Count that last day

It’s not that I meet him very often. But nevertheless, during my wanderings I sometimes encounters him, the woodcutter. And where can you find such a fine man nowadays? A real lumberjack with a checkered plaid shirt, with an unshaven face, faded jeans and broken shoes? But at the same time also a woodcutter with a love for his axes, for his mighty saws, for his powerful craft.

Every so often I have a chat with him. The logger always looks a bit disturbed. As if he has no time at all to talk about the weather, about football, about grain prices. Let alone that he wants to give his opinion on natural disasters or environmental pollution.

In the end, lumberjacks only would love to achieve one thing. That there will be good visibility again. That everything that stands in the way of observing the horizon is removed. Chopped down, sawed off. The fact that his fellow human beings can also do beautiful things with wood – making furniture, building bridges, refurbishing houses – is a bonus. But that's not what the woodcutter has in mind. His calling is clear to him. There must be a view.

There have been times when I was rather jealous of the logger’s vocation. And especially on the clarity of it. The lumberman  doesn't care about appraisal interviews, feedback sessions, long-term ambition plans or personality profiles. The woodcutter is just what he is. A quiet, muscular man who occasionally spits into his strong willed hands and then enthusiastically chops down the trees that come in his way. Like he’s some kind of animal.

Wouldn't humanity be much happier if we all had the same insight as the logger, I wonder now an then. There would be less worrying, less mulling, brooding. How many people would possess more peace of mind, tranquility and certainty? If only they could have such a lofty and  fair goal in their life, like the lumberman. If they only could spend their days just as doggedly, modestly, calmly and above all blissfully as the blessed woodcutter.

Until one day, I find the woodcutter sad and dejected sitting on a tree trunk. I ask in horror whether something serious is wrong with him, the logger. At first, he simply refuses to react.

"It's done," the man mutters at last. He seems restless, defeated. His eyes stare blankly at the witless soil. "One tree is still standing. When I cut it down, it's done. By then, I have axed all the trees that needed to be cut down. The work is finished.”

Honestly, I have seen many sad people in my life, but the lumberjack is certainly one of the most bleak cases. The lumberman used to be so full of zest for life, full of joy, now he is nothing more than a pitiful creature. Like he cut himself down.

"What can I do? What remains? What meaning does life have for me now that the view of the horizon is clear? Now I know which path leads to border, now there’s plenty of perspective.” The woodcutter picks up a clod from the ground and furiously hurls it at an overly curious Jay. The bird manages to avoid the projectile with ease. The logger looks at me desperately.

In the meantime, I try to help the hopeless man. What could a healthy lumberjack do? Retrain? And to what? To a rugby player? To a bouncer at popular nightclubs? To a fitness coach?

“It has always been my life. The smell of fresh wood, the sound of the ax against the tree bark, the soggy ground, the chirping of the birds, the sunshine, the rain. Should I just give it all up? As if it never existed?" The man gets up to go fell the last tree.

“But what if instead of cutting down trees, you start growing trees?” I suggest. “Well, you won't need sharp axes, heavy saws. But you keep working in nature. The birds will still recognize you. You will be burned again by the sun, again drenched by the rain.”

The woodcutter is speechless for a moment. He seems to want to laugh uncontrollably at my suggestion. Then he changes his mind. He sits down again and murmurs to himself, “What must it be like instead of cutting trees, to grow them? Instead of creating better views, providing shadow, calmness and breathing space?”