There is some of the same fitness in a man's building his own house that there is in a bird's building its own nest. Who knows but if men constructed their dwellings with their own hands, and provided food for themselves and families simply and honestly enough, the poetic faculty would be universally developed, as birds universally sing when they are so engaged? But alas! we do like cowbirds and cuckoos, which lay their eggs in nests which other birds have built, and cheer no traveller with their chattering and unmusical notes.
~Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862)~
Is there more joy to be gained from a thing that has been created by one's own hand than otherwise? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I, for one, enjoy my warm winter hat, yet strongly suspect I would enjoy it considerably less, (while feeling the winter chill more), were I the one to have laboured over its creation. (As of yet, I have shown a humble aptitude for knitting.) Shall we agree, then, that, despite the poet's words, some things are best left in the skilled hands of others?
If there is one element to the poem that has resonates with me, it is this: the act of creating brings great joy. Never before have I seen this truth more at work than this past year, in my own home.
My husband graduated from university with a degree in Computor Science. While I have yet to grasp even the most basic functions of a computor, I have sought to understand the appeal of my husband's work, for his sake. I am still seeking. Aidan says it was the potential for creativity that initially grabbed him. The ability to find unique solutions for problems, and to build something beautifully elaborate from beginning to end. Now give a man like that-- a man who gets excited about code-- a chance to build a house. . .
Aidan is a calm, deliberate man by nature. His actions are seldom governed by emotion. And he is not given to spontaneous outbursts. But lately-- I have come to know a different man. At any given moment, one might witness: Little on-the-spot jigs; sharp hand claps followed by "woo-hoo!"; or lengthy and passionate discourses about the day's work.
If he has always been in the business of creating, then what has sparked the change in him?
I suspect it has everything to do with an inherent pleasure to use one's hands. There is great satisfaction in exercising one's intellect, but I believe that in order for that satisfaction to come to full fruition, there must often be a tangible, hands-on element to it. A farmer sowing seeds, a surgeon performing an operation, a man building a house. . . These labours involve drawing from inner resources and channelling them through the body, to produce a solidly visible yield: a field, a healed body, a house.
Right now, Aidan is out in a forest using his hands. Building. Creating. Something his computor cannot offer him. And while I have yet to witness the emmergence of my husband's "poetic faculty"-- he certainly is singing like a songbird.
