Mundane-verse
Welcome to the mundane-verse.
It is an intricate and delicate system — a time-bending affirmation of existence — a fourth dimension of rapture — a profound ancestral imprint — it is everywhere and everything — all the time — all at once. Can you feel it yet?
I was recently tasked with removing a fallen tree from that fell near a cabin in the woods.
Such a rare opportunity — a chance to do the work of my forbearers.
The Steinbrener voiced by Larry David in Seinfeld described the unique joy of eating soup in a bread bowl, how you eat the soup, then the bowl, and nothing else remains. So it goes with clearing a fallen tree and splitting it into firewood. Eat an apple core and find out — it is satisfying to use all you cleared away.
Nearly impossible in modern consumption. Everything comes in something you recycle or discard. And everything, before it was packaged, has mysterious origins that our market economy has determined good and worthy.
The task of tree removal went in two phases.
First, take a chainsaw to rip the long tree into segments small enough to haul away for chopping. The tree was on a hill so gravity was an enemy. With the help of a friend, we positioned the tree on a heavy-duty boot scraper and ripped until the weight of the tree could be supported by hand.
Now, ripping a chainsaw through a tree is satisfying, yes. You have in your hands a powerful tool — one that gives a single man or woman the chance to put rotating steel through full-grown conifer. What took 150 years to form, you cut through in 15 seconds. Yes, very satisfying, but it was not what gave me a glimpse into the mundane-verse that day.
I entered the mundane-verse when chopping wood.
That is the task that tipped the balance between technology and skill back into the hands of this human, the one pushing keystrokes on the screen for your reading pleasure.
There are two main factors in chopping wood: the weight of the ax head and the position of the log. It is a deeply personal physics because you not only account for those two factors but how your person relates to them. With what force can you swing the ax head? At what distance does the arching steel fall when you apply that force?
An experienced forester joined the party at this time. So I asked him for some advice.
“You just split it,” he said.
“Show me.”
I watched him pick up the ax and judge its weight. And then, in his first broad swing, he split the log, more round than his waist, in two even pieces.
I don’t doubt there are wordy instruction manuals on wood-splitting. You can likely ruin the discovery of this chore in lengthy explanations. But that day, I got to experience the joy of navigating how to hold and swing a handle with a blade on the end of it, and breaking a three-story tree into pieces the size of my forearm.
The mundane-verse opened its portal into the retrospective channels fused into each pump of blue blood. Lose focus for one instance, and you misjudge what length the arc your leg-position creates, and your blade sinks ineffectively into the outer ring of the tree. Too many misfires and you’ll lose the strength required to chop the cord. You re-calibrate and set your uninterrupted focus back on the center.
Sobriety is the center of my life. If I keep it as my primary focus, then I can accomplish outstanding things — burying sharpened steel in true centers being one of many examples.
What makes the difficult task of staying sober — of never succumbing to the great impulse to escape through drink or drug — worth it is what I call the miracle of the mundane.
Simply put, if you clear away all that isn’t, you are left with only what is. And that paired down experience of life is a miracle. Yes, less is more. I am the infant who plays with the box the toy came in rather than the toy itself, the father who observes his two year old rather than his phone at the playground. I laugh at stupid jokes and cry at sappy movies. I pack my families’ lunches in the morning while I make breakfast. And my joy on a day-to-day basis is measured not by what I am doing, but my ability to lose myself in what I do.
I have learned that it is not necessarily the things I do that matter most, but my approach to those things. In my approach, if I can clear away all the forces pulling my attention and desire and ambition elsewhere, I enter the mundane-verse — an Eden of purpose and meaning where everything is done because it had to be; where I do everything because, if I didn’t do it, it would not get done, and the mundane-verse would lose its perpetual advance, thereby ceasing to exist.
People are tripping over themselves to understand the multiverse, that theory of multiple universes overlapping to form our reality.
Others are expanding their stake in the metaverse, the alternative reality that technology creates.
The mundane-verse is the most powerful of the three in that it includes both.
The overlapping and interweaving of universes of the multiverse are, I argue, the handle to the steel blade I hold in my hand before splitting wood. The same universes which, assembled and aggregated, allowed me to bring my hands into position is the same that allows you to catch the baseball your son threw or to estimate the water needed to turn those seeds in the garden into food. Basic acts of focused attention require us to tap into the countless and wildly diverse experiences and histories — and all the astrophysics that brought them about.
As for the virtual world, what is its purpose except for rendering us entranced and absorbed by our senses? We, of course, love that feeling. When I first played a virtual reality game I bellied over on the floor laughing in an ecstasy of sensory explosion. But make no mistake, the metaverse capitalizes on the base experience of the mundane-verse. I can belly over laughing with the same force when my 2-year-old summons the courage to attack the monster I am pretending to be. Think of the mundane-verse as the metaverse, only certified organic.
