gentleness

Knifemaking: Chainsaws, Being Gentle of Spirit, and the Lionheart

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‘Only the weak are cruel. Gentleness can only be expected from the strong.’

–Leo Buscaglia

A couple of years ago I was out in the country with a good friend of mine, giving him a hand in clearing some trees on his property.  There was a ramshackle house on that piece of property that hadn’t been lived in for years.  We were clearing the trees to make a path for the demolition equipment to come in and tear what was left of this house down so a new one could be built.

We hauled logs and trees that had already fallen.  This area had not been visited by anyone in quite some time and was quite overgrown.  We didn’t bother with any of the larger trees but anything under forty feet was fair game.  We were in the middle of the woods and it was just us.  My friend had two Stihl chainsaws and was cutting the trees down.  I was hauling the logs out out of the way and stacking them to be cut into firewood later.

We took a break- there were a lot of trees left to take down.  My friend had two chainsaws, one for each of us, so we decided to divide and conquer.   When we got started again I grabbed a saw and found that I could not get it running.  I yanked the pullcord.  Nothing.  To be safe I topped off the fuel and the chain oil.  I adjusted the choke.  I gave the pullcord another tug.  When it still wouldn’t start I assumed that I wasn’t pulling hard enough.  So I pulled harder.

My friend stopped me and told me to be gentle, otherwise I would rip the cord out.  I kindly let him know that I was an extremely gentle person.

He laughed.  ‘Maybe gentle of spirit,’ he said and gave the cord an easy tug.  The saw started right up.

That man, always with the truth.  I thought I was being gentle….

The truth of the matter, and what became clear that day, is that behind any kind of power is gentleness.  Not everything in this world can be beaten or bullied into submission, though there have been times in my life where I liked to think so.  As with the chainsaw, gentleness sometimes IS the power.  Out in the woods that day, the one who was gentle was the one who was cutting the trees down and that person was not me.

Gentleness is often seen as a sign of being weak.  This is not true, despite what has been demonstrated to us throughout our lives.  While brute and strength and force have their place, without something gentle behind them they serve only to divide and intimidate.  Gentleness serves as a means to connect.  It acts as a vessel for strength, holding it and giving it purpose.  Behind every great leader, parent, speaker, or creator of things there is something gentle.  Without that everything dissolves into fear and chaos.

This is the lesson of the Lionheart.  To find gentle is to find power.  The road to finding those is courage and bravery manifested, which are traits of someone who is Lionhearted.  It’s not an easy road for certain but the best ones never are.

This blade is a 6in filet/boning knife, built from 1/8″ O1 tool steel stock.  It was commissioned by a man who has quite a bit of Lionheart in him, and was the inspiration for the namesake of this knife:

Rough cut:

Filework on the blade choil.  This makes it easier to sharpen and provides a visual aid in creating symmetrical plunge lines:

Profiled:

Initial work on the bevels.  Removing too much steel will cause it to warp in the forge.  Ready for heat treat:

Hardened:

Removing more material after heat treat:

Hand sanding:

Satin finish:

I should have drilled these earlier, but here we are:

Rivet holes in the scales.  The wood is Redheart:

Ready for assembly:

Profiled:

Shaped:

The Lionheart:

Be gentle with that chainsaw….

Knifemaking: the Lioness, revisited

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“The stuff we make don’t go bad”

“The ugly dog barks the longest”

Tray Eppes: potter, musician, fully present citizen of the Universe

(you can find the initial crafting of the Lioness here)

So a number of years ago one of my best friends asked me if I wanted to play a gig with him and his godfather.  It was a Christmas parade in a small town about two hours away.  We were both in music school and played near any gig we could get.  Neither of had cars at the time and a big ass Dodge truck piloted by a gentleman with a large beard pulled up.  This was Tray.  On the way we stopped at a jazz club, had a few cold ones, and heard some badass tunes.  We got to Tray’s farm at around 2am and he showed me his guitar rig (at full blast).  I went to sleep to the sound of coyotes howling.  I got up and Tray’s wife had made us smoked venison with Hollandaise sauce on a lightly toasted English muffin.  We drove to town and played brass band versions of Christmas songs and it was a blast.

We played those parades for the next couple of years.  We spent a New Years out there.  As I recall we drank gin and sat in the outdoor hot tub in front of a fire the size of Rhode Island.  I make sure to keep in touch with Tray and his wife.

