the same building, but this time he brought some gloves and some friends. His friends lined up along the side of the building, and at the count of three, they all began pushing. They pushed and they pushed, and they talked very little among themselves, their concentration was so intense. And when the authorities came again to see what was going on because there had been another phone call from a concerned citizen, they asked the same questions: "What are you doing?" "Why are you doing it?" And: "If you do any damage to this building, we’ll have to cite you." And: "Today we’ll give you two hours to leave. Not a minute more."
After one hour one of Mike’s friends said that he didn’t think that they would be able to push over the building. It was too big, he said. Mike conceded that the building was big, but disagreed that the building was too big. He said that it was just the right size. And that that was the whole point: He wanted to push over a big building. A smaller building would not do. It had to be a building at least as big as this one: six stories high and a half
a block wide. Otherwise, there might not be enough satisfaction. "No," he said, "I think we should stick with this one."
At the end of the second hour, in which they were all very tired, they all agreed that they would resume the following day.
The following day, Mike and his friends brought more friends--more than the day before. They were men and women and even a few teenagers now, and they all looked big and strong and healthy and determined, physically and emotionally and even spiritually. Again, at the count of three, they all began pushing with all their might. They planted their feet firmly on the pavement and pushed against the building. Some turned around and leaned and pushed with their backs, using the strength of their legs for better advantage. They pushed hard and hard, and a few people on the sidewalk, who were not pushing but who had gathered to watch in amazement, were watching. They were amazed too. Some of the people inside the building stuck their heads out of the windows to see what all the commotion was about. Finally the authorities came again, but this time they had difficulty getting through the crowd of people who had gathered on the sidewalk to issue the verbal warning to the people trying to push the building over. They said that there had been two phone calls this morning, each one reporting of a potential disturbance. (One of the calls had even come from someone working inside the building itself.) This time the authorities did not ask the building pushers what they were doing or why they were doing it. They just said that they would again give them just two hours to vacate the premise. They would not give them any extensions, even though there were more people today pushing against the building than there had been the day before.
On the next day, more building pushers arrived, and more on-lookers came to watch from the sidewalk. The authorities were there too, many of them; more than before. Mike and his friends, who now numbered almost fifty-one, were very well organized. They all had gloves, and some wore hats and sweat bands and masks, and some even had name tags, and they spaced themselves along the side of the building, the side they had been pushing on, with the bigger and stronger individuals at the corners and at the center, and the smaller but very determined pushers in between. At the count of three, they began, and a tremendous sound of energy went up. The people watching on the sidewalk could see the muscles on the legs and the arms and the necks of the pushers. The muscles tightened and bulged. The on-lookers could hear the sound of energy going up: the heavy and strained breathing and the exertion. They could see the sweat beginning to run down some of the faces.
The authorities were about to speak, but even they were impressed by the strength of the human spirit.
The building began to creak, and that brought the authorities back to their purpose. The leader, holding a megaphone, spoke loudly and clearly: "I repeat: If you tip over this building, you
will be cited."
The crowd on the sidewalk, hearing the threat, suddenly rose up in a great and unified roar--non-verbal and non-linguistic--a roar that quickly reached a crescendo. And then, even more suddenly, as if on cue--but there was no cue--the people stopped. They halted. There was silence, except for the sound of the cars passing on the street, the flight of pigeons to the sky, a plane overhead, the panting of the pushers, the squeaking of the shoes of the pushers against the pavement, the shadows moving slowly--microscopically--across the city and the world; the earth turning.
This demonstration of the on-lookers’ discipline--their voices being turned on and off with such precision and control--lasted, at most, six seconds.
The authorities looked back and forth at the two groups of people, the on-lookers and the building pushers, suddenly realizing their peril.
But there was no danger, no danger from these people.
One of the people on the sidewalk sensed the tension and the insecurity on the faces of some of the authorities and called out, "Do not fear; we are just a flash-mob," and another in the crowd called out, "Yes," and then there was no more speaking. It was silent again, except for the other sounds that, for better or for worse, were bothering no one.
Back at the first creaking of the building, Mike shouted out Step Two of the Instructions: "Begin pushing UPWARD now." His friends strained even more.
In a moment, the building groaned again and began--microscopically--to tip. Some of the pigeons returned to the sidewalk, their feathers fluttering beautifully as they landed with grace and style. Some of the people on the sidewalk cleared their throats, in the way that civilization had taught them. And the authorities--from one perspective, right in the middle of all this; but from another, completely irrelevant--looked back and forth, again and again, and just stood there with blank expressions.
The on-lookers saw a story unfolding.
And then Mike let go his portion of the building, stood back, and surveyed the morning’s work. Indeed, the entire week’s work. He walked the length of the facade and watched as his friends held the building in place. He tilted his head one way, and he saw integrity. He tilted his head the other way, and he saw deception. Then he looked straight ahead and saw clarity. Feeling that things were now right, he issued the Third (and Final) Step of the Instructions: "Begin lowering the building--slowly." Then he added, for the sake of clarity, "‘Slowly’ means ‘carefully.’" And at that, he returned to his place in line against the wall and did his part.