Natural Lessons

by Stuart Goldman

I was asked to write an article about my job and how it might relate to right livelihood. Like so many things, it became something other than what I intended and morphed into an article on right effort instead.

Up until mid-March I worked as a restoration ecology technician for The Nature Conservancy in Illinois. For the most part this job involved the clearing of native and non-native woody brush and trees from ecosystems that did not historically have these types of vegetation present. Formerly these areas were prairies and other types of ecosystems that had only sparsely spaced trees and understory shrubs. This work required using chainsaws. It is two incidents involving chainsaws that brought home to me how ordinary situations can offer lessons for practice both in and out of the zendo.

Prior experience with chainsaws had encouraged me to use and maintain them in certain ways. This resulted in my not paying attention to the fact that while experience is a great teacher, it can blind a person into thinking that a little bit of experience means that this one way is the only way to do something.

As an example, several times over the summer, I had not securely tightened down the plastic caps to the gas and oil reservoirs on the chainsaws. While the saws were being used the caps would loosen and eventually come off, thus spilling gas and oil onto the very areas I was working to restore. Not only was this not helpful to the soil and plants, it was also wasting a lot of fuel. As a direct response to this I began tightening down the caps as hard as I could with a screwdriver. In attempting to solve one problem though, I created another. These plastic caps have a small slot on top for the screwdriver to engage. Repeatedly over-tightening and loosening the caps resulted in the screwdriver scraping away the sides of the slots, making them wider over time. Eventually, one slot became so wide the tool no longer fit, making it impossible to remove the cap and refill the saw. This meant losing work time, taking the saw into a dealer for repair, and paying for a new cap. I learned a simple and valuable lesson with this incident. Take the middle way, even when using a chainsaw. Too much can be as counterproductive as too little. Not too loose—but not too tight.

The second incident had potential for disastrous consequences. I was working alone in the field with a chainsaw, which violated unwritten safety rules. Unfortunately, admonitions like that often go in one ear and out the other. But I had not planned to cut down any trees. I was simply going to cut up a mature cottonwood that had already been cut down. It was a tripping hazard blocking a path that I was frequently using. This was a good-sized tree, almost two feet in diameter where I would be doing the majority of the cutting. Cutting up downed trees is not as easy as it sounds. The saw can get bound up in the trunk halfway through, slipping while cutting could result in amputating a foot, or the trunk could roll onto you after it is cut.
I took my jacket off before I began cutting, and put it where I knew I would be able to find it, on the end of the tree that I was cutting up, closest to the stump. I started cutting using a technique that usually guarantees that the saw will not get bound. I made all of my cuts, and the saw did not get stuck—but a large part of the trunk rolled. Not onto me but onto my jacket. I was utterly incredulous. How did I do something so unthinking? I vigorously tugged on my jacket but it would not budge. In addition to wanting my jacket back, I had the added concern that my boss and my boss’ boss would be arriving at the site soon. Not only would it be apparent that I was running the chainsaw with no one else on site, it would also be extremely embarrassing given the problem I had created.

I realized I would have to power up the saw again which I did not want to do, since it had already used considerable gas and wear on the chain to cut up this tree. But I did not see that I had a choice. So I started cutting again taking care not to bind up the saw. Not careful enough, though. The cut I was making closed up on the bar of the saw. Of course, this was the one day that I only had one saw with me. I was frantic. I now had two things trapped by this acquisitive tree and I was desperate to get them out.

The only thing I could do to partially open the cut on the tree wide enough to free the saw was to push or pull this log that weighed many more times than me. I was working with all my effort to move the trunk getting more and more frantic and exhausted. It hit me during this struggle that this is how I should be approaching my practice. I was completely focused on the task at hand, doing anything I could to free what seemed hopelessly stuck.

I pushed on the log from both sides in the slippery, muddy ground. It would not move, even with a nearby stump as a block for leverage. Utterly exhausted, I sank to the ground next to my jacket. Without thinking about it or expecting anything, I tugged gently on it, and it slipped easily from beneath the tree. The jacket was never stuck at all. For whatever reason, violently pulling on it did not work. All it needed was a different approach.

The saw, however, really was stuck. A different approach would also be needed to free it. I moved to the other side of the trunk and began pushing from that side. At last there was some movement, but not enough to pull the saw out. Then it occurred to me that from that side I should be pulling the log towards me to open up the cut, not pushing it away. I pulled and pulled and could not believe that the log was actually moving. With one hand still pulling, I reached over and pulled the saw towards me. It moved, but still not enough. Then the revelation...I should be pushing the saw away from me. And out the saw came.

Later, I thought about what had happened. I thought of the many assumptions I had made. The distractions I had let get in the way of my work. The work in the field, the work on the mat. Only after becoming exhausted and frustrated with what I thought was the only way of working was I able to open to working in a different way.

I wonder how long it will be until it is time to learn something from a chainsaw again. I can hardly wait.