Yielding to the metal instead of forcing it

I'm in the shop and the frame tubes just start bending themselves under my hands — no torch, no force, just a slow agreement. The old version of me stands in the corner, arms crossed, half-laughing at how easy I'm letting it be. And I keep thinking, maybe this is what a truce feels like: the metal knows where it wants to go, and I'm finally smart enough to get out of the way.