Points of fissure

Right there, right across the middle of the spoon on top, is a crack.  It's not a very big crack, and might for all practical purposes not even be thought to be anything even to consider, but it was there, and I considered it.  Because I have this rule of sorts - I will use everything that happens to and within the wood I'm exploring as a catalyst to lead me into that wood further.

I began to go back into the wood to the point where the crack disappeared.  It was quite a ways back, but I kept going.  At one point I began wondering if I would end up carving away the whole end of the spoon.  But if that happened, that was what was meant to happen.  The fissure was not just there within the wood, but set upon a whole landscape of potential that the spoon was moving upon.  Sometimes you just cannot get across, sometimes you don't even want to get across, and sometimes there is really no need to even think about getting across.  You move where you move, and the landscape, which to a large extent is your perception of your placement upon it, adjusts accordingly.

It's like so many points of fissure in our lives - we discover them, or maybe we don't, we explore them, maybe we don't, but sometimes they cannot be denied, like rifts and tears across what we set as concrete plans, maybe dreams, maybe hopes, maybe just a day to day expectation of things working out in one way rather than another...  If we "track them up", follow them in, it might be that we readjust everything around them, and us, and all of those plans and dreams...  Why do they appear?

Maybe the wood had been drying too fast, and the crack had formed when the wood could not be as resilient to its reshaping as it would have needed to be. Likewise, maybe we head into certain spaces too fast, or with an "off" sense of perspective...

I finally reached a point where there was no more crack - even as I knew that a crack doesn't really ever just end.  It's movement within the wood carried well beyond the physically seen evidence of its existence.  I was careful to be gentle at that point where the crack seemed to disappear - it remains there, a point of fissure, somewhat invisible, somewhat not there, yet always there...