Slow Down Assholes

I write an email to Shively Sensei .  And I wait.
No desire.
This is Buddhism 101.  I learned that once and for all in 1989. It took one year in darkness to see the light on that one.  It's like trying to hold onto dry Ocean Beach sand.  The harder you grip, the more it finds a way out of your hand.
For weeks I sat.  I didn't expect nor desired a return email.
I would have called but I wanted to send some pictures to SS and a phone call you can't do that.

The email said.

I want to make something to fill a hole.
No trim.  No jam.
Either a single slab or a bookmatch.
I'm completely open to any species except for the fucking walnut stuff.  Sick and tired of walnut.
Finished out to 33"x96"

Weeks go by.  I am buddha though.  I have learned what I have learned.

An email shows up.  "How about some Iron Bark Eucalyptus?"  Two photos are attached.

A day and time is chosen for me to make the pilgrimage out to West Marin, close enough to the Pacific that you can feel it right over the ridge.  A day and time because that is Sensei Shively's tao.  The first time I went there I was not to buy anything but only look.  That is how it works.

I leave early and drive slow.  That is part of it, the preparation of the ego to let it all go.

California is green right now.  Drink it up.

Roads wind through openness.  Roads deadend.

Finally you turn off the road and hit dirt mud gravel potholed abandoned houses.  At the first Y is the slow down assholes sign but that's it as far as directions go.  You're on your own from here.  The first time here if it weren't for the sound of the sawmill I might not have found it.
Even now I make wrong turns.
This, by the way, is not what you want to turn down.

I am parking as Shively is walking down to the office with another man.  I shake Sensei's hand and bow slightly as I say "Evan."
The other man smiles.  He knows.  He understands.

He puts his earmuff/helmut down on beauty.

Now folks, I've been here before but every time is the first time.  Evan has selected out of untold thousands of pieces of wood/life/spirit, your pieces he thinks are right.
And puts them in here....

 Every time I walk in is the first time.  I exclaim, I exhale, the spirit has entered.
The scale here is huge for wood.  Unbelievable wood, each piece more than just some sawn plant material but very life and art and spirit in each.
It's church.
It's the very highest of art galleries.

 I've lightened these photos up.  Evan keeps it very dark, like you're walking into a cave covered in ancient paintings of animals and people hunting.

There are birds singing inside.  Trees and birds singing.  It's mystical.  It's magical.

"We think they are in that vent work."

The scale of the pieces blow the mind.  That horizontal piece is maybe 4-5'x 10'

And yet this stuff is also super thin.

Evan says, "Yes, it's church but everything comes with a price tag" and smiles.

Look around he says and leaves.  Cory takes over.  She tells of ideas Evan had for design, he's thought about it, he just doesn't tell a worker to jump on the forklift and pick up random stuff.  I tell her I did some sketches already from the photos they had sent. It's close to their design but I have joinery, handmade handle and handmade hinges already figured out.  She is satisfied at this.

Cory tallies up the board feet.

This is why I come.  There is something different going on here.  If you don't know, you don't come.
If you don't get it, you don't come. If you don't feel it, you don't come.

I'm not going to post a link here.  You will need to find your way here yourself.