The Zen of Chopping Wood

Some days just seem tough. Something goes wrong or seems unfair. I have an irresistible urge to do something to make everything right. It's at that time that I close my eyes, take a deep breath and head for the chopping block.

All my troubles are solved at my oak chopping block. I bring out my trusty Fiskars super splitting axe, 6 pound maul, wood grenades, and wedge. I fell a lovely oak that leaned against a dead pine tree in our forest. The earth shook when Leaning Oak fell to the ground. Since then, I have had the joy of splitting rounds of oak.

Splitting oak takes some serious concentration. I find that the perfect remedy to my foolish, irresistible urges to try to fix people and situations. I just keep splitting oak until I am thoroughly cured of that curse of the gods. Sometimes I swing my axe and maul for four or five hours. By that time I am so exhausted that I couldn't do anything about the person or situation even if I wanted to. And, amazingly, everything comes out just fine without my interference!

My axe is made by the same company that makes scissors. It is not the humongous axe that Paul Bunyan swung or Abraham Lincoln, for that matter. It is a scientifically engineered axe, sharp as a razor blade, that will defeat even the most gnarled, knotted round of oak. Not that it is easy, mind you. Some oak rounds that are especially difficult take me over an hour to completely split up. It is me against the knotty, gnarled oak round.

I find that each oak round has its particular character. Sometimes I am lucky. The round, although 21 inches long and 30 inches in diameter, is without knot or bend. It is straight with nice stress marks on the ends to help the splitting. I spit the round without major troubles. Other times the oak round has a nasty knot or has been cut at an angle. That requires some real intelligence and focus. I need to wield my axe for effect, making sure that I don't miss and cut off my leg. This axe is so sharp that just touching my arm cuts it! This is not an activity for the distracted or the careless. And that is the heart of the Zen of Chopping Wood. Total focus.



I didn't always win. At one point, my Fiskars bounced off the oak rounds like canon balls off Old Ironsides. I could see how Old Ironsides, made of oak, earned its reputation. Not to be defeated, though, I learned of a Fiskars axe sharpener. After buying that for about $10, my fortunes changed. I have yet to find an oak round that could beat me, even with only a 6 pound maul for back up.

I had suffered from another challenge for four years before I found a solution. Squirrels raiding my bird feeder. Every time I devised a new way to foil them from gorging on the hanging bird feeder, they found a solution. The squirrel proof feeder failed. Hanging the feeder by a cord over a branch 20 feet up failed. After a couple months, the squirrels decided just to leap to the earth when I approached! Now I know how squirrels learned to fly. Actually, I defeated them after I gave up. I just happened to buy cheaper bird feed. The recession, you know. The birds kept coming but the squirrels couldn't be bothered! So, I guess there is a Zen of defeating the squirrels, as well. I won by giving up!

Some urges require only an hour to subdue. After splitting a single round, I am ready to get back to work without doing anything foolish. Other urges require the full five hours, until I am limp and senseless and full of the joy of delightful exhaustion. I drag myself back into the house without the ability to do anything stupid. I just take a shower and collapse. And, to my continual amazement, when I finally regain my strength, the problem no longer exists!



I have considered other ways to try to deal with the desire to kill people who wrong me or do something stupid. First, kill the person or people. Fortunately, I have never acted on that! Second, drink myself silly. That never worked because I really dislike alcohol. I can't even bare the taste of red wine, which I tried to drink for my health. Third, hitting golf balls at the driving range. That is not bad, but at the end of the day I am out $12 and have nothing to show for my labor. No, none of those for me. Just give me my rounds of oak, my axe, maul, and wedges, and I'll solve any problem by not acting on it. And I have a stack of lovely oak firewood to burn in our Harman Oakwood next winter. Yes, the Zen of chopping wood is to solve the problem by not solving it!

Christ in Tremper's Field

The best part of every day for me is when Cayman, our Rhodesian Ridgeback-Yellow Lab dog, begs for a walk. We have been blessed with a home that sits on 3 acres of lovely forested land adjoining about 250 acres of forests and fields.

I especially love when Cayman and I take a walk during the late spring and early summer. As we walk through our property, along a steep path with undulating hills, the "best dog in the world" sets the pace. He prances, walking with a princely gate swaying side to side, with his trademark floppy ear laying back on his head.

