Zen and the Art of Firewood
Especially in Japan, any craft or manual activity can become a path or an art. The most well-known paths are the Way of the Wood, the Way of Tea, the art of calligraphy, and many more.
Here, I would like to briefly introduce the path of firewood.
First of all, I love this physical work outdoors in the forest with this wonderfully fragrant material, wood; no work is more beautiful. I love sitting by the hot stove in winter; no source of warmth is more pleasant.
Firewood is an ecological fuel; it’s easy to handle, heavy, rather warm, and feels very good. Firewood is something archaic and fundamental at the same time, because every human being has the basic need to be warm and to cook, and has used wood since the discovery of fire.
Every person needs a certain amount of energy, and nature readily provides it. The forest gives us everything we need, and the universe adds water, sun, wind… enough for everyone, without any effort on our part, were it not for humankind, which always seems to need more for its frivolous pursuits and to prepare for lean times.
The journey of firewood, therefore, begins with developing and expressing gratitude, and simultaneously with a keen awareness, openness, and curiosity about the complex system of interdependence. Over time, this will intensify unconsciously, naturally, and automatically.
The forest can become a myth, especially in Germany for historical reasons. For us Germans, with our Celtic roots, the forest can be sacred. Until the Middle Ages, forests were considered sacred and contained special sacred groves, mostly of oak, ash, or yew trees, where druids once worked. Those who enjoy being in the forest can sense its sacredness.
The forest is often difficult to access and wild, thus posing a certain danger for anyone working there alone. Even without external factors like wind, large branches can simply fall, or dead trees can topple over. When you’re in the forest, you often can’t see the weather coming; sudden changes with thunderstorms, lightning, and gales are part of the experience.
Therefore, you need to be attentive and curious, to learn to read or listen to the forest, but also to prepare rationally and logically for a few eventualities that might occur. Essentials include a first-aid kit, provisions, a lighter, rain gear, and tools.
For me, working with firewood in the forest is something wonderful because there was a reason to be there: I got to make a fire, grill, push my limits, and perfect the technique of chopping wood by hand without getting hurt.
Working with wood has always been a great joy:
Felling, a high art, is something I prefer to avoid for safety reasons.
Moving logs with good technique and without much effort, just like carpenters do with beams.
Sawing: Sawing the tree where it wants to be cut; sawing in such a way that the chainsaw doesn’t jam, cutting pieces of equal length; caution: Trees and branches are under great tension, so saw correctly without putting yourself in danger of being pinched or hit by splinters; sawing in such a way that it can be easily split afterward. Energy-saving sawing, ergonomic sawing, not sawing yourself to exhaustion…
Splitting with the splitting maul and splitting wedges: The wood wants to be split; splitting a log with just a few blows, ideally only one, requires learning to read the wood: Where exactly to strike?! Furthermore, I need to be able to swing the hammer technically skillfully and with minimal effort, working ergonomically and stopping before I get tired.
Stacking and Proper Storage
For me, making firewood is a real path, one that is probably reserved mainly for men, but not exclusively. Anyone who wants to take this path should be attentive, technically and coordinatively skilled, and able to act intuitively. Mere strength isn’t the deciding factor. Occasionally, young, strong men offered me their help. Splitting large logs by hand is the greatest art. Without asking how it’s done, they would hammer the wood with the heavy splitting maul, without anything happening—except that they quickly became exhausted. Only a few considered that they might be doing something wrong and asked for help. When I noticed that the others were getting tired or frustrated, I would ask if I could give them a tip. Often they agreed, and a few later discovered a love for it, began to understand the fascination, and embarked on their own journey. Most of them, however, gave up after 1-2 hours, frustrated and exhausted, and never came back.
Working method: Take breaks in good time before the muscles cramp up, and in the evenings, after work is done, sit by the fire for a long time, eat/drink, rest, gazing into the fire or gazing at nature, simply enjoying the moods of nature and feeling grateful and proud of one’s day’s work.
The reward: Anyone who cuts wood by hand knows they never receive the equivalent value of their labor. 1 cubic meter – a day’s work – €100 🙂 It takes a lot of passion and joy; then cutting wood becomes a journey.
For me, it became my way of living with greed, fueled by the fear of missing a good opportunity, the need to be prepared just to avoid freezing. The reasons are manifold, and often, good reasons, practice, and joy turn into something greedy and unhealthy. Unconsciously, I had slipped into this as a Zen monk.