Woodwork-Therapy

Hobbies are often …not just hobbies

As I hew the unwrought wood, I try to digest what was to be understood. What happened was a simple argument, but that’s how I see it in the present time-set. Back then it seemed a gigantic problem; the “hit of the moment” had magnified its borders. Now that I form the wood into a table she’ll like, I remember the things that are hers and mine. Not the material ones; these have no priority when one loves. But all those invisible stuff that prove the bond without contracts, without words. She said she didn’t like the way I behaved yesterday. So, this wasn’t a rejection of me, just a dislike of the handling I did. I surely took the comment personally, though she proves acceptance every day. I can tell her though I was disturbed by the way she expressed the things that make her feel upset. And then we’ll try to communicate, using a new language we will form together. The things in common we can gather, co-acting as freely united entities, not as divided, angry enemies. I think I’ll engrave under the table, a message hidden for me and her. This way I can enter again, her heart that was broken by things I said. So, is this table some kind of Trojan Horse? Maybe, but with a good intention. As I carve and chisel and form the wood, I feel I’m handling simultaneously my wounds. So, this isn’t just a simple hobby; it is some kind of psychotherapy. Creating somehow helps me manage life’s miracles and also every damage. Nothing is only soft after all. The coin has two sides, we take both. The external conditions as you may know are surely impossible to control. But that’s the challenge for us humans; to be unaffected by the outside. I tenderly caress now the walnut, hopefully, it’ll help with the “truce”.

Anthi Psomiadou — CC BY-NC-ND 4.0 International : Credit must be given to the creator/ Only noncommercial uses of the work are permitted/ No derivatives