Whittling, a love letter

I don’t even know why I started to whittle, all I know is that I desired to do so for a long time but was afraid to. 

In a moment of absolute bravado I just decided to try. I bought a starter pack filled with a knife, some small blocks of wood and instructions and set to work. 

It was so hard, the knife didn't make a dent in the wood and I had sore hands within minutes. 

I researched and figured out what stropping was: the act of sharpening a knife using a piece of leather glued to wood and something functioning as a sort of sharpening wax. 

I bought the necessary supplies, stropped my knife, tried again. Watched videos and tried sharpening my knife once more. 

Then, all of a sudden, I felt like I knew what I was doing. I was making something I loved. 

I still failed too, a lot. I cut away things I shouldn’t have, wasn’t able to straighten something and in the end cut away too much. 

But that didn't stop me from loving to whittle. Nothing calms me down as much as whittling does. 

I have to be fully focused on it, otherwise I might cut myself despite the cut resistant gloves I wear. 

And in that is the gift. No matter what the result is, I have succeeded. 

I have made something. I have found quiet within. 

And that is a gift I cherish.