Some thoughts on my tools. Part one: God is in your Ankle.

I was fortunate to grow up with an artist for a father. In addition to being a passionate and talented (yet commercially clue-less) painter and sculptor, my father was also equipped with the super power of being able to build or fix anything, better than a pro. My playground was his fully equipped workshop. The quintessence of the boy's dream of a workshop. A hap-hazard assembly of various tools, trinkets and off cuts. All just waiting to be assembled into a sword, a robot, a dinosaur slaying super rifle. Through my exploration of the realm of assembly, I began to develop an appreciation for a particularly tricky bit of equipment: The Joint.
This nascent awareness manifested itself in the way in which I approached my construction projects. I would build the simple components first, then ponder what mechanisms I would use to bring it all together, to imbue the dis-joint components with the ability to fulfill their purpose.
The simplest join was the one where two components needed to be combined, in some static fashion. Cold glue, elbow brackets and even meters of utility tape could serve the purpose for these. However, as the requirements for degrees of freedom of movement increased, the materials and engineering knowledge required rapidly exceeded the range of my ability.
As a result of these sorties into the world of mechanics, and my interest in the biology of the incredible machines we call our 'bodies', I stand in awe of joints.
In my opinion, if you want to see proof of a creator, look no further than the bottom of your leg. God is in your ankle.
The ankle is the most incredible piece of bio-mechanical engineering. This particular joint is responsible for translating the vertical contraction of the major muscles in your leg, into a horizontal sprint, a hop, a jump.
As any back-yard engineer knows, this in the most difficult piece of articulated machinery to construct!
I never pay much attention to my ankles (until they ask for it) unless I am purposefully marveling at their functional beauty. Everyday, I am swinging kettlebells, dancing around a punch bag, performing a karate kata. I'm able to do all of this, because my ankles are seamlessly fulfilling their purpose in life.
I think we could all be a little more grateful for our ankles.