We Didn't Start the Fire

Some people read books, some changes are inspired by poetry, and some rely on the wisdom from friends or fortune cookies or quotes underneath bottle caps to lead their life in its next new direction. But - there is a lot to be learned from the cyclical nature of things that happen around us every day. As people, we come and go, and spend the process of our lives trying to get better by what we learn and how it applies to making situations better for ourselves and those we love. A lot of these lessons can be learned by just paying attention to the subtleties by which the trees still stand, the birds still sing, and rocks become perfectly smooth just by looking up from a modest river. And not. doing. a. damn. thing. These are things that have lasted much longer than I ever will and with so much less control. I don't read a lot of books that encourage me to relinquish control and encourage taking no action whatsoever. 

The other day was a cold day, inside and out, and I decided to start a fire to bring some warmth to my situation. An event that was mostly reserved for the man of the house, I realized that I had relied on that for so long I did not even know how to build fire -- one of the most basic needs of survival. I struggled with the flue, got soot all over my hands, and set up the wood how I picture campfires in my mind. I wadded and lit the paper, put it into my perfect arrangement, yet it merely teased me until it just dissipated into ashes once again. As my frustration grew, my sense of failure also grew, and I began to correlate all sorts the disappointments in my life with the fizzling fire. I was doing everything right that I knew how to do, and it lay there, crackling and cold. In a final attempt I got down on my knees, through tears, to cup my hands and blow my wavering breath to the still-burning embers only to see glimpses of hope and inevitable failure. Again.

I walked away, dejected and bruised, to focus my efforts onto other things that needed done and served to take my mind off of the smoke lingering in the fireplace. I turned on the space heater, put on some socks, and eventually I did forget about my earlier efforts because I was productive elsewhere. About an hour later, while bringing some clothes out into the living room, I heard a crackling from the hallway. Slowly, I approached the hearth to see that the wood and ashes - which had been gray and dull - were now fully engulfed into healthy sized flames, with each log afire. Outside, I heard the wind whistling through the trees and realized it was nature's own hand that started my fire. Perhaps I did have everything perfectly placed, but the conditions were just not conducive for the flourishing fire when I wanted it. 

The best thing I actually did was to walk away.