Accumulated Action

I was doing laundry the other day and needed to wait for the cycle to end, so I thought I’d do some finishing work on these salamanders. I had brought these pieces in to the basement to be worked on because it’s too cold in the garage.

I didn’t have much experience with these files, so I started filing away to see how they would work.

The salamander pieces have little pockmarks in them so, working on a spot underneath that isn’t readily visible, I thought I’d see if I could smooth them away. I didn’t have much faith that I would achieve anything; I approached the work more as curiosity, to see what would happen. I was doing laundry so I might as well...

So there I was, filing away, the laundry machine chugging away, metal powder accumulating slowly on the table. The filing goes slowly; rubbing and rubbing this way and that, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. 

I wondered, should I take a picture, to document this activity? Nah, it’s so inconsequential. Tiny little pockmarks, little files, the finest of aluminum dust collecting on the table – what is there to capture? 

Well, as always happens, at some point, I got engaged. All those light, little back-n-forths add up and that tiny little pockmark on the head is no longer there. Huh. Look at that! Okay, on we go...

Should I take a photo now, I wonder? Nah, what is there to see? It’s such a slow work, there’s nothing to document. It’s not like casting, when the hot molten orange metal pours out of the crucible, and there’s flames and smoke and such.

So, the washing machine is chugging away, and I’m filing away happily, and at some point I realize that the salamander’s head looks great. Huh. Look at that! Okay, let’s try over here...

And in time, the piece is transformed.

And I realize that what started as an activity started mainly to pass the time has become wonderful and fulfilling, here in the noisy laundry room, in the middle of a most uneventful Saturday afternoon.

The thing is, I didn’t see how these little actions could add up and really make a difference. I took no photos (at the time) because I didn’t believe they would reveal anything.

And it occurred to me that, in all this, there were things worth taking note of.

When does change occur? At what point did this pockmark on the salamander disappear? At what point did enough pockmarks disappear to make the entire thing look smooth and shiny? How many strokes of the file did it take?

When does change occur? After how many acts of kindness do I become a kind person? After how many moments of paying attention do I become more aware? After how many comprehensions do I become enlightened?

"I do not speak to you of liberty. I speak to you of liberation, of movement, of process." (Silo, The Inner Look)

How many activities do we abandon because we don’t see how they add up? And conversely, how many insignificant things do we do that could be significant, if only we put our head on the right way?

I love these little insights that arise in the midst of the gruntwork of the Craft—or of daily life. Everything serves, everything helps, everything points to a different "attitude toward life and things." Of course, it brings to mind the last 'Principle of Valid Action', from The Inner Look:

“Contradictory and unifying acts accumulate within you. If you repeat your acts of internal unity, nothing can detain you.”