The chisels are calling

 

I elicit smiles every time I mention to people: I sniff saw dust. Further more, I can distinguish wood species by their scent. Besides being funny, it is true, smell is the most potent memory revoking sense in humans. It's like going back to your old school, the smell is to blame for bringing back all those emotions. I miss my wood shop, damn I miss it a lot.

But why, one might ask. Don't you have enough things to tackle everyday? How do you find a time to do woodworking, or any hobby for that matter?

These all are the wrong questions. The right question is way simpler: Why would one prioritize a hobby over other immanent tasks? The answer is actually even simpler: Because it makes me happy. Chores will come and go, all jobs have expiration date, we will all retire one day, aren't we? Except our happiness, that is forever. 

It takes a special kind of thinking and planning to make something useful with your own hands, whilst being unique, not mass produced, not made to fit the masses. Tailored to suit only your needs, your proportions, your desires. Then and only then, an object becomes a relic, a sacred artifact that marks and celebrates your existence. Have you asked yourself, what relic will mark your existence?

So yea, you bet I will continue sniffing saw dust, seeing that we recognize people through deeds, not what shirt they wore to work that day back in 2021.

I bow thee Monteleone