A cogitate on the philosophical value of crafting

I just finished Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury, originally published in 1950 and generally regarded as one of the best science fiction books of all time.

Near the end of the novel, one of the few learned characters, Granger, is describing his deceased grandfather, a sculptor:

"Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or flower you planted, you're there. It doesn't matter what you do, he said, so long as you change something from the way it was before you touched it into something that's like you after you take your hands away." (Page 156-157, bold text added for emphasis.)

It was that last line that got me. The act of making has intrinsic value in and of itself. You alter the world through conscious creation, adding value and imparting your legacy.

"He shaped the world. He did things to the world." (Page 156)

So, to all those naysayers out there who make excuses that your esoteric craft project is "just a useless hobby", "a waste of time", or "too amateur",  you have a response. Perhaps these objections don't come from an external critic, but rather your internal one.

Go ahead, spent a few too many late nights sewing a Halloween costume that no one recognizes (I'm guilty of that one, my co-worker still makes fun of the year I came to work with a teapot on my head. In my defense, I was the American Tea Party.) Learn how to use power tools in the name of woodworking and make your wobbly table.

You changed something to your likeness with your bare hands; you shaped the world. It doesn't matter if you didn't create a modern day Mona Lisa, your contribution is just as valuable. And that's an incredibly powerful thought.