DRIFTWOOD ALCHEMY

Tag: black

  • My Time at Mt. Fuji Wood Culture Society, Part 2

    My Time at Mt. Fuji Wood Culture Society, Part 2

    A little less than a month had passed since my first visit to MTFWCS and I found myself on the train back to the mountain.  I also planned to stay in advance because I like to learn from my mistakes.. (Most of the time). This time it would be for a whole weekend, while two workshops were held simultaneously. One of the workshops included learning a traditional roof hatching method. I would later learn how to harvest and process the straw as well. The other workshop included working on cutting and preparing timbers for the onsite Forge. We had the option to go back and forth between the two or stick to one. 

    I chose the latter of the two to begin with. It had been a shameful amount of time since I had picked up a chisel. Between my travels and being a full-time Architecture student, I had not-so-secretly started to wonder what my priorities were anymore and if I even still loved the craft if I failed to practice consistently. This question persists-even though my mission is more clear than ever. It will be no time in the grand scheme of things until I am back at it doing exclusively design-build work. For so long my worth has been tied to my productivity, and that is at least in part what I am trying to detangle myself from as I journey around the world. For now- I’ve left my boots in Virginia, and my precious tools are spread between a 5×5 storage unit and amongst friends. In favor of traveling light, the only tools I carry are a few used for whittling- and I am most certainly not proficient at carving (yet.) 

    I watched and listened diligently as Tak san explained to me what we would be doing and the process of making an end cut on a timber. A process I had completed countless times before, but I was and am always open to new ways or approaches. I complete the cut and he seems at least slightly impressed at how clean the cut was. He asks me if I have done this before- to which I reply “a little bit.” I feel that there is no need to mention, I used to do it full-time. That seems like a lifetime ago and worlds apart from the here and now.  I do another cut, and then move onto chisel work. I am used to large bulky western chisels, countless hours chiseling away and communing with my selves. While I do own several Japanese style chisels, they have done significantly less work and are bigger than a millimeter or two. I am happy to be here, this is my dream- to timber frame or more specifically to work with wood in Japan. I said I would do it and I am- if only for a short time. However, I am preoccupied by how clumsy my hands feel and the chisel feels light and fragile in my large hands.

     It is also cold- mountain cold outside. Nothing like the snowglobe in Southern Maryland that I used to work in. It was there that I found joy for the first time as an adult with chronic joint pain, playing (working) outdoors in the winter snow. The joy of working in a structure that you build with your own hands is unmatched. A feeling I am all too eager to replicate again as it seems like one of the most natural things a builder can do. I felt the emotion start to swell in my throat and I found myself suddenly mourning a past life in the midst of people I had only just met in a place that was foreign to me. I realised it was not that space that I was mourning, but that feeling. A feeling of purpose, and being connected to a goal that was larger than me, shaping my everyday surroundings with my hands and will  I felt stuck inside myself, and as much as I wanted to dig deeper and learn about the people around me- I was wedged between my own rapid thoughts. Ruminating. Wondering what I am even doing with life, what is the end goal- why am I here? I did my best to work through it while focusing on my task- enjoying the banter around me, yet understanding little. It felt like maybe it was understood that I needed to keep to myself, or perhaps everyone was just focused on what they were doing as well, and no one cared that I was mute. I was thankful. I felt that any moment I could burst into tears. Then how could I explain myself? Luckily no one asked me to. 

    Towards the end of the day I stepped away to take a break and gather myself back together.  Azsa and a new friend Kiden from Singapore appeared and asked if I wanted to go get a warm beverage and watch the sunset over Lake Shoji. The timing was divine and I thought that that sounded wonderful and if I was being honest with myself- I was tired. I decided to listen to my heart and body and took the journey. As I sat in the back seat and watched the scenery pass me by, I continued to think about my path and what had led me to this moment in time, and to this place. I saw many pieces weaving together to create the unique tapestry that is my life right now. Some pieces are prettier than others, some planned, some not so much. Kiden told us about the scenery around us- we passed the Aokigahara Forest; a famous forest in Japan that has become known as the suicide forest. I thought about how lucky I am to still be here, and all the times I thought that I wouldn’t make it. I rubbed my semi colon tattoo in appreciation for the first time in a long time and said a small prayer for those who are no longer with me. She told us about the Ice cave that has ice nearly all year around, and I marveled at the amount of  wonders in the world I had yet to see. I vowed to keep exploring, keep witnessing the beauty of the world as long as I had eyes to see and feet to walk. 

