The Trouble With Fire

Revised July 3, 2019.

The trouble with fire is that it never stands still long enough to be seen. It’s like water falling, or snowflakes drifting down, or dry leaves blown by a gale.  But the camera loves to make them stand still.

These pictures were extracted from photos of a tiny fire I built at Kieferhaven (here at Balsamea) on November 4, 2018.  It was just a little pile of sticks and scraps of birch bark, something to enjoy for a little while.  That little fire has lasted a long, long while.

Click pix for larger views.

 

 

 

 

 

Copyright 2019 TheBalsamean.com
What do the pictures mean? Nothing, except an opportunity to enjoy making up what I want to see in something I can’t really see when I’m looking right at it.

What?  You saw something else in them?  What?

It can be fun playing with fire.  As The Balsamean says, “There is no solitude in the forest.  When in doubt, have a campfire.”  I do.

An artist’s eyes never rest!Lisa Brunetti

Below are a couple of my earlier posts about campfires, back in the ancient times of 2013.  I say ancient as in so far divorced from the present as to seem ancient.

This present I refer to is the latest explosion of American insanity manifest most monstrously in 2016 and since, continually worsening, almost daily, endangering the world, even the existence of the planet.

Perhaps a new beginning, or part of one, or a kind of healing help, could come through the tribes sitting together at campfires.  Trump would not sit for it.  He would curse it for not glorifying himself.  But many of his supporters know the peaceful fellowship of the campfire, the subtle glory of its shared soulfulness.  In it we can “pass the pipe,” so to speak, and consider one another in a better light, an equal light.

Thrice Warming Wood, March 15, 2013

To Build a Fire, September 20, 2013


Shortlink for this post: wp.me/p2fLMh-3vk

4 thoughts on “The Trouble With Fire

    • I definitely grok that! An interesting thing: a little fire, with a few of handfuls of little sticks no thicker than pencils, broken into about 6″ pieces, fed slowly into the flames, can be as satisfying as a bonfire. The wavering light, the fluctuating colors, the heat, the shadows and smoke, the aroma, the continuously changing dance, the shapes, the flow, the orange lighting of the trees above and around, and the faces of others, their thoughts and feelings flaring and settling and dissolving like the flames, sometimes even if they are not sitting there, if you are alone with their memory, the ash-feathered glow in the end, the conflation of passion and meditation inspired. Sheesh, fire is almost as much fun to contemplate as to experience in the flesh. Good to hear from you, Em. May the flame be with you!

      Liked by 1 person

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