As I was out chopping firewood this week, I found I was enjoying the simplicity of the task in much the same way as I do running. Sometimes a log wouldn’t want to split, but if I whacked at it enough, eventually a crack would form, and I’d slowly be able to chop it down to usable pieces. It reminded me of the Zen proverb, “Before enlightenment, chop wood, carry water. After enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” It’s essentially a nod to the tasks of life that continue, regardless of what else is happening.
Fall can be a heavy time of reflection and change. Our mountain ventures ebb as the snow creeps down the mountainsides, and inevitably, more time means, well, more time … to think. For better or worse, we’re forced to go inward as we try to settle and prepare for the coming of winter. Gathering, splitting, and stacking the firewood is a metaphor for our brains and bodies as the sunlight fades.
Sunlight becomes more scarce as fall turns to winter. Photo: Hannah Green
Recently, I was high in the mountains. We crossed through the mountain passes, following a solitary moose’s tracks through the snow. Anna Frost paused as something caught her eye. Lying on the ground was a beautiful but lifeless monarch butterfly. Rare to see in the summer months, especially up high in the mountains, we marveled at it before continuing up. An hour later, we found another one on the other side of the pass and puzzled at where, or why, they ended up here. Were they blown off course during their migration, perhaps by the recent hurricane? Whatever the cause, it felt very special to see them, remembering the fragility and fleeting nature of everything in life.
A monarch butterfly blown off course. Photo: Hannah Green
Change can be hard, and holding onto the constants in life, like a daily run in the woods, is the stabilizing force that can ride the tide. Probably one of the more profound things I heard this summer was when Anne Flower — who broke the 31-year-old course record at the Leadville 100 Mile — mentioned in an interview her fear of running a 100-mile race and ending up with an injury that would keep her from those daily runs that are so important to her mental well-being. I am realizing that groundedness and stability, even in the form of a few miles of daily jogging, are extremely important, especially in adventurous lives where we choose to pursue ambitious goals.
I swing the axe, “Thwhack!” I pick up the halves and, “Thwhack!” again. I chop into the fading light. Thoughts come and go, and the stresses of the day, the weeks, the months, dissipate. Metaphors aplenty, I think we often overthink a lot of life. Like running, for instance. Instead of just running, we race, we train, we complicate what is otherwise a pretty simple activity. Consider our watches, as they have more metrics than are necessary if you’re looking to simply run.
Running, in its essence, is a simple sport. Photo: Hannah Green
When it comes to Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, running — at its basic form of movement and making us physically and mentally healthy — sits at the base of the pyramid of physiological needs. Much like gathering wood to stay warm for the winter, it is a necessity. Of course, it’s not running specifically — you could walk, climb, bike, farm, do construction work, practice yoga, or do any form of physical movement. The other components of running — training, physical therapy, social connection, racing, or big objectives — go up in the pyramid, but without the base, we can never reach them.
In other words, chop wood, carry water, and just run … everything else will follow.
Call for Comments
- Do you find yourself overthinking things more as the seasons change?
- What daily routines keep you grounded?