    We made it to the lake just in time to settle in and watch the ducks do their diving dances. I witnessed the best view of Fuji san I had seen yet. As the sun started to set more and more people started to pull up to the shore and set up their camera gear. Lake Shoji is a famous place to watch the sunset for obvious reasons. The winter colors go from orange, to pink, to purple- and when the wind is still you get to see an almost perfect mirror reflection on Fuji in the lake. We stood there in silence observing her in all her beauty, reflecting her magnificence in all directions. It was so silent, all you could hear was the light clicking of cameras and deep breathing. As I watched her reflection dance on the lake, I saw myself reflected back at me, and for the first time I could not tell the difference between her and I. I was reminded of my power, and how magnificent I am no matter how much I may try to cower away from my destiny. The wind started to pick back up and when it was too cold to bear anymore we made our departure back to MTFWCS. 

    We had a wonderful meal of hotpot, and drank delicious locally crafted Sake with our new friends. I drank way more than I usually do- which is not at all, or once in a very blue moon. There was laughter and stories, and I talked about my career as a carpenter and how I ended up back in school in my mid 30’s. I was met with fascination and more inquiry which was refreshing. We talked about what it took to make soba, and how a new friend Togo-san’s  grandfather is a soba master. I thought about what it would be like to master one thing in life, and if I ever would. I walked away with a new perspective on dedication and the meaning of friendship. Looking back on those moments now, I think of the saying by Confucius, who said: “Is it not delightful to have friends coming from afar?” Some friends are for moments, others for lifetime, but the best ones lead us to our own virtue. 

    The next day we headed out as a group to an area near the base of Fuji-san in order to harvest the straw for the thatched roof. I was told it was an area that you needed a special permit or clearance to be in, and that you were only allowed to come on Sunday. It felt good to be a part of a team, on a mission to help preserve these traditional techniques. I was reminded of the feeling I had mourned the previous day, and I felt a piece of my heart start to mend. I thought back to an extensive reading I had received almost 10 years prior, where I learned that it would be hard for me to call one place home and that I would find peace and kinship in many lands near and far. That I am a wanderer of sorts, and I have been and will be a part of building many worlds. Observing arbitrary borders created by men isn’t my gig so to speak. I can be a part of something larger than me in any time and space, and will continue to do so. I found reassurance there. Harvesting the straw is a simple yet laborious task. We worked cheerfully throughout the day and took a break only for the local noodle spot down the road and a soft cream. Both were fantastic. 

    Later that night I lay awake churning with the full moon like waves in the ocean. The sight of Mt. Fuji illuminated by the moon was almost too much for my druid heart to bear.  I cried harder than I had allowed myself to in a long time. I knew that this moment was both the beginning and an end. The end of a chapter that took so much, and the beginning of one that would require much more of me. 

    I accepted the challenge and hurled all of the reservations I held at the full moon as she beckoned me to release and lean in. 

    -Amber Alyn

  • Finding My Place in Craft: Home is where your people are.

    Finding My Place in Craft: Home is where your people are.

    From a young age, I was keenly aware that how I thought about and approached life differed vastly from my peers and family. I often found myself studying people and their responses in different social situations. Part of this practice felt wrong- like I was a spy on a super top-secret mission to learn how to behave like a normal human being. Needless to say, that mission has yet to be fruitful, and over time I have come to accept that I will never be able to operate in all of the ways that are deemed normal. Maybe sometimes- but certainly not all the time. Just recently- as I am approaching my mid 30’s I am learning to be not just okay with that- but actually comfortable with it.

    I often find it challenging to relate deeply with others because so much of what we are taught to do is lie- about how you are feeling, about your day. Small talk has always seemed like a carefully curated container of falsehoods that I wanted no part in. In the past, I spent so much of my time questioning the intentions of others. This is because so often people’s words don’t align with their energy. Why is it so hard for us to tell the truth? Being a truth seeker in this world is rife with pain and confusion if you are not grounded within yourself.

    One thing that I often tell people that ask me about my life up until now- is that those who know me know that I have lived many lives in this lifetime. I grew up at the intersection, (at times crossfire) of many conflicting agendas. For the most part, I grew up in rural Southern Illinois born to a white mother with Southern Baptist roots from what is known as Wyoming in Blackfeet Territory. My father, as far as I know (and that’s not much) is a native black man with roots to what is known as Southern Tennessee and Mississippi in unseated Choctaw and Quapaw Territory. I do not know my father’s side of the family, but I do hope that will change in time. My mothers family is racist, homophobic, and utterly intolerable. I am the blackest of black sheep in their eyes. Despite the fact that her entire family did well for themselves, we were poor.

