Many years ago, when I went to a psychotherapist, Miss Linda and I often discussed my financial situation. We chatted about how hard getting employed was for blind people. Back then, there was approximately 70% unemployment in the blind community. I wanted to be a psychotherapist. Yet, in 1995, convincing employers that you didn’t need sight to provide quality service was nearly impossible. I practiced privately from home until the clients stopped knocking on my door. “Now what?”

“You may have to chop wood,” Miss Linda said.

“What do you mean?”

“You may have to find any job in order to make ends meet. This might mean teaching piano, or being a telephone service operator, or a rehabilitation counselor for the blind.”

“But I want to be a psychotherapist!”

“Well, while you’re waiting for that boat to come to shore, you may have to chop wood.”

I never liked Miss Linda’s response, even though, looking back on her comment, she was probably right. However, following my heart, I chose the path less traveled by – author, speaker, educator. At times, I wish I had possessed a better set of wood-chopping tools because chopping a financial mountain of wood with a hand saw is difficult.

My dad used to recite a famous tongue twister:

“How much wood would a woodchuck chuck

If a woodchuck could chuck wood?

As much wood as a woodchuck could chuck,

If a woodchuck could chuck wood.”

The “answer” many people recite is:

“A woodchuck would chuck as much wood as a woodchuck could chuck

If a woodchuck could chuck wood.”

This tongue twister became famous from a 1902 song called The Woodchuck Song, written by Robert Hobart Davis for the musical The Runaways.

Over the years, I’ve discovered that life asks a similar question: How much wood are we willing to chuck when life places a pile in front of us?

Through my work as a psychotherapist, piano teacher, and musician, I’ve come to realize that folks – like me – have various reactions to chopping wood. When given the suggestion to go outdoors and chop wood, some folks remain on the couch to continue watching TV and eating snacks, depressed yet content. Some walk outside and say they can’t find the tools without even looking for them. Some people pick up the ax, give one swing, and give up. Others chop, chop, chop, yet when they tire, they leave the job half completed.

We have all done some of these things at some point in our lives. However, successful wood choppers obtain the right tools, learn from someone how to do the job, have the commitment to see the job through its completion, and receive gratification for a job well done.

No matter what your real “job” is in life, we all need to chop wood sometimes. We can chop with anger, hate, blame, fear, guilt, or we can chop with joy, love, peace, and kindness. Avoiding chopping wood only leads to a damp, spoiled woodpile. It’s always better to get the job done, sing a happy song, and then recline in the sun with a glass of lemonade. So, if you are facing piles of wood, I challenge you to get up, take responsibility, go chop your wood, make a big woodpile, and then relax. For in chopping wood, you never know what rewards you might receive—a stronger body, a new employer, a deep feeling of satisfaction, or a large paycheck. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. When you chop wood and create your own firewood, you’ll change the way you live.