Yes, I said “innerstanding” —
The Rastas are on point about some of the word spells we are conditioned to use.
But that’s not really the point of this letter.
I was talking with my son about the famous Zen koan the other day:
Before enlightenment - chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment - chop wood, carry water.
I don’t remember how it came up. He had some interesting takes on it.
“Maybe before enlightenment, you hate chopping wood and carrying water because it’s hard work and you’d rather be doing something else? But after enlightenment, you know it’s just what you have to do, so you do it without complaining.”
I explained that my sense of it was that after enlightenment you realize that even your chores can be enjoyable if you remain in the present moment and give attention to the sensations that are inherent in the activity, rather than getting seduced by thoughts that drag you out of your body and out of the moment.
The feeling of your muscles tensing and releasing as you swing the axe. The feel of the axe splitting into the wood. The smell of the wood. The sound of birds chirping as you’re walking back from the well or the creek…
What I had never considered until this past week — a week we have been calling Snowpocalypse here in the Tennessee mountains — is the primal nature of the activities singled out in the koan. I mean, it could have been “harvest rice and sweep the dojo” or “bake bread and feed the yaks.” Right?
I always thought the choice of wood and water was more of a poetic device. Maybe a reference to the five elements, designed to evoke an archetypal resonance. But, living through a week of snow, ice, and sub-freezing temperatures in a poorly-insulated off-grid cabin, I have a fresh appreciation for the two activities chosen by the author of the koan. They may be poetic in their evocation of the trees and of fire and of the water we need to sustain life on Earth. But they are also two of the most essential activities to maintaining life in the way people have long lived in primitive/rural environments.
Our pipes froze on Tuesday, so we’ve been without running water for the last five days. Fortunately, plenty of rain fell before the storm set in last Sunday so our water catchment tank is full. Also fortunately, my wife bought two seven-gallon camping totes with spigots a couple of years ago, so we have a way of storing water and running it into the sink to wash our hands and dishes and fill the Alexa Pure we use for drinking water.
But, with the drive and the roads impassible for much of the week, we needed a way to get water into the totes.
So one of my daily tasks this week has been going back to the catchment tank and siphoning water into the totes. (Even when the wind chill is close to zero degrees, I can report experiencing a pretty unique blend of peace, gratitude, and satisfaction when I’ve gotten the water flowing through the hose and the tanks are filling. I’m not sure how long the “carrying water” part of the equation would continue to evoke that same level of satisfaction if I lived in place where it was always this cold and siphoning water was an everyday chore. Ah, it’s so easy to get seduced by thoughts of what could be, isn’t it?)
We were unable to get firewood prior to the storm so by the time we woke up to seven inches of snow on Monday morning, we were wondering if we’d have enough wood to make it through the week. Tuesday night the wind chill was ten or twelve below zero and we burned through half of the wood we had left, just trying to keep the cabin warm enough to survive.
On Thursday, the temperatures got up above freezing for a few hours. I called Jack, the guy I’ve been getting firewood from, and he said the roads - and his dirt driveway - were passable. But if I wanted wood I’d better get over there quick before the freezing rain started.
I was never more grateful to our friend and former neighbor Howard for selling me Big Red, an old four-wheel drive Dodge Ram, at cost this summer than when I was driving down an icy country road to pick up the load of wood that would enable us to to keep the wood stove going and the inside temperature above freezing during the 48 hours of single-digit temperatures that were coming on Friday and Saturday.
Today is Sunday, so we survived. It wasn’t fun most of the time but we did what needed to be done. We mostly stayed in the moment, focused on what we could feel gratitude for, and minimized needless suffering.
And also — I am so looking forward to temperatures returning to normal in another day or so. With any luck, we’ll be back to chopping a few handfuls of kindling and a few logs to get the wood stove going in the morning before work and in the evening before bed. And with a little more luck, one of these hours I’ll turn on the tap in the kitchen sink and water will come flowing right out!
Thanks Stella! Last week was pretty freakin' grim at times. I tend to shut down when I get too cold. The poor dog spent so much of the week curled into a tight little ball on the couch, preserving energy one presumes. And...there is still a certain beauty in not having the time or inclination to think about all the mental shit that can eat up so much energy (what's going on in the world, things I "should" be doing but am not doing...I feel like this experience so far (not the extreme cold but the off grid thing) has shown me where I really want to live my life - doing simple things, enjoying beauty every day, not feeling rushed or pressured by things outside of my control...
Goodness! I'm so happy to hear you guys survived the weekend. I've only seen snow once in this lifetime and can only imagine the "Snowpocalypse". On another note I'm actually just a lot envious of the simplicity of your life - chop wood, carry water. Oh to be part of a world unencumbered by the many distractions of modern world problems. To just be focusing on simple pleasures and what you need to do to "survive". Thanks for your post, Stella