This weekend, I undertook the responsibility of felling trees that have stood tall in our forest for over forty years. Their towering presence, once considered an inconvenience by the previous owner, bore the marks of typhoons and slowly encroached upon the forest trails. Where others saw a hindrance, we see nature's gift, offering sustenance.
These trees are not merely timber; they are medicine, food, and protection from the elements. They represent the very soil from which we will nurture new life. Our mission is not to dominate this forest but to steward it, tending to it with the respect and care it deserves.
Working With Nature, Not Against It
For months now, I've been joined by an eclectic group of individuals—lumberjacks and architects alike—as we gather these ancient trees for our latest project: the construction of a garage and workshop. True to form, we aren't following the fast-paced methods of today's construction world. We are taking our time, knowing that quality and sustainability don't happen overnight.
The modern world pushes us to seek immediacy. The internet has conditioned us to expect everything instantly—goods, services, even meaning—delivered with the click of a button. But this pursuit of speed can leave us feeling hollow, disconnected from the natural rhythms that once sustained us.
Reflection on Felling the Trees
That evening, after a full day of work, my wife shared a quiet observation. She had taken photos and videos throughout the day, and each time a tree crashed to the ground, she felt a pang of sadness. "It felt like we were taking a life," she said softly. The trees speak to each other, she reminded me. She touched their trunks and the earth, whispering apologies and gratitude. For both of us, felling these trees felt intimate, personal, and real—so different from buying pre-cut lumber at a store.
When was the last time we truly connected with the materials we buy? When did we pause to reflect on where our conveniences come from? Each plank of wood, each beam we'll use in this building, carries a story—of wind, rain , sun, and growth. This is no mere transaction but a shared history between the land and us.
The Patience of Nature
Every time I work on this land, I am reminded of a truth that we've largely forgotten: the pace of human endeavor pales in comparison to nature's patient unfolding. These trees have been silent witnesses to decades of weather, standing strong against forces far beyond our control. Now, it is their time to take on a new form.
I do not take this transformation lightly. I honor these trees—for their endurance, their stillness—and I ask for their strength to support what we are building. This connection between nature and our efforts will remain at the heart of our work, a reminder of the balance we must strive to maintain.
