The Hammer & The Hand Are Blind: Volume 2
The Hammer And The Hand Are Blind
The Power Of The Hand Is In The Writing | Lyrics
Caleb, my friend - You wrote these words to me [pause] (or, what is more true, you spoke, and then my iPhone wrote the words...):
“I like it man I like seeing your handwriting. It gives it gives it a human quality. I don't know I just my eyes like it might like to read it so I'll be given that a shot. I don't know. I don't have a ton of time right now.”
End of Caleb's words to me - and the beginning of mine outward to all and any and whomever and whatever and whatnot and hoo hoo hoo!
And, so, I take it up, and speak to Caleb
No doubt - you’re a busy person right now. I just want you to know this: When, if, when I send you something, there is no expected obligation on this side for you to read, comment, or whatever. I’m just sharing with you.
There is NO WAY you could sit down and ‘read through’ my written pieces and say: “There! I’m done!” If anything, I would see you perhaps finding one that stands out from the others, and so you stand it up, and you return from time to time, to play with it.
Indeed, these are short enough such that if you read one through a number of times - it can, with small effort, be memorized - and then carried with you through the day.
Such is really the way to engage these pieces. For, if you were to, say, memorize one, two, or three of the ones that catch your attention - like the tiger catches you, or not. But - I digress.
I promise you that, as you go through your day, you will see, hear or experience something that will at once recall said written-memorized piece to your mind. And you will say: “Oh. Oh! Ha. Now I see it. Some of it, at least.”
Many of the pieces share a similar structure: On the one hand, a piece ‘discusses’ a specific, particular subject matter. On the other hand, this ‘discussion’ is done in such a way so as not to obscure the more universal structure at play. In this way, to fully engage the written piece as written, verbatim, without alteration, and even spending time SPEAKING it out loud… this process will in-stitch the UNIVERSAL structure into your psyche.
For Your Information
I’m currently listening to this.
For Your Information - I’m currently listening to this - a podcast - "Aliens, Demons, & Satanic Rituals" with Bek Lover on Julian Dorey.
As I type this note… and, the guest just mentioned: “John The Baptist”
… just an interesting aside. For, “John the Baptist” is a piece contained in the PDF I sent you. Anyway, let's continue.
But - I digress.
You wrote: “I like it man I like seeing your handwriting. It gives it gives it a human quality. I don't know I just my eyes like it.”
At the moment, for now, before THE BOOK, I’m going to aim in a different direction. Before I upload some ePub to Amazon and leave it there to die, I have a few other ideas.
One.
These written pieces work well in different groupings. And, for any given group of, say, 5 pieces, they can be ordered in one way or another way to tell one story or another story.
So, one, I see myself producing a physical product, i.e., a Deck Of Cards, if you will - bigger than playing cards, smaller than letter sized, big enough to read easily, a size for handling, small enough for easy carry, one hole in the corner of each for a way to bind them all together with a “key ring,” possibly magnetized, etc.
And, on the back of each piece, there will be suggested pairings and groupings.
The idea, my idea, is to produce something that is FUN TO PLAY WITH, in addition to being philosophically profound.
Print it out on nice card stock, and so on, and on and on.
Two.
On the other hand, after that, I’ve been looking at DIY Bookbinding. I’m currently attracted to the method using needle and thread.
I believe this is the right way to go. In fact, see the included Dark Side piece, “The Historical Record,” in which I articulated this idea long, long before I tripped over it regarding the Dark Side pieces.
In short, I just don’t want to throw my work to the wolves on Amazon. Not just yet. Why offer my best to a mob of unknowns? I’d rather shop my work around from friend and associate to friend and associate.
But, to do that - I gotta have a product, AN ARTIFACT, if you will.
Be safe out there, kid!
William
Impact does not see.
That is the first law.
The hammer comes down because the hand sends it. It does not ask what waits beneath the blow. Nail, bone, beam, glass, hinge, skull, table, cradle, coffin — all the same to the hammer. The hammer knows only descent.
That is not evil. That is worse than evil.
It is function without witness.
The hammer does not hate what it breaks. It does not love what it builds. It does not remember the porch it helped repair. It does not repent for the window it shattered. It does not know the difference between a house and a wound.
It strikes. That is all.
