Dana’s Story

I previously worked as an audio engineer for television production. It was my job to decide how to best record the spoken words from actors. Every job was different and every crew was different. When meeting new crew members, it was common to say your name, “nice to meet you”. Then, it was usually “so, what do you do”. Meaning: what is your job, what task do you perform in this bigger piece. If the coffee was strong I beat them to the punch “Hi. I’m Dana. I’m sound”. And they always nodded. “Oh your gear goes over there”. “Oh good you’re early”. “Oh this way to meet the camera team”. My role was my identity.

My whole life I have been around people that work with their hands. And work hard. My father was a farmer, turned small business owner, turned small town buildings and ground manger. My mother was a microbiologist, turned business partner and manager and accountant and mother. Sometimes my sister and I would bring dad dinner in the shop when he was working late, repairing some equipment that needed to go to work the next day. Other times, we would help mom with chores around the house when she had to stay late to sign off on deliveries at the business my parents ran. I heard stories of my grandfather’s taste in fine, hand made furniture. Grandma was a master seamstress who spent 40 years working in local textile mills. My dad told stories of rolling fields of crops: watermelons, soy beans, corn, cotton. He spoke of the cars and tractors he bought and sold through the years. At family gatherings my uncles would talk of black smith conferences and airplane shows.

It seems only natural that I imitated all those early role models. Learning to drive nails and tighten screws. Eventually, to cut wood, then cut metal, then solder, then weld. But always to perform a task, fill a need, fix a problem. As I grew older I started to notice a pattern. No matter how frustrating finding the problem may be (Don’t most projects begin with a problem?). If you can find a solution, if you overcome and conquer. There is nothing else like that. You have filled a void, you have expressed yourself. You have stood in the face of the natural tendency towards chaos, and sought to order it. In a way, isn’t fixing a squeaky door hinge simply a search for order? A search for peace? Are you growing that garden for extra vegetables, or are you looking for a world with fewer “super centers”. In a world of amazing complexity, it seems natural to seek out simple answers, simple peace. 

Through the years, I identify more and more as a craftsman, as someone who takes pride in skillful execution of mind and tool. Some may call this a ‘Maker’, someone who expresses themselves through building, creating. What if making is just another search for our peace? Surely anyone who has used a random orbit sander, or rolled paint over a wall, knows what it is to meditate. Meditation frees the mind of noise and worry. Meditation allows us to hear that silent voice singing our most sacred song. Afterall, what else is more sacred than how we spend our short time? By standing in opposition to what the market trends bring to the shelves near you, and saying “I think I can do better”. Isn’t that the most sincere protest, and flattery? To see something to have such value, that you would take the time to learn how to manifest that idea with your own hands. Maybe we are all searching for that, for those things of value, importance, and meaning. Maybe making is our search for meaning, our search for understanding, worship, and protest, all within our grasp. We just have to reach. So, what do you do? What do you make?