Sunday, July 19, 2009

chop wood, carry water . . .

mow the lawn.

With this.

In a fit of some sadistic whim, I asked for this mower. A simple push mower. It begs your full attention on the task at hand which would be . . . well, mowing the lawn, by golly. One has to get Zen (or a beer and forget the whole matter) in order to do work like this. On the one hand, I'm perfectly suited for work that's easyily laid out, no confusion, no complications. It's the paperwork and tallying numbers that generally have me glazing over like a donut. Those tasks frustrate and annoy me. Ask me to mow lawn, do dishes, vacuum carpet or even chop wood and I'm perfectly in my element. On the other hand, it's hard work.

I get a good workout at least. Saves money at the local exercise centers. And it reminds me that humans are meant to use their bodies. I remember watching Frontier House on PBS years ago. I thought it was the neatest show since Carol Burnett. At one point, one of the participants was concerned about his rapid and very apparent weight loss. The doctor on site for the shoot, checked him out and declared him healthy as a horse. His weight loss was due to Real Work ~ cutting cords of wood to survive the winter, raising or hunting animals to eat, plowing the earth for food, cutting hay with a scythe (no wonder Death looks so svelt). Using his body. Not pampering it and then heading for the squash court three times a week at minimum or working the weight training circuit . . . just physical work.

I like technology. We go way back ~ not quite to the wheel, but I appreciate appliances that make life easier and free up time: dishwasher, the washer, the dryer (I keep forgetting to use the sun), vacuum cleaner. But some tasks are done just as well with a little elbow grease and attention. That attention does away with multi-tasking; something humans suffer too much of. The push mower acted as a source of meditation for me. I learned that the first pass requires more dumping of clippings than the second, cross-wise pass. I learned that my arm muscles, where one's "bat wings" might develop, were doing work. I learned that push mowing isn't about getting the perfect cut lawn ~ it keeps the grass from getting over grown. That's a good enough goal.

It's Miller time. Becks, actually, but let's not get technical.

On to other Work:

Some summer sun art I'm inflicting on the local populace at my corner garden . . .

And the really good, dry-stack, no-cement rock wall all made from rocks cultivated on our land.

We do know how to grow rocks.

Anyone know what kind of rock this is? I literally dug it out of the wall before it got buried in the center. I think there's mica. Maybe the matrix is a quartz?

I like rocks.

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