Lately there’s been a lot of dwelling on the spiritual nature of my wounding, and a deeper understanding that whatever I bring into the world will be left behind to speak for me when I’m gone. I don’t really know how much that matters – or if it matters at all – but something about the knowing of it hits me at the core of my existence.

It’s there when I’m sharpening my tools, when I’m sitting down to eat, or mowing the lawn. Not constantly in the forefront of things like a curtain blocking my view; but more like a shadow hovering behind them…always there, but only rising to the level of awareness on the occasion that it flickers.

A trick of the light, perhaps.

It’s good to find myself coming into the world in this way. There’s a feeling of arriving at a place I’ve just discovered, and yet it feels like coming home again. Home to the barefoot summers of a young child splashing in the creek or running wild through the Birches lining the coal banks at the end of that tiny, narrow street that – for a while – defined the essence of his days…

The carving’s been a little slow of late. With the change in the weather, I’ve been out in the yard cutting the grass, tending the garden, and prepping the foundation for a new shed.

There’s also been a family visit or two and a lot of deep-down work; the kind that – from the outside – looks like resting, or even goofing off, but none the less still takes its toll and earns the sheer exhaustion that often accompanies it.

So far there’s romaine lettuce, Swiss chard, and kale in the ground. Spirit willing, tomorrow I plan to knock together the tomato and cucumber trellises. I’m thinking I’ll also plant a few peppers and some zucchini when it’s time.

There’s a whole list of projects, and some of them have been simmering for a while, but it’s going to feel good to finally get at them…

Two full days of yardwork:

Laying down the foundation for a shed. Mowing the lawn. Loosening the soil in the garden. Pruning the Pennsylvania Cherry. Setting out the furniture on the patio…

And afterwards?

Looking upon my work and calling it good.

Days like this are necessary. Little portions of “Yeah.” and “Why not?” sandwiched in between the deep and often difficult bouts of recovery.

Work and rest.

Work and rest.

Feeling the sacred balance of it settling into my bones. To say I’m completely comfortable with the simplicity of it all would be a stretch; but most days it comes and goes however it needs to, and I can somehow manage to let it breathe…

After the tools have been packed away, the rags folded, and the floor of the woodshop swept, I kick back and slide into the quiet satisfaction of a day well-spent.

Sometimes there’s a coffee, sometimes a beer, but always there is music and the recognition of just how good it feels to sit here having made something useful with my hands.

To be honest, as much as I love the process of carving a spoon, it often seems as if it’s simply done in preparation for the long, slow, nourishing moments that follow…

I spent the day finishing up a commission piece for a very generous patron who wanted “a longer spoon with grain you can see.” I went with Butternut because the grain is prominent anyway, but I also rubbed it down with cinnamon before I burnished it. During this process, the cinnamon imbeds itself into the grain and really makes it pop, especially with a lighter wood like Butternut.

I always appreciate when commission work comes around. It’s a blessing when someone basically says, “Hey, you know that thing you really love to do? Well, how about you go and do it for me?” And I’m especially grateful when that also happens to involve working in the shop with the door wide open on a beautiful, warm, just-about-spring day.

Between the carving, the music, the weather, and the occasional wave or chat with one of my neighbors, I couldn’t have asked for a better afternoon.

There’s an obvious pattern of abundance in my life lately. Though perhaps it’s more appropriate to say that I’m finally becoming more keenly aware of the abundance that’s always been here, but often times has simply gone unnoticed…