    Being raised in poverty gives you a different sort of outlook on life. The ability to look beyond what is on the surface and see the layers and the nuance. Creation is born out of necessity. You learn how to make more with less, to make things stretch. You find new ways to repurpose the old and bring life back to things others might just discard. To this day I have a gut reaction to throwing away food. Even if I know that it is spoiled beyond use. It physically hurts to waste it, and so much of that was tied to my relationship with survival growing up. My need or desire to not waste was often riddled with shame. Now I see that some really positive and effective systems I have today were born from some really negative experiences in my life and for that, I can be thankful. Often I think society measures success by how much you can afford to waste. Bigger, bolder, more extravagant- but to what end?

    I started this part of my journey as an Urban Farmer in St Louis. I was operating the farm mostly alone and I was making no money. I realized that I needed infrastructure to expand and keep moving and after some research, realized that hiring someone was completely out of the question and I would have to learn as much as I could myself. I had some experience in the trades up to that point but mostly just demolition, helper tasks, and building simple garden boxes. Enter my first teacher, Paul. A master builder and furniture maker this guy was good. Real good. He was also getting older and looking for someone to pass his knowledge down to while building his dream Tiny Home. The timing and alignment were perfect. We needed each other and we both learned a lot. Over the course of my time there I was introduced to methods that dated back centuries, up until the present day and my world exploded. I won’t say that I forgot about farming. I will always return to the land in that way- but I took a HARD pivot FAST. Still to this day when I look back on our time together things that he taught me are still processing and downloading. The more that I learn the more I am able to recall and integrate my teachings. I grew out of that place- as we do and had to move on. I am learning still that you can honor what you’ve learned from others without allowing their journey and their process to take up too much real estate in your mind. It can be a challenging line to walk, but the lesson for me has consistently been that honoring myself always produces my best result.

    I’ve worked for many companies who have done beautiful work in their own right- but at what cost? I learned so much about systems during my time in residential new construction. Mostly that a great system cannot actually be great if the harm that it causes significantly outweighs the benefit or the end product. Watching wildlife being actively displaced. and angry red-faced men yelling at ducks and all but running them over for crossing a road (one that we literally just built) where the forest used to be with a lake view. Those views we are parceling for a million plus a pop. It made my soul scream in ways I’ve yet to find the words for. But damn those stupid ducks right? Not to mention the tons and tons of waste we are constantly trucking out- a lot of it not really waste at all. It’s infuriating- we have these big brains and all of this individual and collective power and this is how we are using it?

    No one else ever seemed too bothered, and if they were they never talked about it. I would look around and see no one like me. Not black, not queer, not a tree-loving snowflake in sight. That’s not to say I never found common ground with my peers, on the contrary- it was mandatory to find something to maintain my sanity. BUT where are MY people? and why aren’t they here? The answers to that question have painfully revealed themselves over time. Some are obvious- others maybe not so much. I will dig deeper into and unpack those reasons here as I continue this journey.

    Historically, or as they tell it at least- building is a space for men. It is hard work and requires brute strength and the ability to totally disregard your body’s needs and warning signs to complete the mission at hand. Even in the midst of pain and discomfort… but does it really?

    Who decided? Not me and I would like to opt out of that narrative. I work hard. I am very physically strong, but my mental strength is one of my greatest. I am also tender. I don’t have to kill myself to do great work. None of us do. I can get easily overstimulated and appreciate gentle direct communication in the environments I spend the most time in. I also need space to articulate myself in ways that aren’t foreign to me. I have yet to find a space where that is accessible for me and I know many of us feel the same. I know that when I have the space to do the things I need to care for myself, I do my best work and am the most connected to others.

    Imagine a world where we could all have our ideal set and setting. Now imagine all that we could collectively accomplish if we all showed up equipped and ready to put our best selves forward.

    That is the world I am building for myself and others who have struggled to find a place to dream, create, and contribute while living in their whole entire truth.

    What is your ideal set and setting? In what ways are you showing up in your daily life that don’t align with your spirit? How can you cultivate more experiences that align with your true nature?

    *This post was originally written July 30, 2023