This chilly Sunday morning I’m thinking about fire. On the one hand, it can be a very frightening thing– I live in an old house with a woodstove and equally aged wiring in some places, so there is always an awareness of it’s power to destroy. No doubt about that. But fire can also mean salvation, warming us, keeping the cold and dark and the things that live inside it at bay.
I love the photo above because to me it captures what is magical and beautiful about fire, it’s mystical power to entrance. Fire speaks to the most primitive part of us, I think, of both fear and life, the part that once took shelter in caves, hiding out from lions and tigers and bears (oh my). When I look at the image I remember that feeling of giving life to the flames on a dark night, watching them grow, and the reassurance that ultimately spreads through me, a warmth like no other.