It is better to understand than to be understood, as the saint once said. And I wish you all the understanding that this mysterious life can bring. And drop a line some time to let me know how your understanding is coming along because it is also true that sometimes the best way to understand is to seek to be understood.
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Hi Mark.
In my healing time the racing mind has slowed as if I simply run out of bandwith . Governed by my Spirit it stumbles along while resting for periods of contemplation. Rarely do I think they think I think anymore? Or when will they like me so I can like myself? Can I get drunk on a bottle of past betrayal, resentment? How about tomorrow’s self seeking images? No, alcohol gets me drunk. In spite of my ever co-dependent self I do need to remember that.
The self-centeredness rising from the ground I’ve covered, always the fear behind another’s thoughts.. I must be good to myself first to be good to others. Otherwise I will not survive the day, the people forest. In the beauty of a full moon the shadows below dance to my horror.
As if invisible yet only see myself in others reflection. This will fix me? How do you like me so far? Eh… No, this is bad management. I cannot manage others in my reflection. No wonder I wake up to a new day willing to quit before I get fired..
Time for a new attitude and outlook but how? Today? I will simply do my job. Upon Awakening? I’ll pray to the Higher Spiritual Power for emotional security, courage and strength to be the best I can be in all my affairs.
My best friend is Mace, a 120lb German Shepherd. I know this because I am constantly catering to his needs without any expectation. That’s what friends do. For such a presumed European war criminal he’s a goof. Another friend is my cat Gpurrs. Or El-Gato as he’s know around town. Once feared by all he now has no teeth left and gets his thyroid meds twice a day. Lots of gravy. Enjoys his catnip, passes out with his face in the bag. Just like his Dad.. Lots of love no matter how many internal organs he’s left on the back porch in his past. Then my friend Halo. A beautiful majestic 17 hand Thoroughbred (tall boy) who would be anybody’s friend for apples and carrots? But I know he loves me when I brush him down and cater to his needs. I spend time with him everyday. All of them really. They’re all my friends.
Dana is my loving partner for over 20 years now. 22? Yikes! I should know this.
I got her coffee in bed as usual. Made her a lunch. Give her space in the bathroom. Throw out a few positive affirmations? She looks thinner since back to Zumba…. and her skin looks healthy. You absolutely cannot see any grey and I will swear to it! We kiss and share that we love each other and she’s out the door to cater to Halo with his new fly mask. Then work. She’s a licensed mental health and a few other things therapist. Holistic therapy, Equine therapist, addiction. Life.
I’m off to ride my Hog NO fix the rotten pickanic table. Then go out in the boat NO clean the pool. Take Mace to the beach for the afternoon NO do the dishes, vacuum and a load of laundry. See..the table has been half fixed since yesterday, The rain last night left lots of leaves in the pool. The dishes take a few minutes then the kitchen’s clean, vacuum the dog hair crisis, the dirty clothes are piling up in the hamper.. My choice. Do I live in unresolve? Or do I live as a free man.
Later today I’ll have a swim in the clean pool and be grateful for it. Sit at the table in the yard I built and repaired with both working hands. Go for a bike ride or walk with Mace along the beach. Be grateful I am a participant in my life today. Free. The fellowship of the Spirit I crave begins with me. My willingness. I bring myself to it, no longer stealing myself from it.
So little to do and so much time. Strike that! Reverse it.
My wife’s dream is to own a farm and provide equine therapy. Instead, and for now, she brings therapy to the inner city of DC. We’re lucky to have caring partners.
Have you heard the “slow me down Lord” prayer? Google it if you haven’t. I used to carry that around with me and read it often because the thoughts were so hamster wheel that I felt I was never going to go anywhere.
Good to hear from you, Sherp. Free men we are. Live on!
Mark:
I’ve been lurking behind your posts and this one hit home for me. My children are all grown and I’ve finally chosen sobriety (6 months thus far) after knowing deep in the back of my mind that there was an issue but never having the courage to address it. Thankfully I was somewhat “functional” so I don’t feel I missed much of my kids growth but I should have experienced more. Your post hit home with me in particular some of the metaverse comments. Having been sober for several months I’ve started a hobby of people-observing and I purposely don’t stare at my device while traveling in groups (bus/train, etc) and I worry about how hypnotic they’ve become. Couple that with addiction and it’s scary. I now have a granddaughter and I’m spending more time being the “handle” with her vs. the “blade”. I love just simply observing and experiencing and try to counsel my daughter (mom) on the anxiety of being a first time parent. I think sobriety has given me that perspective. Don’t worry if she runs around wild in the house. Experience it. Don’t worry if people stare at you in the store because she’s talking too loud. Experience it. Misbehaving is not the same as characteristically being a 3 year old kid. Be the handle not the blade.
I like that. Be the handle not the blade. Thanks, B.
I also wish you the best of luck in the journey. I find being sober at parties (and other places like sporting events and bars) is a really fascinating time to observe people. The longer I stay sober, the more I can’t find any appeal in getting wasted.