Slowly I’m building a stack of small pieces of wood. A mini-tipi is what I’m after, with a bit of cheating in the middle: a small block of firelighter.
Even with the cheating, I don’t feel comfortable at all that this little tipi is the start of a warm fire in our stove. The match lights up the firelighter, and after a while the tipi starts to burn as well. So far so good..
Then I add a smallish block of wood, but of course, the tipi falls down when I do this. A few more small pieces of wood, another smallish woodblock, and I just hope it will all catch fire.
Smoke coming into the room rather than going through the chimney pipe. I hear one of the bigger blocks sizzling – apparently not all wood is as dry as it could be.
Then I notice I’m feeling a bit anxious about this, that I’m worried I might not be able to do this.
And I then I choose to fuel my starting fire with gratitude and trust: ‘this will be a wonderfully blazing fire’.
I feel the warmth of my trust entering me, and entering the fire. And I continue to sit in front of the stove, watching what happens with gratitude and trust.
After a while I shift a block, and I wait again, enjoying the flames playing. Things are starting to warm up, and I feel more and more confident that actually – I can make a fire.
This fire is alive!
And as the afternoon continues, I am struck by how true this is. This fire needs a watchful eye, making sure I add more wood in time. So when I’m working, I still need some attention for the fire as well.
It feels so heart-warming, learning how to make my own fires, rather than letting my love do this (who lived in this house for a long time before I joined).
And it is introducing me to Fire, as one of our elements.
It feels true to my priestess nature to start to get to know her much more intimately.
I vow to myself I’ll be making many more fires. I vow to Fire I will be honouring her by learning how to start her, how to feed her and how to contain her. And I will be enjoying her deeply.