Rhythm and Breath

My life feels balanced right now, rhythmic and steady.  I’ve been trying to break my day into pieces because it’s become a small agony for me to sit through a full 8-10 hour studio day while I watch the world spin between sunrise and sunset through huge windows… so I fit in four hours of work in the morning, take a noon break for a quick lunch and a ride on Resero, followed by another 4 or 5 hours at the bench and then an evening run or hunt with Robbie and the dogs.  It’s the rhythm I’ve needed.  Being outside as much as possible throughout the day informs my heart and thereby, the work of my hands.

As a result, I am sliding back into making larger narrative pieces, which are my favorite things to create, and possibly the pieces I am best known for after ten years of metalsmithing.  When I move in this direction with my work it’s always a sign that I have achieved complete integration between my heart, my habitat and the ecosystem I have tethered myself to (which exists, literally and explicitly, right out the front door here).  In short, all is well with my soul.

I have had the habit of working harder and longer at the bench to try to get a larger volume of work done because there’s pressure for me to always create more.  But these larger pieces, they are the very heart of my creative work, their epicenter is storytelling and I love that as you wear this work, you carry a larger piece of my story with you — a story of land and my own roots.

The elements from this design were taken directly from my pony express ride to the post office yesterday, which is to say, I rode Resero to fetch the mail.  It was a wonderful November day in the high desert.  I saw the red tailed hawk hunting, the wild sunflower heads rattling in hard wind, a mule deer buck by the spring, sun bleached mesa flanks heaving and rolling under partial sun, and so much more.  I’ve set this ring with a stone from the Snake River (the river I live on and rode beside yesterday), and made it precious by cutting and polishing it myself.  One of my “Save Our Souls” nuggets stitches a little something holy to this piece.
When I create like this, with a full and fearless heart, in a way that is completely true to myself and my life, I feel I have enough.  I see I have enough.  I feel enoughitude (which is the word I use in place of gratitude).  Each time I step out onto the public land that surrounds our farm, each time I ride out into the sagebrush on the back of my horse, each time I run through the bunch grass like a jackrabbit with my dogs by my side, each time I take my food as it rises from the sage into the wind on fast wings, I feel breathed into, I feel connected to every other living thing so that everything I create is a reflection of my life, a reflection of creation and the tremendous beauty in our lives, in our world.  Therein lies my reason for being, my joy, my open eyes and my purpose.  To create and not to destroy.  To build up and not to tear down.  To walk this earth and to sing my praise, as every living thing is meant to.

And here is that praise, made manifest in silver and stone.