#3 - In the process

by Toby Wise

I don’t write.

I think the most I write these days is a few notes in a meeting, an email here and there, and quick descriptions of ideas I hope to eventually produce as images or video. Organizing my thoughts into sentences and paragraphs with well-groomed punctuation just isn’t my prime outlet for expression. I think I delete three sentences for every one I keep. And when I try to write something longer than a paragraph, it some how explodes beyond the original idea into a babbling amorphous blob devoid of coherent thought.

I’ll do my best to avoid that here.

I express myself far better through imagery. Call it a sweet spot or wheelhouse, I just really like it. It’s a fantastic thing to dwell in the gap between an idea and the visual representation of an idea. Its kind of like watching fireworks. Firework gets lit, rockets through the sky leaving just the slightest trace, then the boom and dazzle briefly create a moment consisting of light, color, sound, composition, and plot. Yes, even plot. But the ‘rocketing though the sky unseen’ is the part that compels me. When a good idea gets ignited it really does feel like you have a rocket booster on your back. It’s hot, fast, and the pressure is intense. You’ve got to flex to keep intact, only burning the fuel you need to get there. People say, “Wow, look at that one”, and you think, “Yup, I got to ride it”.

Ok maybe I glorified it a little. But I hope you understand me when I say the process of creating is way more of a thrill to me than the final outcome. Maybe that’s a flaw. I’m not a car guy but I could totally see myself restoring some classic ride from the ground up and then taking it out once or twice before I sell it or give it away. Really, unless I was pressed for cash I would give it away. Not out of generosity, but because I really value the process. What I wouldn’t give away is my cast iron skillet. You can pry that thing from my cold dead hands. It’s a journal of everything I have ever cooked; a canvas made for food; the central tool I need for the process of cooking. I use it so much that I recently combined my food and entertainment budget because I realized I enjoy the process of cooking more than going to the movies, restaurants, or whatever else. It is my entertainment. A good buddy of mine has the same tendencies. Give him five feet of rope and he will be entertained all night: memorizing knots, learning new ones, making up games with it, tying distracted peoples feet to a chair -- you get the idea. Some tools enable processes that have the power to captivate the heart and mind more so than any finished work could.

It’s in the process that life transitions from flat plains and map dot towns to a three-dimensional world of mountains, canyons, geysers, and forests. What a treat God gives us that our existence is not a finished product sitting on a mantle that occasionally serves as a conversation piece. We get to be part of a great unfolding, where we wander through creation only to have each step reveal a bigger, deeper, and richer world.

If I were to ask you to build a chair, where would you begin? Looking over designs and plans, choosing the right woods, measuring, finding hardware, learning to use a saw? Would you enjoy the textures, learning new skills, and appreciate the craftsmanship involved? Could you tell me every detail, could you show me every flaw? Would you immerse yourself in the process? If these questions are spinning in your head, I hope it’s not the overwhelming possibilities, but a sense of childlike discovery, for so much life is in the process.

Go make something.