Cayman is a beautiful dog. Friendly, happy, strong, big, obedient, kind with children and other pets. Although he is, indeed, hell on wood chucks. I have to do my best to get to him when he catches one to save the poor wood chuck. So far I have succeeded every time. A couple years ago, Cayman ran after deer and disappeared for a few hours. Today he obeys my voice and holds back, letting the graceful deer bound away, white tail switching, into the forest.

Lately, Cayman and I have enjoyed walking daisy lane into Tremper's Christmas tree field. That is the most glorious stretch of path through fields and forest that God every created. A couple months ago, white daisies clustered in choirs singing Hallelujah at the top of their lungs. A few weeks ago, brilliant yellow daisies with black button centers joined the chorus. They make perfect harmony, the heavens sing with the angels joining in as Cayman prances and I joyfully stroll along daisy lane.

For me, the true glory of our daily walk begins in Tremper's field. The Tremper family had lived on the farm for hundreds of years so I have fittingly named the field, Tremper's field. The trees in Tremper's field have much to teach. An aged Dogwood stands fully in the field without any trees nearby to block its sunlight. Without competition, the Dogwood has grown into a magnificent tree, spreading over a large patch of field with its branches stretching out perfectly in a tall umbrella under the heavens.




In May, the Dogwood blooms perfect blossoms. The blossoms even surpass the perfection and beauty of the daisies along daisy lane. After the blossoms fade and fall, I think nothing to follow could rival their beauty. Yet, the Dogwood has not finished astounding me. Throughout June and into July, its perfect leaves panel out taking advantage of every inch of air and sky. The picture is perfect and joyful to behold.

Yet the most astounding change comes during the late fall and winter, after all Dogwood's leaves have fallen. Standing gnarled and rickety, the Dogwood reveals its age. Surely the tree is old enough to be in the last years of its life. Yet, even in its last days, the Dogwood revealed its vigor through the beauty of its blossoms and leaves. Although gnarled and twisted, it is surely in its prime.



Other trees stand in Tremper's field grandly, alone, spreading their branches covering vast distances in umbrage and height. They, indeed, are glorious. Yet none of the trees give me pause like that noble Dogwood. Poems have been written about the spreading Chestnut tree, yet the state of Virginia named the Dogwood blossom its state flower. Like Virginia itself, the Dogwood is old and gnarled, yet beauty returns to its branches even in old age.

There is even a legend that the Romans nailed Jesus on a cross made of Dogwood.

Legend of the Dogwood

~ Unknown

In Jesus time, the dogwood grew
To a stately size and a lovely hue.
'Twas strong & firm it's branches interwoven
For the cross of Christ its timbers were chosen.

Seeing the distress at this use of their wood
Christ made a promise which still holds good:
"Never again shall the dogwood grow
Large enough to be used so
Slender & twisted, it shall be

With blossoms like the cross for all to see.
As blood stains the petals marked in brown
The blossom's center wears a thorny crown.

All who see it will remember me
Crucified on a cross from the dogwood tree.
Cherished and protected this tree shall be

A reminder to all of my agony."

Rather than symbolizing the cross to me, the Dogwood in Tremper's field symbolizes Christ. He had the courage to stand out among people, to reveal his glory like a city on a hill, like a lighted candle on a stand. He did not hide among people but strove to become the example for all people.

We can learn a lesson from that awe inspiring Dogwood. Seek to stand in a place in the field unencumbered by other trees. Give gratitude when we are placed as a seed far removed from others so that we can grow to our fullness. We will grow into who we have been destined to be by the creator and designer of the Dogwood seed. It takes courage to stand alone in the field, choosing to stand in the full light of day rather than cowering in the crowded forest. Full grown, grandly expanded, in full view for all to see and enjoy. Our majesty, like that of the Dogwood, abounds in the boundless field.

Yes, my daily walk with Cayman through Tremper's fields is a gift from God. I take a step outside myself into the glory of God through his creation. I find myself in the white and yellow daisies, in the Oak and Magnolia trees, among the bounding deer and the soaring hawk. I find myself in front of the glorious, gnarled, blossom bedecked Dogwood in the openness of Tremper's field.

Although many grand Dogwoods have spread their branches over fields throughout the past 6000 years since the dawn of human civilization, none have been as glorious as the one I see every day on my walk with Cayman through Tremper's fields.