I have 100s of posts, not shared with readers, simply posted here. A good number of them, I think are worthy of sharing more widely, so once a week I’ll repost one and put some new makeup on her. Here’s one about chopping wood. One of our readers, a damn great running friend, Edit Berces reminded me of it, in a previous correspondence.
I wrote this poem 13 or so years ago. I was in S. Korea, making good coin, doing what I was good at but somewhere deep within, I was homesick. I was filling my soul with Li Po and the Chinese poets from the Ming dynasty and they kept reminding me that life is not about moving, keeping busy - it’s about authenticity, relaxation, being in synch with the world around you. That was what I was searching for back then - a return to Canada and just the simple things on our homestead. Like chopping wood.
I find myself in a similar situation. I don’t want to work, go back to the “grind”. I want, deeply want to remain authentic and spend each and every moment as my own, naked and alive on this planet of quiet desperation. I now again, have the same dreams of returning to the land of rocks and lakes and trees and rocks and lakes and trees and lakes and rocks and lakes and people.
Anyway - let’ see what life offers me. Enjoy the personal video and find this older post below.
It’s chopping wood season back where I grew up. Cold enough so the splitting comes easier. My father, 80 years young is out back chopping wood like he has done every year for decades and decades.
I’ve chopped many a pieces of wood, back of the house on our farm – so let me share a few of my insights about this very misunderstood art. It’s a metaphor for life, a life lived well. Study these points. Apply them to your own life.
1. Force is not what it is about. It is all about striking in the right place. Not dead center but thereabouts. Find that spot and you are a winner, she’ll give way like butter to a hot knife.
2. Your axe is you. You are one with the tool. Respect it and keep it sharp, constantly sharpen it.
3. Each piece is different. Some will give way with one blow. Others, wet, old, knotty – you’ll have to turn over and hit with the back of the axe head. Those are the victories you’ll remember.
4. The chopping block matters. Low, flat, hard and wide. Steady and stable. It should stand the test of both time and energy/force. Old and cranky is the best.
5. Listen to the sound as the axe meets the wood. There is a lot to be learned from that. Our eyes deceive us much of the time. Learn to use the other senses you’ve been gifted, including your gut.
6. If you keep at it, you can chop wood with your eyes closed. I swear you can, it is an art of the most ancient kind – the art of interacting with the physical forces around us.
7. Choppin’ wood is a necessary but very lonely job. I know of no machine that can chop wood. It is one person and one swing at a time, over and over. The winters keep coming and the labor must be done.
8. Chopping wood is very important. Our house needs wood to last the winter, to keep the cold away. We chop wood not for sport but of necessity. Respect that, honor that. It isn’t a weekend hobby.
9. The wood has to be stacked. Yes, it is fun chopping but at the end of the hour or the day – you have to measure it all. Find a way that suits you – cross pile, stack straight, lump and cover with a tarp. Whatever works for you but you’ll have to do this. We need the security of knowing we are safe, there is that pile there to keep the cold away.
10. Chopping wood burns A LOT of calories! It is tiring and after a few hours swinging the axe, you’ll be ragged, tired, dragged down…. You’ll get fit but it will always at times “hurt” and be “stressful”. So be warned. But the benefits far outweigh how tiring chopping wood can be!
My few words of wisdom straight from my chopping block.
What I Learned From The Chinese Poets
More than 50 years
have spun by me like
a drunk hurricane.
I have spent my life
going here, doing there
a homeless mind.
Now, I ache for
my land,
the unswum lakes and
fields of pine.
Two oceans away
gray hairs sprout on
my inflated head
the travels only kept
me dizzy, busy.
I skipped between continents,
got As and gave As.
Spoke to applauding audiences
and slept in Hyatts on satin sheets.
What for?
Better I stayed home
and chopped wood.
So often the simplest things--chopping wood, washing dishes, pulling weeds-- if we're attentive, teach us important life lessons. Sermons in stones perhaps.