making a chair

I decided today, after helping my father make parts of a windsor chair, that I like sitting in chairs more than I like making them. Actually, that's a lie. I liked making certain parts of the chair very much. We used a tool like this one to pull strips of soft wood off rectangular blocks of red oak so that they slowly became rounded spindles. Pull, pull, pull. Check the guidelines, pull and pull some more then finally trim the last slivers-- not fighting the wood, but culling it to you curl by curl.

I've had some changes in my life, and the easiest ones to take were the ones where a drawing knife was used. Thin shaves of reality taken from me. Never too deep, just as far as the green wood in me could survive. The craftsman pulling the changes out of me by pulling the changes towards her. Not fighting my grain, but working with it. Then the last final trimmed slivers removed only after I had gotten used to the process.

This is the gentle work of relationships. This is the way to love someone, leave someone, or help someone move into her next self. Not the loud grinding of a band saw, or the high-pitched whine of the drill. Effective, yes, but the wood barely understands what is happening to it. So don't grab the shiny Ryobi router from Home Depot. Instead, take your drawing knife, lean your hip into the table, set the angle straight then pull. Pull the blade toward your heart. Then watch the tendril changes skim off the person you love and float tenderly to the ground.