The thing I miss most when I am away from woodworking is that feeling that comes when everything else stops, time included, and from dawn to dusk, nothing else matters.
…A rough board becomes square, with flat perpendicular faces, or a flat chisel finds the way to that precise point where the bottom of a mortise will wait for the tenon. Or even better, watching a rasp, chisel and gouge find a three-dimensional surface that existed before only in my mind begin to show itself from some blank piece of wood.
This isn’t about how good or great I have become… I have so very much to learn. I’m really not talking about vanity here. This out-of-self euphoria I get to experience isn’t even because another person will see what I’m doing and recognize some higher degree of difficulty or artistry, although I certainly strive for that. There is a deeper level of happiness that exists from doing a thing that I love, and knowing that I can do it well. Recognition is nice, being paid for it is ‘swell’, but that intersection of the art, the craft, the difficulty and ability makes all the rest of the world fade slowly away and all that is left is the gift of the experience.
Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (try pronouncing that with one hand tied behind your back!) says,
this state of flow where time flies… Every action, movement, and thought follows inevitably from the previous one…[is] like playing jazz. ♦
Moving from one task to the next, with no awareness of the effort of the analytical part of the brain deciding on the correct processes and order of each operation. Aware only of the overall art and design and willing to let practiced hands rely upon years of experience and muscle memory, knowing that a change in the grain is no different to the to a sharpened cutting edge than a chord change to the hand on the fretboard in the guitar solo… the hand leads, the change happens, and we follow our creative soul.



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