Afternoon Thoughts While Splitting Firewood
Sometimes I just sit and wonder
There is an old saying that Zen isn’t meditating while you do the laundry. Zen is doing the laundry. It is the common, mundane activities we do in our daily lives that keep us grounded. Laundry is one of them. Cleaning the bathroom is another. If you want to experience reality, do the dishes.
For me, it’s splitting firewood.
That is what is on my mind as I make my way out to the woodpile. My small tractor, my faithful steed, pulls the wagon that will contain the wood I split. As I drive down the wagon-rutted trail, “Old Town Road” plays in my head. “I’m gonna take my horse to the old town road. I’m gonna riiiiiiiiiide till can’t no more.” It’s a twisted kind of humor that makes me enjoy something like that.
When I arrive at my woodpile, I see about ten cords of wood I have already cut into 16-inch lengths last spring. Most people would rent a hydraulic log splitter to do this kind of work, especially at my age. But I’m in no hurry. It’s not the wood, per se, so much as the experience of being here that is important to me.
Situated next to the wood, I have a larger chunk that I use as a chopping block. I select a piece of wood to be split, set it on the chopping block, and take hold of my splitting maul. A splitting…
