The Fire You Build on Purpose
We are in Hocking Hills this week. We are not an outdoors family. I will be honest and call it glamping, not camping. There is a sauna involved : )
But the property has a fire pit, and here is something I did not expect to admit at this age: I have never really built a fire.
The first two nights I failed. I had kindling. I had matches. I had the BIC lighter. I would get a flame, watch it climb for thirty seconds, and watch it die. Twice.
Tonight, last night here, I cheated. I used one of those big fire starter logs. But when I laid the small sticks across it, something happened that had not happened the two nights before. They caught. And because they caught, I knew to wait before adding the bigger logs. Those are burning as I write this.
The starter log was not what changed. Two nights of failing was what changed. I had learned the order.
Most of us want to skip to the big logs. We want the thing to be roaring before it has any coals under it. Small sticks first is not a lesser version of the fire. It is the only version that lasts.
There is a second thing about fire I keep thinking about.
A few months ago, we were hiking in Canmore, and our guide told us that these forests need to burn. Not survive a burn. Need one. Some pines have cones sealed shut with resin, and the seeds inside cannot get out unless fire opens them. Foresters set some of these burns on purpose.
I know some of you are in a fire right now that you did not set and would not have chosen. I am not going to tell you it is secretly a gift. That is not my place and it would not be true.
What I will tell you is that ash is not the end of the story in a forest, and it is usually not the end of the story in a life. The ground gets cleared. Things that were sealed shut get opened.
Stay in the fight. Lean on the people who love you.
And this week, look at the fire a little differently.