….I didn't realize how much I held back. Like most men, I kept my struggles and reflections bottled up. But with time, you learn that locking it all away doesn’t work.

For long I believed crafting and storytelling lived in separate worlds.

I could lose myself in designs inspired by ancient myths and symbols, but I stayed quiet when it came to opening up about my journey.

Sure, pieces of me were in my work, but the deeper parts were hidden. But I realized they were never meant to be separate.

My grandfather passed away years ago and it was time to clean his attic. I stumbled across something that changed my perspective: his journal. It was old, the pages yellowed with time, but the moment I opened it, I was struck by how vividly his words brought him back to life. Here he was, sharing his thoughts, his fears, joys as if we were having a conversation.

There were mundane notes, descriptions of the weather, and notes on his daily routines. Others were deeply personal, capturing moments of doubt and triumph, reflections on his purpose. The more I read, the more I realized I was having a dialogue with him, despite the years that separated us. He was speaking to me through his written words, and I found myself responding, if only in my mind.

This experience was profound. It made me think about the Norse verse I had come across some time ago, which spoke of carving runes that allowed the dead to walk and talk. 

At first, I had taken it as a mystical, almost supernatural idea. But now, holding my grandfather’s journal, I understood it differently. The runes and the words were not magic in the literal sense, but they held a power I hadn’t fully grasped until that moment. Through writing, my grandfather had left a piece of himself for me to discover. I wasn’t just reading his words—I was connecting with his thoughts, and his spirit across time.

This realization made me pause and think about the work I do. Every piece I create carries a story. But up until that point, I hadn’t allowed my personal story to become part of my creations. I kept my struggles and reflections to myself, thinking they were separate from the process of making. Now, though, I began to see the value in sharing more of myself.

I realized that, like my grandfather’s journal, my work could be a way of leaving something behind—not just for clients, but for those who might come after me. Each piece could be a conversation waiting to happen. By documenting the thoughts and emotions that went into each piece, I could offer future generations a glimpse into my mind, and my journey, just as my grandfather had done for me.

The next time I sat down at my workbench, it was with a different mindset.

We all carry stories, struggles, and reflections within us, and too often, we keep them locked away. But when we open up, even if only through something as simple as a journal entry or a conversation, something powerful happens.

Sharing our reflections isn’t just about unburdening ourselves. It’s about creating connections. When I read my grandfather’s words, I felt a deep sense of closeness to him, even though he was no longer with us. His thoughts, his doubts, his triumphs—they became part of my own understanding of life. And that’s the value in sharing: it allows others to learn from our experiences, to see a bit of themselves in our stories.

We often feel the pressure to keep things to ourselves. We think vulnerability might make us seem weak or out of control. But the truth is, opening up shows that we’re willing to engage with life on a deeper level. We’re not just enduring the struggles; we’re growing through them.

When we share our reflections, whether through words or our creations, we offer others a gift: the chance to see that they’re not alone in their journey. They might find comfort, inspiration, or even the courage to face their challenges. And in doing so, we create a ripple effect—our story becomes part of their story, and their story may inspire someone else.

So, whether it’s through the work you do, the conversations you have, or the reflections you choose to share, remember that your story has value. It’s not just about you—it’s about the impact your journey can have on others.

Philip Lufolk