This week has been one of those weeks where the threads of life—wood, music, faith, and community—have all been pulling in different directions, yet somehow weaving together.
Woodcraft Adventures – steady hands, steady sales
On Wednesday afternoon we were back down at Kingston Beach from 2–3pm, carving and talking with whoever wandered past. There’s something about working in public that changes the experience. One returning customer came by and stayed awhile, watching the process and feeling part of it. That’s something I’ve noticed more and more: when people see the work happening, my success becomes their success. They feel invested in the process.
Sales this week have been steady rather than dramatic, but steady is often the better story.
A few encouraging developments:
- A wholesale order from Farmgate Flourist came through—over $800 worth of work.
- The CWA monthly sales arrived as well, and it was a handsome amount—over a hundred dollars.
- The Woodcraft Shop in Richmond rang and asked for another order for next week. I expect that to come to around $1000.
Moments like this add weight to a decision I made some time ago—to lean into private enterprise rather than the public sector. I often get well meaning advice that I should apply for grants for my community projects. This shows that people value my practices. Moreover, I think there is something honest about making something with your hands and seeing whether the market meets you halfway – and perhaps something lost by joining the bureaucracy.
That said, Tasmania is a tourist state. Winter comes. Things slow. I’ll let you know in a few months whether I feel the same way then.
For now, the wood keeps moving.
Music in vulnerable communities
This week I sang in three vulnerable community settings.
I’m in demand at the moment, but I try to meet the need carefully. Being a ‘community member’ in these environments means there’s a kind of unwritten rule: there’s no free lunch. Standing out too much can sometimes get your wings clipped.
Over the years I’ve learned how to hustle a little for my music teaching. Sometimes it’s something small—leaning into a note a little more than usual during a song. The director hears it, responds musically, and suddenly you have a moment you can build from.
Little signals. Musical conversations.
I also quietly run a small side hustle selling spatulas—cant say any more —and a few other small hustles I’ll tell you about another time.
More importantly, what I’ve noticed lately is the strain on the other paid music professionals. The piano player and choir director carry the weight of delivering a reliable musical service to communities that expect a standardised product. But music isn’t a factory output. It takes its toll.
Both of them have needed breaks recently, and you can see how hard it is to keep community programs running when the music itself depends on human energy. I can relate to that!
No one has really come to me yet asking for help directly—other than a few “likes” on Facebook.
If they need me, they could just ask.
But sometimes these local systems become so neutral and procedural that they stop seeing the individual. We become numbers—even when we’re the ones holding the sound of the song together.
Stay tuned. If something shifts, I’ll let you know.
(It’s been many years like this though.)
The social-psycho woodcraft workshop
The Social-Psycho Centre woodcraft workshop is still on hold.
Two months ago I ran the session once. The feedback was strong and they said they wanted it regularly. But there’s an interesting tension appearing.
They want corporate standards, but they frame it as a volunteer project.
And they seem to expect that I would pay my own costs to deliver it.
So for now, I’m… hard to reach.
We may soon find out how much organisations really value lived experience.
Spiritual gatherings
On the spiritual side, it has been a surprisingly active week.
I started a small gathering. But something unexpected happened with our official group. I received a private word from the top asking me to divide the group.
Our group had become the largest—and perhaps the strongest.
So I did divide it.
It was emotional. That group had become a real support network for people. The meeting was held at our house, and breaking it apart felt a bit like cutting your own foot.
But sometimes in hope groups you release something without fully understanding why.
Maybe you lose a hill and gain a mountain.
Time will tell.
We’ve started a few new private member gatherings with people closest to us.
On Sunday afternoon we hosted one in our new house.
We also launched a games group—friends who enjoy the big range of board games we like to play. It’s a different kind of gathering, but fellowship can happen around a table in many ways.
And we continued our street evangelism basking style.
Thursday morning, 10:30am, outside the Northgate shopping centre in Glenorchy, right by the main doors. Conversations, praise, listening to people—just being present.
Small seeds again.
Until next week
So that’s the week: wood shavings on the beach, songs in community halls, quiet negotiations with institutions, and small gatherings around our home.
Life rarely moves in straight lines.
But we keep walking.
Keep the faith, keep carving, and keep singing.
— Christiaan
