We need the fire.
We need the fire
Me, next to a big slice of a big tree, wearing all my outdoor gear and so exhausted.
Last year I went to Yosemite National Park and finally saw the big trees--the Redwoods and the Giant Sequoias. It’s something I have dreamed of doing since I was eight years old reading about them in my National Geographic Kids magazine (my first and favorite magazine subscription ever).
I won’t regale you of my entire trip, but I will say that the trees are amazing. They are awe-some in every sense of the word. You know they’re going to be big, incredible beings, but it’s hard to even grasp until you see them, touch them, stand with them. Even now, a week later, I feel like I’m still processing how immense they are and how vast the world is and how small I am.
Me, waving, next to the biggest tree I have ever seen.
I’d been planning/hoping/dreaming of this trip for years, but what finally sparked it (pun sort of intended) was the increasing number of forest fires we have been having each year. I was worried that I would miss my chance to see them and since our world leaders aren’t really doing what’s necessary to help heal our planet, it felt like a now or never kind of situation.
Just a couple weeks after we returned home, news broke that windy fires had destroyed more than two dozen sequoia trees. These trees can grow for more that 3,000 years!! And now two dozen are laying down among the forest floor. But what I learned while in Yosemite reading those little plaques scattered throughout the park, is that they need the fire. Giant Sequioa trees are serotinuous--when there is fire it dries them out and opens up their seeds and releases them. These larger than life beings NEED the fire in order to reproduce. Their lives depend on it. So while it’s devastating that an old majestic being has fallen and is ending its life cycle, it's necessary and it means that a new life cycle is beginning.
A HUGE LOVABLE TREE.
You may have heard the quote that I'm going to poorly paraphrase now about “stars have to burst in order to become stars” or something like that. And it’s true. We need to fire. We need the breakdown, the heartache, the fallout, the what-do-I-do-now, the anger. We need it to help us evolve, to force us to ask ourselves the hard questions and sometimes not have an answer but at least maybe come out with a direction (or a direction we know we don’t want). The fire fuels us, it offers us change, hope for something new.
The fire for me is usually anger. It’s usually someone telling me I can’t do something, or underestimating me. It’s usually me seeing something that could be better than it is and seeing that I could help. It’s usually me proving to someone else (but really myself) that I can do this thing and do it well and HAH! (I’m not entirely sure how healthy that is, but I’ve gotten a lot done that way and that’s something I can unpack later with my therapist.)
My point is, we need the fire. We need something to create a spark inside of us, to set us free and ablaze so we can move toward what we want or need with every fiber of our being. Sometimes fire lights the way to something unexpected and wonderful. Or sometimes we need the fire to tell us “Nope!! Too hot over here, don’t touch!! This isn’t meant for you!! Turn back, turn around, go another direction!” And that is important too. Sometimes the fire is really just a big red flag that we either heed or ignore. And then sometimes we get burned. Hopefully when that happens we remember the burn enough to steer clear next time, to redirect, but forgive enough to move forward.
There’s a million metaphors and life quotes about fire. It’s given life and death to humans. We use it for survival, for leisure (s’mores anyone?), for entertainment (remember when Adele set fire to the rain!!!), some of us spent 20 minutes in the candle aisle at Target sniffing the candles wondering which one will smell best when it is on fire. Whether we like it or not, we need the fire.
Lately, my fire or spark has been just a flicker. I’ve had such a hard time focusing or completing things or starting or really doing anything. Part of that I will attribute to it being winter, and what I consider to be a time of cozy rest and hibernation. Another part of it is that the world seems to be on fire in a million and that itself is overwhelming. I’m not sure what the other part is, I’m trying to figure it out. It’s funny how when the fire is raging it can be overwhelming, but when the flame is just a flicker that can be overwhelming too.
I think maybe when it’s just a flicker then we’re just surviving. Just using what little light, energy or warmth we have to keep going, and all other aspects get quiet while we find our momentum, seek out more oxygen and replenish ourselves. I’m not sure, truly spitballin’ here.
The changing of the seasons is usually a real spark for me. Just yesterday the sun was out, windows were open and I had shorts on and wowowowowow, it was GLORIOUS.
….but the spark faded as quickly as that sweet Ohio weather changed.
I know it will come back. Just like the sun will. So for now while the fire flickers here’s what I’m doing to take care of the flame and myself:
Trying to be as comfy as possible–comfy clothes, comfy space, just real comfy. If I feel like pushing myself out of my comfort zone, then great! I’ll follow that spark, but if not, then I’ll be on my comfy couch in my comfy pants eating comfy foods.
Eating well–comfort foods, nourishing foods
Taking advantage of any sparks–if I have even the *slightest* urge to draw, paint, write, sing, dance, etc. I DO IT! I might be over it in a few minutes or maybe I’ll do it for a few hours, but when I’m over it, I stop. I’m not pushing myself right now, this is a gentle time.
Resting–like those sweet trees that are now laying on the forest floor, resting after (potentially thousands of) years growing and reaching towards the sun, I am resting. So when the time comes to take advantage of a spark or inspiration or something delightful, I’ll be ready.
Tidying–one thing I find therapeutic, necessary and helpful is tidying. When my space is awry, so am I. I tend to do it in bursts, and sometimes I lament doing it, but I’m always glad once I am done.
Anywho, whatever your fire is--whether it’s the break you open or burn you to the ground to start anew, or redirecting you or lighting your way--I hope you know that even though it may be terrible and not feel okay at all, you are not alone. The sun will come out. The flame will re-ignite, the smoke will clear, and maybe like the trees in Yosemite, something beautiful will come from all the burning.
Me hugging one of the big trees after waiting my whole life to meet them. (I almost gave up on this hike several times and thought I would never make it but took it five minutes at a time and did in fact make it.) Consider this hug for you too.
xoxo elton b
