He saw her standing in the middle of a sea of stranded starfish, and as he approached she bent down and gently lifted one up.
“What are you doing ?”
“I’m saving the starfish! I could use a little help,” she said with a smile.
“But, there’s too many! There’s nothing we can do…….it’s a waste of time. “
She threw the starfish into the ocean and shouted, “SAVED ONE.” She carefully lifted another and threw it as far into the ocean as she could – “And, another one,” she laughed…
So, he picked up a starfish and threw it out to the ocean and heard its gentle splash landing. He smiled, too.
I looked at the small beech log, and with a twinge of regret I placed it on the fire, and watched the flames leap briefly before settling back into a gentle consuming glow. The log burnt, turning to ash, and the heat generated by its transformation warmed the cottage.
As I watched the flames flickering in the stove I thought about what may have been, and what may yet be; and soon I was staring down the badger hole, my thoughts spiralling around all the possibilities. I considered all the events, known and unknown that brought me, and the log to this moment – what was and was not, what is and is not, what will and will not be – the choices, decisions made, the internal and external events that have directed the flow.
As the flames leapt playfully behind the glass of the stove, I recalled the Atlantic wind that had howled outside my room as the rain pummelled on my window. It seemed to manifest the inner storm as I tried to marshal my thoughts and commit them to paper. I was grappling with Volition Theory, trying to make sense of it, and as the hours of darkness passed, and the storm raged, I tried to tease out and unravel my thoughts into a clear and coherent thread…….
…..now, all these years later I am still, when the mood takes me, grappling with it…….
The flames consumed the beautiful log, I reached for another, the spiral widened and seemed to accelerate, and the hole was getting deeper and darker…….so, volition, of a sort; I went to the log-shed, picked up a log and went to the workshop, took down an axe, drawknife, and spokeshave, and set to work. Chips flew, shavings tumbled, and thoughts settled. Everything that was and was not, that is and is not, converged in this moment, became the razor-edge of the blade that cut, created and released, became the cause of what was, and was yet to be.
The lump of firewood became something else, A Small Thing, a vase, of sorts, for flowers.
A Small Thing – Spalted Beech Vase
A Small Thing – Spalted Beech Vase
A Small Thing – Spalted Beech Vase
As I looked at it a few playful thoughts arose: Was the vase there all the time? Is the vase firewood? Was it volition that created it, and if so, how, why did it come about? Or, was it regret? And on, and on, and on, down a different badger hole, but this time with a lightness of being that illuminated the way………I imagined the good humoured debates of long ago…….
I never really came to any useful conclusions regarding Volition, still haven’t and probably never will. But maybe, some day soon, it will be instrumental in getting me to finish making the pole-lathe that sits at the back of the shed. It would be very handy for turning firewood into other small things. Maybe.
For now, as this Small Thing has reminded me, there are possibilities – some will come to be and others will not.
If this Small Thing makes just one person smile it will all have been worthwhile.