Firewood according to Oy

Firewood according to Oy

It was cold and snowy, but it was time to cut firewood. Maybe I am a bit set in my ways, but I always stay one year ahead on firewood; not “I try to”, no, I do, and have ever since I moved into my house 6 years ago and had the option.

I start in March and like to be about done by May. I don't have to be, but procrastination is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Thinking about “not doing” something that I could be doing is intolerable. (Yes, throughout college I was that kid that finished almost every paper the night it was assigned. To a “c” standard of course, no need to overachieve in academia—i know where my priorities are).

I've come up with a host of weak logical reasons that this is an important activity. I think the wood is dryer when you burn it after it is fully seasoned. I value efficiency, and I want every stick that I cut, split, stack, season, carry into my basement, restack and finally burn, to give me the most heat that is possible. The small increase in Btu’s matters to me, especially over a lifetime.

I will pick up little twigs if I drop them—every bit matters, I really believe that, and I live my life that way.

Stocking up also works as a health insurance policy. If I do ever get hurt, I can grudgingly give up the stock pile of heat that I stashed away.

But those reason's are incomplete. If it were up to me (and wood didn't rot), I would probably stock up 25 years worth of wood. When the sun is shinning, it feels good. The chainsaw hums and vibrates as it effortlessly rips the wood. The pieces wait for the wedge to be hammered in followed by a shattering “crack” of finality and permanence as they split into pieces—it is satisfying.

It is zen.

For those of you who are unaware, I am Buddhist. Down to my core. As far back as I can remember I have been.

In my life the dog I live with, Oy, is perhaps the creature I am most fascinated by. When Oy goes for a walk it can be -5 degrees, with a 30mph wind sandblasting us with snow and he has a big grin on his face. He will give me a look that says, “THIS is fun!”.

If it is cold, hot, rainy, whatever weather the universe throws down, it doesn't matter, Oy is outside with me when I cut firewood. He stacks every piece of wood that accidentally falls into his range. Well, he stacks it like a dog would stack it; makes a pile, then relocates it again and again. All the while frolicking and jumping on to me with mud covered paws and a gleam in his eye that says, “THIS is the best thing EVER”.

Sometimes he is cold. He is wet. He is tired. Sometimes he is injured from his own misadventures (did you know a 40# dog can break a 3/8” steel cable on a regular basis?), but he plays; he smiles. He loves the moment; lives the moment, because THAT moment was the best one ever.

He is right. So as I cut wood and did yardwork in the cold and snow the last few days, I thought about him. Cold hands, a runny nose, wet feet, sore arms and back. It is all part of the experience, and the experience could be amazing. If I can't enjoy the activity I'm doing, rather than assume the activity and circumstances are the problem, I think it is likely that I need more practice overcoming the adversity I am presented with.

Rather than say, “If my fingers weren't so cold, I could enjoy this”, I think, “I'm going to learn how to enjoy this with cold fingers”. And then I practice. Again and again, because I'm not a dog, and accepting things as they are is not my natural state of being—I gotta work at it.

“Shut up and smile” his look says to me as he interminably stacks wood in the mud and snow. Smile because it is absurd not to. As a human, I aspire to be mindful and appreciative of life in a way that is innate and effortless to a dog.

So I cut wood, and practice.

Oh, and if you didn't know this about me, I make everything have meaning, then over think it some more for good measure.