The weight you choose to carry
A weight tells the truth. It doesn’t care how you describe yourself. You can move it today, or you can’t. There’s relief in that kind of honesty.
The Journal
The things we carry. The beliefs we question. The beauty we almost pass by. Writing, images, and long conversations from Iron, Logos, and The Arts.
8 entries
Concept studies explore the voice of Iron & Logos. They are marked below; recordings described in studies have not been released.
Concept study
A tool is a responsibility
It’s easy to fall in love with equipment. The finish, the weight, the feeling that owning the right thing makes you more capable. The harder question begins after the purchase: what have you actually learned, and…
Who are you when nobody needs you?
Take away the work for a moment. The requests. The small emergencies. The usefulness that keeps your days full. What’s left when nobody is asking you to be anything?
The man my children think I am
I wonder which version of me will survive in their memory. The one I explain, or the one they experience when I’m tired. Whether they’ll remember what I said about patience, or the room going quiet when I lost mine.
Do I believe this, or did I inherit it?
Some beliefs arrive before we have words for them. At a table. In a church. In the things a family will discuss and the things it won’t. Familiarity can feel very much like certainty.
What the beautiful thing has survived
Look at the grain of an old table. The dark ring, the split near the edge, the place where a hand has worn the finish away. We could call those things defects. We could also ask how much of its beauty would remain…
After the rain
The porch keeps the shape of an empty chair. Rain moves through the timber. Light finds what it can. I leave the book open where the page refuses to stay flat.
Learning to stay with a frame
A place can become familiar enough to disappear. The same road, the same tree line, the light crossing the same floor. A camera can ask us to stop passing through.