Something good there is about working with wood. My dad built wooden toys in his retirement, another guy I knew built custom furniture, and a neighbor moved to a bigger place just so he’d have a shop to work his wood in. My Virginia brother has a workshop, too, and relishes refinishes when time permits. A high school classmate of mine has his very own planer in his basement. They all seem to get something special back from the element -- wood in this case -- in the process.
The last couple of days was one of those rare times when I took the opportunity to work with wood. For me, creativity usually is connected with my Mac. This time, though, wood made the act of creation, or re-creation, much more physical. In the real world. First it was sanding down a forty year-old pocket door, ridding it of finish and some pet scratches left by some long-gone house critter. The six-panel pocket was then anointed with a new coat of stain, deepening prominent red while highlighting some dark tones, and finished off with a new coat of polyurethane.
Working with the old door put me in touch with the tactile acts of caressing and tending, sanding and rubbing, brushing and smoothing, along with studying and assessing the condition of a crafted relic from a tree that once stood and knew nourishment from the earth. The job seemed particularly real compared to how I usually entertain myself.
And maybe that’s at the heart of having a tactile hobby, like wood working. Unlike computer stuff, you really get your hands on it. Computer stuff is all pretty mental. Not so with wood. Or the earth. Another friend, a studied organic gardener, tells me that when her hands touch soil, something clicks on inside her. Manipulating dirt is just what she needs to stay in touch with things true, good, and beautiful.
The point of this entry is to appreciate the value of elemental therapy. In our busy world where almost everything is bottom line connected to pixels and fast downloads, working with wood and soil grounds us to the physical world. Slowing down to appreciate elements that visit our personal space, zen-like, if you will, is a practice worthy of effort. I recommend it.
Today’s elder idea: Work with the earth. Know her. It’s natural.
"The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows."
ReplyDeletefrom Mowing by Robert Frost.
I appreciate your point about elements but also suggest that what we labor with is not as important as the labor itself.
Yes, indeed. It reminds me, too, of stories of the meditational quality of 'women's' work from generations gone by. I think the idea is from Kathleen Norris. Churning butter. Mending clothes. Kneading dough. All repetitious tasks that allowed for time to consider interior issues. I think the same can be said for fishing: sitting on a river bank hopeful for a bite, but ready, too, to just sit and be still. That's how my dad did it. Being present with labor can bring one there.
ReplyDeleteWe at the “White house” are more in the Play-Doh/Silly Putty phase of life. Creating something together as a family, joyfully squishing it, and beginning again is about as therapeutic as it gets.
ReplyDelete