Chop Wood
“Purity of heart is to will one thing.” -Soren Kierkegaard
Winter is coming and I am splitting wood and stacking it in three sheds.
Each log is slightly different. Some are straight and clean, some are gnarled with knots where the wood swirls and the clean grain is lost. Where to set the cleaver on this one?
I am using a wood splitter. I’ve done it by hand with a splitting maul, but that was a few years ago when my back was stronger, and it wasn’t this much timber. The log sits on a steel platform beneath the hydraulic-powered wedge. When the lever is pulled, the wedge slowly, powerfully sinks into the wood. On huge logs, the blade hits the wood and pauses, unable to penetrate. The engine groans until the log finally cracks and pops open like a pistachio.
I wear earmuffs to shield me from the engine noise. They cancel everything except the low hum of the motor. I do my work for hours, splitting the logs, tossing the pieces in the wheelbarrow lined up next to me, then wheeling to the shed where I stack the freshly cloven wood. It’s a cycle, a ritual, all done in the silence of white noise. When I quit for the day and cut the engine, I realize I haven’t thought of anything else, nothing for hours. My mind is a gold medalist in Olympic wandering, yet here I think of nothing but the wood, the aim of the wedge, the rising heap in my wheelbarrow, and when it’s time, the firm stacking of a wall six feet high that will not sag or collapse.
The old Zen koan comes to mind.
Before Enlightenment, Chop Wood Carry Water.
After Enlightenment, Chop Wood Carry Water.
I have always interpreted that conundrum as a caution against hyper-spiritualism, as a recognition that a conversion experience doesn’t immediately turn iron into gold, that what changes is not the what but the how. All of that is true, but today I understand that the meanest tasks are somehow best suited for breakthrough moments. That must be why Brother Lawrence talks about washing dishes as a way to God, why St. Therese of Lisieux actually said we could meet God in the act of—wait for it—picking up a pin.
A pin!
One of your best.
Simple. Clean. Grounded.
Meditative, mindful work.
Like God’s six days.
Great stacking, David! I grew up with wood stoves and stacking wood, so it brings back good memories. Meditate on, and enjoy the fire even more because of it.
Keep up your insightful, inspirational essays!
Thanks for reading, Judith
…”What changes is not the what but the how.” This. Yes.
Yes.
When I first went to AA they asked me to be in charge of buying snacks…what a pain in the ass trying to buy snacks before every meeting and making it before the 5pm meeting started. But that’s what makes it all so spiritual…doing the little tasks that take us out of ourselves and into helping our fellow (troubled) man. I still have a lot of wood to chop!!
That’s just it, Matt—we’ve all got a lot of wood to chop—and how lucky are we?!
Yesterday marked 8 months since I was told of my daughter’s death. The image your words evoke – ‘…on huge logs, the blade hits the wood and pauses, unable to penetrate. The engine groans until the log finally pops…’ that image is a mirrored reflection of my walk of faith. I am the wood. Christ is the blade. He will open my heart to the need for me to see His purpose. I trust Him. Thank you.