Modern World Blacksmithing
We've spent the last couple of weeks inside at the forge, taking a break from our usual romps through the woods. As a result, I've spent four exquisite days hammering metal, and thus have the opportunity to write about the same topic twice.
One of the most appealing things about Trackers as a whole, regardless of program, is that each course has something called "deliverables." These are hand-made items that students are guaranteed to take home with them at the end of the class. A bow. A survival kit. A tincture. A knife.
Partially, these serve as reminders of the course. Tangible items you can look at and say, "I made that, with my own two hands." The hope is, I assume, that you book another class. That you come back. That you participate again in some further work along your path to self-sufficiency or education or what have you.
But more than just advertising, these items that Trackers guarantees their students will go home with represent, for many, the first time they've done anything with their hands since childhood. I was a good student in college, graduating Cum Laude from NYU. I've always been good at BS-ing my way around an essay. My post-college work was intellectual, written, and primarily on the computer. When one project ended and another began, I had nothing concrete to show for it. The benefits of having developed my analytical skills or learned about some new piece of software felt like progression. At the time, I figured that was enough. That the paltry sense of satisfaction and growth I was experiencing would hold me through the long, dark days of an adult career in the workforce, with the occasional promotion or vacation peaking through like a tricky ray of sunshine in January.
Oh, how stupid I was. Not to say that there aren't folks engaged in primarily intellectual work who are satisfied--all hail the coding wonks, who make this blog, and the internet backbone it exists on, possible. But I would have been much better suited to a carpentry apprenticeship, my ferocious daily consumption of literature notwithstanding.
I would argue that most folks sitting in front of computers on the daily feel the same way. There's something so inherently satisfying about holding a made object in your hands, about seeing your skill develop over time as you work to create duplicates or more advanced versions. On Thursday as I waited for class to start, a wood worker dropping off his grandson told me that wood, even after it's cut, is alive. I confess that I don't know what he means, truly. But he does. He has shaped the wood just as much as the wood has shaped him, changed his life.
There's a part of the blacksmithing process where you quench and harden the steel. In the old tradition, this is the part where some believe that the smith imbues the object with her own life force. So when you smith, each object you make goes out into the world with a tiny part of your soul. Your craft is your life, your life is that craft. This is a circular connection, a way of living, not often attributed to the makers of TPS reports.
It's not simple to transition from an intellectual career to one where you work with your hands. It generally entails a pay cut. There are sacrifices involved. Not everyone can make the leap, and I'm more fortunate than most. But in my mind, the benefits outweigh the costs. I can't see myself going back to office work, ever. Not full time. I have to be out there, in the world. Sending out little pieces of my life force.