Ting. Ting. Ting. The rhythmic sound of the hammer hitting the disk of pure silver fills the surrounding air with sound. Ting. Ting. Ting. At first nothing seems to be taking place. Just the sharp sound of hard metal, ringing out into the air all around the man with the hammer. It is deafening. It is slow. It is monotonous. The heat of the afternoon starts to cling to him, wetting his brow. His shoulders and back begin to ache. Ting. Ting. Ting. Sweat drips. Muscles hurt. The hammer falls again, and again, and again, in a rhythm that mimics the ticking of the clock. Slowly, at a rate so small one hardly notices it, a shape begins to emerge as a ring is formed. One slowly bent to the will of the man who patiently sits above, tapping away with his hammer. The silver in his hand seems rough and misshapen now, but with the mans steady, guiding hand it will be swaged into something important, something beautiful.
We swage our dreams bit by bit each and every day. And through this process, the dream is transformed into something new, something better.
Sometimes I look out and I see my dreams and I just want them to be achieved and completed. Immediately. I am often struck by how little patience I display at times. I want to lose weight right now. I want the book done as quickly as a sigh. The video I am working on, finished in the blink of the eye. Our dreams are almost never achieved in an instant. Our goals are not lightning. They are not something easily achieved. They are often times really hard, impossible even. They are like that silver disk, at first unyielding. Its true form, undiscovered.
My friend from high school made his and his wife’s wedding rings on my patio. For hours he sat there and swaged disks of pure silver into the shapes and sizes he needed for a sacred ceremony. This was important to him, to fashion these precious items by hand was a symbol of his love for his bride. If he tried to go too fast and hit the silver disk to hard it might fold and ruin the ring. If he didn’t hit the silver with enough force it would never yield to his design. Instead, he purposefully tapped the hammer to the edge of the disk, as he rotated it. Repeated hundreds and thousands of times the edges of the two disks folded outwards ever so slowly to become a wedding band.
I think of this every time I grow impatient with my own dreams. The slow pounding of the metal, the outpouring of dedication and love for what we do. Sit down. Write. Repeat. Sit down. Paint. Repeat. Sit down. Bake. Repeat. Ting. Ting. Ting. We swage our dreams bit by bit each and every day. And through this process, the dream is transformed into something new, something better. It becomes more vivid and lifelike than what was first imagined so long ago. Likewise, the dreamer is not the same person she was when she began chasing this crazy thing. She too is shaped and molded, bit by bit, by her dreams. Our dreams aren’t just abstract things we do on a lark. They are parts of who we are. They are precious, cherished, aspects of our lives.
So when I get frustrated with something, I like to sit down and think back to that summer afternoon so long ago. The clear blue sky over our heads. The breeze stirring the curtains. The clink of the ice as it melts all too quickly. And my friend, sitting hunched over on the porch. Pouring out his love, with each resounding tap of his hammer. Each tap creating a new possibility. Each tap, a risk taken. Each tap revealing the dream he held in his heart.