missjordanjean
  • blog
  • library
  • Remedies
  • Bath & Beauty
  • Household
  • The Rest
  • about
  • quotes
  • blog
  • library
  • Remedies
  • Bath & Beauty
  • Household
  • The Rest
  • about
  • quotes

alight

8/24/2015

2 Comments

 
I love the way fire works. 

You spend all this time chopping logs and gathering leaves and breaking sticks up into itty bitty pieces...and then you crouch down low on your knees and put all the tiny pieces together and fashion them into a miniature teepee. You light a match. And you sit there on your haunches leaning over the wispy smoke with your nose and forehead so close to the ground you can smell the dirt. You blow tenderly, ever so softly, and try to coax the leaves to light the baby sticks, to light the bark. 

One tiny ember is a sure sign of hope. You give the faint spark some air and feed it a leaf and beg it to grow...grow! And then the leaf catches and you pray the sticks will join before the leaves burn out--and all the while this pile of stuff you're working with is no bigger than your fist. Pint-sized. You keep blowing into the little space and dropping more baby sticks inside...and then you hear the popping. One pop, then another, then it's like the whole stick orchestra has sprung to life. It's music to your ears. "Keep popping," you plead. 

Still, no flames. 

Just smoke. Billowy smoke, now. The kind of smoke that assures you the leaves have burned out and the sticks are getting hot. Your eyes sting--and water. You can still smell the dirt. Anyone from a distance would think you'd gone mad. Face an inch from the ground, on all fours, blowing little puffs of air into a pile of damp rubble that, for all intents and purposes, is just a stack os sticks. But you know better. You can feel the heat, see the thin line of billowing smoke rise and then get carried away by the wind before it ever crests over the top of the fire ring. 

You know there's hope. You, only you, can see the single orange ember holding all the Life. You're near enough to notice. And so you keep coaxing and feeding and blowing. You know that once the ember gets hot, the sticks will alight with embers of their own--one spark turning into two, into ten, into a whole flame.

The popping gets louder, and a stick catches; the flame too faint to be seen by anyone but you. Because you're the one who has drawn near. The one who has chosen to stick it out. You guard the burning stick with your entire being; your body between it and the breeze. You lean over it and catch the raindrops on your back, because you know the stick's flame is still fragile. It cannot yet handle a wet teardrop.

You gather more sticks. These, slightly larger. You stack them around the one with the flame, and you bend low and blow oxygen. Your breath is the fuel the pile needs. It needs your presence to get going. If you leave, it will smoulder and fade--its few sparks lost to abandonment. 

So, you stay. And you stack. The medium sticks catch fire, and now it's hot in the pit. You back away and grab some logs. You can trust the pile, now. It's hot enough to stand on its own, for a while.

Gently, you stack big logs around the growing, flaming pile. The flames lick at the bark and then the big logs give off fire of their own. You stand back. Friends gather. Food gets brought out. The Thing is now strong enough to keep itself aflame. It will burn on its own. You can eat your breakfast and take a walk and go for a swim and when you return, the logs will still be alight. 

Every so often, you add more fuel. 
But that's all the pile requires of you, now. 
Maintenance. 
Checking-up. 
It has found a life of its own.

The sticks just needed Someone patient enough to Stay while they only smoked...Someone with enough foresight to see the one ember and Believe it could...would...light the night. 
Picture
2 Comments
Gene carlson
8/24/2015 04:18:24 pm

What a wonderful expression knowing you do anything if put your mind, your heart and soul to it.

Unfortunately this year we can't have any camp fires in most camp grounds and none at all unimproved sites. The water temperature is rising in some streams because the volume of water has decreased due to low moisture in the mountains, so fishing rules going to change in most Oregon small streams. The Metolius river is not subject to those changes because the water volume per second varies only slightly no matter if there is a good snow pack or not.

Gene

Reply
Jordan
8/26/2015 12:43:39 am

Gene,

Thanks so much for writing. Bummer that fire isn't an option down in that world--I know it makes camping slightly less fun. I wish the drought would let up! Hopefully we get some snow this winter.

Much love!

-J

Reply



Leave a Reply.

    hey, i'm jordan.

    wife to one, mama to four, bible-believing christian. 

    ​encouraging you in simple, wholesome, hearty, contented living.

    Archives

    November 2022
    April 2021
    February 2021
    January 2021
    November 2016
    August 2016
    April 2016
    February 2016
    January 2016
    December 2015
    November 2015
    October 2015
    September 2015
    August 2015
    July 2015

    Categories

    All
    Advice
    Books
    Capernwray
    Childhood
    Christmas
    Church
    College
    Conversations
    Dating
    Faith
    Family
    Friends
    Gifts
    Holidays
    Home
    Humanitarian
    Letters
    Marriage
    Mental Health
    Motherhood
    Music
    Nature
    Nursing School
    Poetry
    Politics
    Recycling
    Singleness
    Thoughtfulness
    Travel

    RSS Feed

Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.