Shaping Smith and Steel
Work is love made visible. And if you cannot work with love, but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.
Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet, (from the section “On Work.”)
I’m learning to be a blacksmith.
My new home is just a few miles down the road from a living history museum that celebrates the period of steam power.
They were looking for volunteers to work in the blacksmith’s shop.
While I have no experience as a blacksmith, they were willing to train me.
I started with simple S-hooks and moved to more demanding projects.
I am still a rank beginner, but already I’ve noticed how being a blacksmith requires many of the same attitudes and skills as life in general.
Patience shapes steel and self.
I heat the metal stock in the forge watching it glow from black to red, to orange, and then to yellow.
At the anvil, I strike carefully, but when the red begins to fade, I reheat it, repeating the cycle until the piece is done.
If I get in a hurry, I can create problems that need to be fixed or even distort the piece beyond recovery.
I’m reminded of the Navy SEAL saying, “Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.”
Life, too, rewards patience — hasty choices, like hurried blows, often need fixing.
Opportunity is fleeting.
While I need to be patient, I also need to work the metal efficiently taking advantage of the narrow window of opportunity.
When I take the piece out of the forge, I need to be ready to work.
I need to have the scale cleaned off the anvil.
I need to remove any tools left in the hardy hole or on the face of the anvil.
I need to have my hammer at hand.
And then, I need to work without delay.
With the purchase of this new home, my wife and I were able to take advantage of an unexpected opportunity.
Within three days of the listing appearing online, we arranged financing and had an accepted offer.
Technique must adapt to the situation.
Some hammer blows require power; others must be delicate.
If I use wimpy blows when drawing out or upsetting, I’ll never make any progress.
If I wallop a fine taper, I can leave tool marks or even ruin the project.
Flexibility turns flaws into art.
Metal often resists, bending in unexpected ways, but love for the craft — Gibran’s “love made visible” — inspires me to adapt.
A miss-struck curve becomes a new design, like turning life’s mistakes into opportunities with creative resilience.
Learning is never done.
No matter how much I learn and how much experience I gain, I will always be learning to be a blacksmith.
There is always a skill that needs to be refined or a new technique to learn.
Just like life, the more I learn, the more I realize I don’t know.
Blacksmithing has forged more than steel — it’s shaped me.
Each lesson, from patience to endurance, echoes Gibran’s truth: work, infused with love, becomes visible in our growth.
As I hammer on, I’m not just crafting hooks but a stronger, wiser self, ready for life’s next anvil.
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