But the hand is blind too. That is the part that bothers the maker.
The hand believes itself because it moves. It reaches and thinks reaching is knowing. It grips and thinks grip is understanding. It cuts and thinks the cut proves the line. It writes and thinks the mark means truth has arrived.
Motion flatters the hand. Force flatters it more.
The hand loves evidence it can feel: pressure in the wrist, weight in the palm, resistance in the material, the little shock that travels back through the fingers when the blow lands. There is an intimacy there. The hand says, I was there. I touched it. I made contact. Therefore I know.
No.
Contact is not knowledge. Impact is not sight.
A blind man can still hit what stands in front of him.
The danger is not that the hammer is blind. Everyone knows the hammer is blind. The danger is that the hand forgets it is blind because it is attached to a mind full of reasons.
Reasons are the hand’s favorite mask.
I had to.
It was necessary. It was obvious. It was clean. It was deserved. It was efficient. It was the only way. It sounded right. It felt true. It needed doing.
Maybe. Maybe not.
The hand has lied before.
The hand has reached for what should have been left alone. The hand has tightened around the wrong thing. The hand has signed too quickly. The hand has struck while calling itself honest. The hand has confused anger for clarity and clarity for permission.
That is how damage enters wearing work clothes.
The hammer and the hand are blind. Not equally.
The hammer is blind by nature. The hand is blind by habit, hunger, hurry, injury, pride, and fear.
A tool cannot see. A wounded hand may refuse to.
That is why speed is dangerous. Speed gives blindness momentum. It turns a mistake into a method before the room can object. It lets the hand get there before the judgment does.
Fast hands build crooked houses. Fast hands write clean lies. Fast hands cut first and name the wound afterward.
The old makers knew this. That is why they made rituals around force. Measure. Wait. Clamp. Square. Sight the edge. Feel the grain. Let the material answer before the blow arrives.
The ritual is not decoration. The ritual is how the blind hand borrows sight.
A bench is borrowed sight. A vise is borrowed sight. A square is borrowed sight. A pause is borrowed sight. An honest friend is borrowed sight.
Pain, when not crowned king, is borrowed sight. The dead, if remembered cleanly, are borrowed sight. The body, when it says stop, is borrowed sight. The page, when it resists the sentence, is borrowed sight.
This is why the hand must not rule alone. The hand chooses where to cut, yes. But the hand must be corrected before it cuts.
Otherwise choice becomes appetite with a pen. Otherwise craft becomes impact with better language. Otherwise the maker becomes a man swinging in the dark and calling the noise construction.
The hammer and the hand are blind.
So do not praise the blow too soon.
Look at what stands after. Look at what leans. Look at what cracked but stayed silent. Look at what was forced into place and now hums wrong in the wall. Look at who cannot breathe in the room you built.
The hammer will not tell you. The hand may not want to.
But the work knows. The work always knows.
That is the hard mercy of making. The finished thing testifies. It reports on the hand. It remembers the haste. It remembers the arrogance. It remembers the patience too. It remembers every place where force waited long enough to become care.
A good cut is not proven by sharpness. A good cut is proven by what it preserves. A good blow is not proven by sound. A good blow is proven by what holds afterward.
The hammer and the hand are blind.
Therefore, slow down. Not because slowness is holy by itself.
Slowness can also be cowardice. Slowness can hide. Slowness can rot. But chosen slowness gives judgment time to arrive.
Chosen slowness lets the hand discover it is not the whole intelligence of the body. The wrist knows one thing. The shoulder knows another. The breath knows another. The room knows another. The old scar knows another. The quiet knows another.
The hand must listen sideways. That is craft. Not mastery. Listening force. Answerable impact.
A blow that has been questioned before it falls. An incision that knows what it must not harm. A line that does not confuse being written with being true.
The hammer and the hand are blind. That is not despair. That is instruction.
It means tools must be placed under witness. It means movement must be placed under judgment. It means certainty must be made to wait at the door until the work has had its say. It means the hand does not become trustworthy by choosing. It becomes trustworthy by submitting its choice to what can correct it.
Grain. Weight. Time. Consequence.
The living. The dead.
The mark. The room after the mark.
The hammer is blind. The hand is blind.
But the work, if you let it, will teach them both where not to strike.
