Since I don't have a shower, the sauna is where I wash up. All the water has to be manually carried to the sauna. For hot water there is a small container attached to the sauna stove, and for cold water there is a 60 litres drum. To get pleasantly warm water one needs to mix hot and cold water. For me this is common-place, an ordinary routine which I learned already as a kid. (Yes, there was a shower in my parents' house, but for some reason it was only used on special occasions, and we regularly washed up in the sauna, twice a week. As soon as I was old enough to carry a bucket of water I participated in the process of filling up containers at the sauna.)

Somehow, today this sparked a memory from my early teenage years. I remember reading an old Japanese zen-poem, which said something like 'How miraculous - I carry water, I chop firewood'. I can't remember any more who wrote that poem, or which book I read it from, but I think in that book the poem was interpreted as saying that ultimately, the 'meaning of life' or 'spiritual truth' is in mundane daily little things. Life is all there is, and it depends on how we find it. Once we find carrying water and chopping firewood as miraculous things, there are no more hidden secrets to look for; the ordinary life appears as rich, deep, and meaningful.

Oh well. Since I can't remember who wrote that poem, and when - and since I don't know that much about the history of Japanese society, I'm only guessing that how were the practical details of Japanese class society. I mean, zen monks typically came from the educated class, and I don't know if they grew up carrying water and chopping firewood. Maybe, for some of them, after all the intellectual practices simple physical work appeared as refreshing re-connection with the basic fundamentals of life.

Hehe, anyhow, no matter how that old zen poem should or could be interpreted, personally for me carrying water and chopping firewood are still deeply meaningful tasks. I grew up doing these things, so they are not exotic nor new to me. Yet, they serve as a meditation and art; the moment of remembering of what it is to be physically connected with the mysterious and beautiful Life in itself.

PS. Sorry for the hiatus with blog posts; I'd love to finish the interactive story I've been writing, and post that as the next blog entry. The process of writing has - again - taken longer than I hoped, but still, there has been slow and steady progress. So I'm still hopeful that the next blog entry will contain a link to the interactive story.