I don't know why I keep cutting wood the way I do. Everytime I do my back gets sore all over again. Damn. I'm not referring to a style of woodcutting it's the fact of woodcutting at all. While at Fran's this morning, cutting wood, OSB, for the stairs I built, I took a moment to breathe. You know, Really Breathe. It could only have been 30 degrees or so, the sun was shining, the forest was still, and the world was perfect, just like it always is. I am boggled at how easy it is to get all wound up in the crazy games of the world and some Breathing nearly always brings things back into perspective. I like to forget that this is my life. right now. not the whatever i'm planning for tomorrow, this summer, or ten years from now. This air and these sounds. This lumber in my gloved hand. The whistling leaves and crunchy snow. The way poetry rides through the trees and weaves around rocks. Awesome.