Splitting Silence
SPLITTING SILENCE
It ‘s one of those PRAJNA nights!
Silence – near zero.
Boundless – blue-black.
Stars shoot silver.
Crack – Silence – Whomp!
Intimate with the sound of one tree falling, I snap awake. The phosphorescent Milky Way showers the Truchas Peaks rising above the remote PRAJNA MOUNTAIN FOREST REFUGE, the upcountry inholding of the UPAYA INSTITUTE & ZEN CENTER in Santa Fe, New Mexico.
Snowing still.
Cross-hatched felled trees.
Stacks of Aspen rounds,
Wait and weather.
At 9,400 feet in Northern New Mexico’s Sangre de Cristo Mountains, a web of grounded inter-lying trunks – some down early, many long dead – await the buzz of a skilled chainsaw and the whack of a practiced axe. The REFUGE ROSHI asks:
What is your practice?
Splitting Silence!
Tell me more?
Whack – Silence – Whack!
Whoah! Thus far and no further. Co-Abbot of UPAYA and the PRAJNA REFUGE Finder/Founder ROSHI JOAN HALIFAX and I could not get further down the snowbound forest service road to the yet-undiscovered fifty-acre parcel outside Truchas, NM. We had been sleuthing and slip-sliding in all seasons in search of a remote retreat appropriate for sustainable wilderness practice. That blizzy March afternoon, it was too deep, too far, too soon dark.
Dusky – snowing.
Low viz – no viz.
See without seeing.
Know without knowing.
The ROSHI knew: The spring thaw revealed the sacred site of the PRAJNA MOUNTAIN FOREST REFUGE. Today’s denizens include: forest monks; back country hikers and skiers; field naturalists; galaxy-gazers; and a variety of wilderness retreatants compatible with earthy, all-weather causes and sound-effects.
Crack – thunder – lightening!
Near – far?
Tie down the tarp.
Tuck in – look – listen.
Whomp – another one down!
Barometer down: Thunderstorms turn the meadow to early-winter white. Come October, it’s time to put the garden to bed, stock the root cellar, and excavate the snowshoes. The handsome log lodge and Abbot’s cabin are well-winterized now. Woodsmoke arises with aromas from upcoming hearty meals prepped by Peggy Reishin Murray, the Abbot’s Assistant. Spicy apple pies and herb-breads are confected by Refuge Caretaker MARTY PEALE, cozied up to by swirly-coated, caramel-colored sheepdog Shannon.
Sun sinks over the ridge, beyond aspen and fir, into the crepuscule. The dogs nuzzle crazy furrows in the white meadow, wiggling every-which-way. Sniffing for what? Kitchen smells bring me in at dusk after SPLITTING SILENCE all day.
Rounds quartered – more or less.
Stacks between Aspens,
Tapped tight and true,
Withstand whipping wind.
According to ROSHI JOAN, in Zen, we say: chop wood, carry water. This is in appreciation of the miracle of our everyday lives. And this woodchopping is not only about everyday lives, but about beauty and precision. Our woodchopper moves like a finely-tuned animal as she splits wood in total concentration. This is the essence of Zen.
Meditating into a blazing wood fire is the Zen-essence of deep-winter at the PRAJNA REFUGE. Split wood, stacked neatly on stone hearths and beside cast-iron cook stoves, awaits its destiny. I chuck another log on the fire.
Sparks scatter.
Flames flare.
Faces flash.
Aspen ashes.
-
Prajna Refuge Caretaker MARTY PEALE responds:
Lisl, your artistry astounds me. The way you put together words and images. The way you make the ordinary extraordinary. Your vision and passion are a gift for yourself, and now for us. We are richer for it.
Looking forward to seeing you at Story Shards in Red Mountain, if not Santa Fe.
Warmest regards,
Ellen
Ah yes, chop wood and carry water. It’s so simple. Thanks for reminding me how beautiful and rich the simple things in life are, like breathing, catching a snowflake on my tongue, walking through fluffy snow hearing the silence of the trees. I’ve been anxious of late. This is so calming, restorative, intimate.
Again, 1000 thanks for this artful meditation.
snow blessings,
Susanna Jade
oh, wood chopper, you are a friggin’ zen master…
at creating music with an axe…
at splitting silence…
what power behind a simple swing, like karate…
and what an eye, wait aim.
if you ski like you chop wood, how can I keep up.
Roger
I was mesmerized…what is it that makes splitting wood so riveting? I could feel the axe in my hands and felt like cheering when the logs fell open…also, my back started to ache…