Reflections in the Open Fire — Strange Surges of Emotions

The Evening Begins

I lit the fire early this evening.

Outside, the wind was howling, and the rain was pelting down — only those who had to would dare to venture out into this sort of weather.

It was the perfect evening to nestle into the couch, to reflect on the good and bad in life, comforted by the warmth of the fire and my two little companions.

Immediately my mind went to the dark side.

I started thinking about the state of my life, the hole I was in. I shut these thoughts down.

I did want to go there — well, not yet anyway.

I looked into the fire, which began to crackle and pop as the wood started to burn — talking to me in a simple language that said warmth.

The flames danced like ballerinas, flitting in and out of contact with each other, putting on the show of their lifetime.

The spectacle of colors was mesmerizing. Orange, pink, yellow, and red against the light and dark browns of the wood.

Bygone visions of peace and comfort

I thought about little children playing tag on a sunny day.

“You’re it.”

“No, you are, I just tagged you back.”

The constant ebb and flow of their interactions echoed in the dancing flames.

My little girls stretched out. Ella made a contented murmur, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the company of her Dad.

Gi Gi just chomped her lips, moistened her tongue (which was always out), and rolled over, cuddling up to her sister.

I thought about the times when I was growing up and we would make toast in the open fire.

There was something special about fire-toast.

Maybe it is the thrill of making it made it extra special or the way the butter melted on the hot, smokey slices when they emerged from the fire.

The thoughts started making me hungry, but I was too settled, too comfortable to get up and do anything about it.

I gazed back into the fire. Time for some more wood — damn, I would have to get up anyway!

I put more wood on the fire and grabbed a hot drink and a piece of chocolate.

The Fickle Nature Revealed

I looked into the fire, searching for its soul.

I thought about the many times fire had kept people warm from a winter chill and warmed a meal for families at dinner time.

I saw the devil in the fire as I looked into the flames.

Thoughts about the houses that had been burned by careless fire use. Suddenly, there I was in ‘Negative thought land,’ reflecting on the damage and loss of life caused by bushfires.

Maybe it was the recent documentary I had seen on TV highlighting the bushfires and the loss of wildlife that resulted from them.

Thousands of animals perish with nowhere to turn when the might of a bushfire engulfs their homes, destroys their food, and robs them of whatever peace and tranquility they might have had.

I tried to imagine the despair of waking up to nothing: all possessions lost, a bleak future in sight, and a mountain of rebuilding to do.

Most of all, how the memories that cannot be replaced must play on your mind: photos of loved ones who have now passed. The children who were once young are now reduced to a thought in your mind, and that is all you have left to nurture.

My anxiety levels rose as I thought about those deranged people who deliberately lit fires for their gratification.

What right do they have to take power and put it into their own hands? They are disempowered people who are suddenly empowered with total disregard for others.

New wood, new thoughts.

As the fire died down again, so did my anxiety.

It had to do; what could I do about the devil in the fire?

I put on new wood — new beginnings, and new thoughts.

I returned to the more pleasant thoughts, the feelings of warmth against the coldness of the night outside.

I stroked my little girls, Gi Gi and Ella. They rolled over to have their tummies scratched.

The beauty of the open fire had returned.

Till next time,

Calvin

[Authors Note: This is the third of the "Reflection" series. Two previous two can be found here: