Y Naddwr (The Whittler)

The Whittler wields the small blade and the large, removing little chips of wood. The smell of the wood is in the air, released by the small cuts and the large. Each stroke of the blades caresses the piece, teasing out that which is hidden within, that which was always there, waiting to be revealed. Slowly, slowly, the form emerges from formlessness.

Care must be taken, for the grain of the wood will draw the blade. The block may have small cracks that could become larger ones. The Whittler works with these, following the grain, protecting the cracks, working with the character of the block.

Sometimes, the Whittler does not know what will emerge as he works. He listens to the wood, tests it, feels it, learns where the strengths and weaknesses of the piece are, finds within it a thing of beauty, or a puzzle, or a child's toy.

Haste carries risk; a slip of the blade may remove some vital piece, or split the work. The Whittler must judge when to hurry, when to move with slow deliberation, what places to use utmost care. He must learn when to use the small blade or the large, when to take little cuts and when to slice broad strokes.

The Whittler chooses the wood, but the wood also chooses the Whittler. The two work together, one shaping the other, the second inspiring the first. They are one, both making the effort, the Whittler in the sweat on his arms and brow, the callouses on his hands, the wood with each tiny chip removed, each sliver cut away. What is removed tells as much as what remains.

On occasion, other tools may be used in the process. A saw may cut a piece from a large piece. A froe may split the wood, following and revealing the grain.

Chisels may be used to rough out the shape of the final piece. A drill for making a hole, perhaps for a musical instrument, perhaps to hang a medallion around the neck. Or the Whittler may opt for just the blades, the small blade and the large, to take that block of wood, and, step by step, little cut by little cut, work the piece into the shape that calls to him.

Studying druidry and its associated topics, following the path and the Paths, reviewing the Spirals and expanding on them, is, in some ways, akin to whittling. The Seeker is initially like that block of wood, with form hidden within. Gentle strokes of the blade of knowledge, following the grain of the Seeker's spirit, slowly reveal the potential within.

The Seeker is also the Whittler, studying how to apply that knowledge, how to bring that shape out from deep within, how to use the shape and knowledge that is already there, how to enhance it. The Seeker must know himself the way the Whittler knows the block of wood. He must learn the grain of his soul, the cracks within, the hidden knowledge that has been there all along.

When he is done, when the sweat of his hands has polished the work to a bright shine, when he lays down his tools for a time to admire his work, to see what has been revealed, what was hiding within him, he can be proud of what he has accomplished.

And then the Whittler begins again.