A couple months ago I was standing in the middle of a field working security for a country music concert, alone with my thoughts due to the fact that most of the audience was in the beer tent and there wasn’t much securing to do.  In those moments I often find myself thinking about places I’d rather be and in this case I would have rather been, well, almost anywhere else.  I decided I would call Tray and see how he made a living making the things he makes: killer pottery.

He told me about selling pottery to the Amish.  The Amish don’t have any possessions that are purely decorative. If there are pictures on the wall, it is most likely a Bible verse written in a modest calligraphy.  Likewise, nothing is frivolously decorated.  This particular group, Tray was telling me, used white dishes.  Tray also told me that white pottery is a bit more labor intensive than his normal work and the Amish are the only ones who ask for it.  So he can make a large batch of it and have it on hand and not have to fool with it for awhile.  He was explaining to the Amish man he can make it and sell it years later.

“Ahh”, said the Amish man.  “Not like spoilt cow’s milk.”

This was when he told me the stuff we make doesn’t spoil.  You can go back and rework things that you aren’t happy with.  I’ve had a few proverbial ugly dogs barking at me and recently I’ve been reworking those.   And it’s not limited to just pottery, or knives, or music…just because you were one way yesterday doesn’t mean that’s how you have to be today.

Tray also ordered a knife and a sheath.  I made him this:

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For the Lioness I found the blade to be too thick.  I went and ground down the bevel, which in turn improved the balance of the blade.  I wasn’t happy with the finish so I took care of that as well.  All of this came from a gentle place.  Nothing is going to spoil.

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O1 tool steel, Cherrywood handle, and brass hardware

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The nice thing about refinishing a wooden handle (or wooden anything) is that the grain is so much more prominent due to the permeation of the finishing oil.  The grain pops much more grandly than it did the first time around.  I see it as a little gift for going back and trying to make it better.

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I also smoothed and polished up the tang.

Tray and a much younger me

Tray and a much younger me

Check out Tray’s site at here and drop him a line

Knifemaking: gentleness, boundaries, and the Maiden

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“I was only fifteen years old and full of fire
I was a half a pound of bacon and an egg on the side
She got all the good looks, and I got all the war
She was everything I asked for, and a little more”

Francis Dunnery, Give Up and Let it Go (The Gulley Flats Boys)

This blade was a commission from a very good friend of mine.  I’ve known him and his wife for quite a few years, worked for his company, and spent much time with his family.  He lives in Maidens, Virginia, so coming up with an idea for this blade sort of took care of itself.

The inspiration for the Maiden comes from most all of the women I am close to.  Elegant, beautiful, strong, full of love, and most definitely not having any of your shit.  Or put another way, immaculately clothed but with a sword hidden beneath beneath their cloak.  Or sun dress.  Or whatever houndstooth scarf or coat is in season.  You get the idea.

No man is an island.  Sometimes it’s really healthy to have someone to tell you “hey, see that stupid thing you’re about to do?  Maybe think twice about that- you don’t need to impress anyone.” Or,

“Hey, it’s time to stand on your own feet.  No, I’m not going to carry you through this.  Don’t worry, you’ve got this.”  Or even,

“Whether you fail or succeed, I love you.”

These are strong statements but they are held by a gentleness that we don’t often give ourselves, or at least I don’t.  I’ve been known to on occasion, when left to my own devices, done that stupid thing to impress someone insignificant and not stood on my own feet and felt like love was conditional on whether I failed or succeeded.  Because whether we like it or not, at some point or another we all have moments of neediness and insecurity, self-doubt and self-sabotage, and the story-hour from hell where we ruminate on our screw-ups.  As social creatures it’s important to hear these things from others close to us.  This doesn’t necessarily mean there are dependency issues at play.  It means that we are human.  And whether we are aware of it or not, we are often giving the same support to those who help support us.

To me, these statements also represent strong boundaries- saying what is felt without expectation or condition.  Without (or in spite of) fear of a negative reaction.  Spoken not to coerce or manipulate an outcome but to help us to be ourselves.

That is the lesson of the Maiden- an elegant tool that is close in good times and the rougher times, beautifully dressed with no fucks to give.  I’ll drink to that….

I designed four of these lovely ladies and had my friend pick which on he liked best.  These three didn’t quite make the cut and that’s ok.  I went with a drop point blade- the right balance of tip strength, belly, and piercing ability.  Good for farm work.

  finish sanding

The Maiden: 1095 spring steel with an acid etch, Curly Maple handle, and brass hardware.

  

I also made her a sheath.  Wet formed for a snug fit.


I actually made two of these- in case I screwed up the finish on the Curly Maple.  This is the first one, with a satin finish.