Beginner's mind

Update | Bedside tables | Friction

Hello and happy autumn! My mind was full of well-crafted sentences that have scattered like skittish cats now that I’m sitting down to type.

My youngest kid is really into Calvin and Hobbes right now. This robot’s face is a good impression of how I feel about writing at the moment.

What did my mom used to tell me about writing?

Don’t make it more complicated than it has to be.

Pause.

Think of what you want to say. Boil it down to its essence. Then write that.

First, an update: as is probably obvious, I took the summer off from writing. I find that even with activities I love, it is good to step away once in awhile. To allow the energy and enjoyment to build back up. To get once more into that lovely beginner’s mind space.

The summer off gave me a chance to think about the next year of this newsletter. Two things about that: (1) I’ve moved my newsletter back to Substack—the other platform I was using didn’t work out, so I’ve returned here. And (2) I’m going to continue my every other week publishing schedule, and alternate between writing a longer essay on one of those weeks and doing more of an visual essay of my current projects on the other weeks. Hopefully that gives you a pleasant break from some of my more long-winded thoughts.

We had some friends over a few weeks ago and Josiah took this photo, telling me he was sure I could get some insight from having burned up a prototype I made earlier in the year. It made a good s’mores fire.

My essay is below. I hope you have a good couple of weeks and maybe even the opportunity to burn up something you should let go of. ❤️

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Let me add a little friction

I’m reading Curious by Ian Leslie and in his chapter on the differences between puzzles and mysteries, he writes about productive frustration. The friction between wanting to know something and finding it out. Leslie is mostly writing about learning, but I think this idea applies in other areas of life as well.

For example, I’d like to think that I’ve given my partner, the loquacious and quick-witted Josiah, a delightful gift of productive frustration during the latest four years of our relationship.

Four years ago, Josiah said that it would be nice to have some bedside tables. We were using a small round IKEA thing for me and a second-hand table for him at the time. I told him I could make bedside tables.

We continued to use the mismatched IKEA thing and scratched second-hand table up until last week.

If waiting 208 weeks to get a bedside table isn’t the definition of taking a masterclass in productive frustration, I don’t know what is. You’re welcome, Josiah.

With these tables, I had ambitions to try new techniques and practice skills that I’d learned from Mark Laub’s spring workshop. Curved legs and inlay.

Ultimately, in the interest of getting them done before another 208 weeks had passed, I gave up on the inlay. And I went with metal handles, instead of making wooden ones.

But those legs are curved!

Prototype and the initial legs as I was rounding over the edges. All the pieces stacked up. Plus a very bored dog.

The major screw up with these tables?

I forgot to plane the leg blanks down to 1 1/2” thick after I glued up the material for them. And then I didn’t dry fit the entire thing before assembling the base. So when I went to put the tops I’d made on the base, they were not wide enough.

The original tops.

Actually, they were wide enough, but I’d wanted a 2” or so overhang on the sides and they would’ve only had about a 1/2” or so overhang.

I hemmed and hawed. I showed it to Josiah. He said it looked fine and I should just leave it.

But I couldn’t, so I ended up making entirely new tops, which added about a week to the project, but at least I can sleep at night.

I often think about the purpose of woodworking, about what it means to make furniture by hand.

I truly believe that a little friction in life is a good thing—it slows us down, forces us to hone in on the details, on this moment, to move with care.

But sometimes, it’s also just as simple as feeling like a grown-ass adult. And that’s what these bedside tables do. They make us feel like adults. I like the thought of building furniture for people that makes them feel more like themselves. If I can do that for others, I’ll have done good work in this world.

That’s all for now. Take it easy. And if you get it once, take it twice!