There’s a phenomenon I’ve experienced more than once when returning to my carving tools after laying them aside for a while. I’ve noticed that the work seems to flow a little easier; and I’m often surprised to find myself more intrinsically aligned with the natures of wood and blade than I’ve ever been before.

It’s as if that time of apparent rest was simply that…apparent; and although I was never really consciously aware of it, deep down in the marrow some hidden wisdom had settled in and was bubbling its way up towards fruition.

Biologists who study the life cycle of black bears tell us that a mother bear can birth and nurse a litter of cubs while hibernating in her den. Through a process not yet fully understood, she drastically reduces her metabolism; and from that place of mystery, new life emerges and takes hold.

Craftwork and recovery each share a bit of something in common with this.

Those of us who practice either occasionally find ourselves in dark and secret places. The terrain there is often difficult and unknowable, and traversing it requires more than a little faith that somewhere deep in the mystery something powerful and impactful is at work.

While we may not ever see its face or fully grasp its nature, its effects are there, and witnessed in the work of days and hands…