The Breaks That Make Us
The Space Between the Strikes
One day, there were two woodcutters. An older, experienced one and a younger, stronger one. They both worked for the same logging company.
One morning, the company announced a friendly competition. Who could chop more wood by the end of the day?
The younger woodcutter, full of adrenaline and fire, was sure he’d win. “This will be easy,” he said.
As soon as the sun rose, the two were off. The younger man barely took a breath, chopping relentlessly. By midday, he looked over at the older man’s pile, much smaller than his own. To make matters worse, the old man was taking regular breaks, sitting calmly under a tree.
“I’ve got this in the bag,” the young man thought.
But when the day ended, the older woodcutter had chopped significantly more wood.
Stunned, the young man asked, “How did you do that? You took so many breaks!”
The old man smiled gently and said, “Son, every time I sat down, I was sharpening my axe.”
The story’s not really about wood. It’s about life.
In a world of constant doing, grinding, swiping, and striving, we forget the wisdom of stepping back. We think more effort is always the answer. But sometimes, what we need is space to pause, reflect, and sharpen the tools within.
Sharpening the axe might look like learning a new skill. Or walking away from a screen to take a walk in silence. Or doing something wildly different because your soul is whispering, try it.
In a time of exploding AI and endless tech, just like when the internet first changed the world, it’s not about what’s available. It’s about how we use it. It’s not about resources, but about resourcefulness. The edge comes not from more tools, but from a clearer inner compass.
Since becoming a parent, I’ve started noticing how children move through the world.
Everything is an adventure.
They’re not multitasking.
They’re not optimizing their calendars.
They are present, with full attention and soft hearts.
Their lack of knowledge is their gift.
Their naivety, their superpower.
Their presence? That’s their way of sharpening the axe.
We think wisdom is something that accumulates. But often, it’s something we return to.
And when life falls apart, when we’re in the mud, when everything feels off, the quiet art of sharpening becomes even more vital.
What has helped me live a beautiful life, even when it’s been anything but beautiful, is being aware of the inevitable.
Sometimes it’s just me taking a step back and remembering, we are all spinning on a giant rock in the middle of nowhere.
We all share the same destiny.
Death.
Yes, my mind goes there.
This isn’t theory.
This is a truth that runs through my veins.
And because I carry it, I live differently.
Today, I could die.
So why not just try to be a little bit better?
Why not love a little more?
Why not try to do what I want while I do what I must?
Be bold. Try new things. Your time is not up.
You’ve still got plenty of wood to chop.
This is just the beginning.
Some days I write, and it doesn’t quite land.
I keep going anyway.
Sometimes I screw up at work.
I continue working.
Sometimes I argue with a loved one, and the outcome is messy. However, with every tough situation, the resistance loosens and becomes tighter, just like our bond.
Jordan was trusted 26 times to take the game-winning shot, and he missed.
Keep missing.
You have more wood to chop.
Your time is just beginning.
Not perfect. Not polished.
Sharpen your axe.
Just so you can become more you.
And that is enough.
With love,
Anand