Me, Myself, and the Fire.

I was sitting by the fire one night at my grandma's place, and got inspired. I love watching the flames as they smoothly dance around the sun-like glow of the embers within. I started to see many parallels and applicable metaphors between the fire and life; in particular, things I've been pondering lately. I turned off and unplugged all the lights that were still on, so that the only essence you could see or feel in the room was myself and the fire.

It was almost as if the fire was talking to me.. I appreciated the "cycle" of the flames... how they are so small when you first put a log on, then it catches completely and bursts into a loud, windy, crackling inferno, until it slowly melts down into the calm normal fire it once was. After that it reduces to the mere embers playing tag with colors of orange and yellow on the different pieces of what was once chopped wood. Incredible...

I relate this to the cycle of many things in life, but in particular for me, I relate it to the flow of creativity. It's a funny concept. Unlike a fire in a fireplace, you can't simply throw a "duraflame" log of creativity on your chosen medium and strike a match. It comes and goes randomly; you have no control. But how this fire DOES relate to creative flow is explained below.

As weird as it may sound, and as sane as I think I am, the flames seemed to have a voice. I heard the words loud and clear, and they did not come from a cognitive place in my mind. Whether or not the words actually came from a couple pieces of inanimate, brainless wood lit on fire, I felt a strong message that left as fast as it came.

I was feeling frustrated about sometimes being brilliantly creative to the point where I truly surprise myself, and other times where I feel about as creative as a soggy napkin.. There were many more feelings and scenarios branching off of this thought-tree, but that is the root of it. Just then as I was blankly staring at the fire, it said- "You should be more like me. Sometimes my flame is low and barely noticeable, and other times it's roaring like there's no stopping it. Either way it just happens, and I'm never bent out of shape about it. Just let it come, and let it go.. Be content either way..."

And in about a tenth of the time it took you to read that, it came and left. The message was not told to me in real-time.. It was as if I downloaded a file and unzipped it faster and more clearly than anyone could have explained or worded it. It felt like there was no linear time, and the fire just communicated that to me in an instant, and I fully understood it.. A truly magical experience, yet at the same time, it was no big deal. All of a sudden I felt very relaxed. I felt as though I had a much better understanding of how many things work in the world, and that there's no reason to react so strongly either way. Just let it flow.

Right then, I was inspired and got a pen and pad. I wanted to write down the feeling I got from the fire's power and perseverance. Here's what I wrote:

I sit at home
with no lights on.

The day has come,
the day has gone.

The time is late,
to where it's early,

yet (the) fire still burns,
not ready to yawn.


I awoke a few hours later, awkwardly positioned laying in the dark next to an empty fireplace. I shivered but still thanked the fire for the enlightening experience. I looked down at the few lines I had written, and started to judge it, because my mind said it wasn't finished, and it wasn't enough.. Just then I realized- like the fire itself, the creative flow for my poem had come, and it had gone... and that was perfectly fine.