The tough side of the blacksmith's craft
Home » Blog » Nate Savill » The tough side of the blacksmith's craftAs the winter equinox passes, Good blogger and blacksmithing apprentice Nate Savill finds the short days, cold and rain a challenge.
Sky image by kiwinz via Flickr
“Before enlightenment: chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment: chop wood, carry water.” —Zen proverb
Gone are the obligations, the energy, the late light, the brightness and warmth of summer. Here is the slowdown, the lessening of energy, the graying of the light. Early nights and cold mornings gnaw at the soul and the rain greets me more and more. I pause, reflect and sigh. I am tired.
The weariness is most prevalent on days when I stop welding because I’m only getting worse, when I miscut a piece of work and have to start again, or the forge is shut because dodgy wiring and heavy rain don’t mix.
Cleaning out a coal forge is now a nuisance, and the wonder of its thousand degree fire has become unremarkable. The work has become repetitive: another punch, another chisel, another attempt at a handle
Summer’s adrenaline, which carried me down from Auckland and urged me to fight my way onto the blacksmithing course, has ebbed. Excitement has been lost somewhere in the ring of anvils, the mist of coal smoke, and the routine of daily life. Cleaning out a coal forge is now a nuisance, and the wonder of its thousand degree fire has become unremarkable. The work has become repetitive: another punch, another chisel, another attempt at a handle, it goes on. Last week I welded lines for five hours a day, four days straight. I did that the week before, and I am sick of it!
There’s only so much mileage in novelty. There’s a point where strangeness becomes mundane and an exhilarating new experience downgrades to routine. It’s a nice idea, this whole blacksmithing thing, but like any serious relationship, infatuation ends and commitment and hard work is required. It’s a condition of living and of deepening life’s expression.
There must be a reason why people have abandoned jobs and lifestyles mediated by technology, societal obligation or money to find life in the humble work of their hands. There’s a reason why I left a steady job and part-time university study to come here. It‘s something to do with the mechanics of the soul, and the transformation that comes from the struggle to connect mind and body. A search for meaning, for reality in places abandoned by society’s quest for progress—a desire to create something in a world where destruction seems to be the stronger currency. I don’t have the full answer, but I’m here.
There’s only so much mileage in novelty. There’s a point where strangeness becomes mundane and an exhilarating new experience downgrades to routine
I am here, at the forge, where barriers are removed, face to face with a piece of work; I am face to face with myself. My anxieties, my priorities, my perfectionism and past memories emerge with each hammer blow, every twist and bend. I realize now that when I place an iron in the fire, a little bit of me goes with it, and that more important than the hammer are the tools of patience, discipline and determination. It is here that I meet my body, and my mind. It is exhausting and draining and it can be painful, but I believe that it can be beautiful in the same way that a piece of rusty scrap metal can become something beautiful. It’s a matter of continuing, of learning each lesson well, putting in the hard work and pushing on to the goal of completion.
I have reflected long enough. Dawn is breaking pink and orange over Westport—it will be a beautiful day. I have more welding to do and another set square to make. Other projects stand unfinished in the ash bucket. I realise now that when my tutor told me, “Steel is not the only thing forged on the course", it was a warning. I am hoping that today’s work will be gentle.
Wed July 07, 2010 @ 09:12 AM
