Come to the fire
My eyes pop open in the hours before dawn as though a dim voice has spoken plainly into my ear, “Time to get up. Come to the fire.” I swing out of bed and whisper to my wife, Carin, who is still asleep, “I’m going to the fire.” I quietly get dressed, drink ½ a cup of coffee, and head out the door with a medicine bag over my shoulder.
“Come to the fire” is a silent whisper, a gentle call to slip into the woods in the morning stillness.
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The wind was so fierce that I couldn’t keep a fire and so cold that I couldn’t sit still. It whipped wildly through the canyons and across open fields as if the spirit of the place had broken free.
In the pitch-black night I walked away from my camp along a narrow dirt road. Deliberately veering off the road, I stumbled through a choke of bushes and brambles descending into a dry river bed. I knelt down in the soft, cracked soil, thankful for respite from the incessant wind.
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The dusk deepened and the moon rose higher, arcing across the darkening sky. We sat together staring into the fire, two men, friends, brothers. The wind kicked up and the air suddenly grew cold. I fed more wood to the fire, the expanding firelight illuminating our minds.
“Look at me,” I said gently, tears in my eyes. “What story have you made up about love, about your love? I’m listening–tell me.”
An altar reflects beauty: flowers, candles, photos, art, a rosary, a braid of sweetgrass, arranged in a particular way. An artistic presentation of your own design at home or office, a reflection of something personal, heartfelt, and sacred.
As a chiropractor, I had altars everywhere in my office, in the reception area and treatment rooms, on tables, windowsills and desk corners. To the ordinary observer, they were just part of the decor. For me they were touchstones.
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My eyes pop open in the hours before dawn as though a dim voice has spoken plainly into my ear, “Time to get up. Come to the fire.” I swing out of bed and whisper to my wife, Carin, who is still asleep, “I’m going to the fire.” I quietly get dressed, drink ½ a cup of coffee, and head out the door with a medicine bag over my shoulder.
[Read more…] about What Is A Fire Ceremony?