The Dichotomy of Fire

“Fire is a double edged sword. It can give us warmth and cook our food, but it can also burn us.”

I have  a complicated relationship with fire and by that I mean I love it. Maybe a little too much. 

Since I was born an Aries, which is a fire sign, that really shouldn’t come as any surprise, but recently— like this week—our relationship had been tested. I have to admit that it’s strained and like any other relationship that is fraught with turmoil, I guess you could file it under the heading of a love/hate sort of thing.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a thing for fire. From Girl Scout campfires that imprinted me with happy childhood memories tied to the smell of burnt hickory in my hair and gooey, marshmallow-chocolately graham cracker goodness, to warm, cozy, afternoons reading instead of skiing because—why not? 

It has always held me under its spell; a mesmerizing force of nature that can purify or destroy, cleanse or choke with its smoke, and perform its own special brand of alchemy by reducing the solid to ashes. 

As an Aries, I may have been known to maniacally stoke the “Witches” bonfires that my tribe and I gather around whenever we’re together. Under that spell, I stand a little too close, blindly feeding its ravenous flames with twigs and sticks for hours at a time. Oddly impervious to the smoke, my eyes don’t burn, and I feed the flames with the same single-minded love and devotion I usually reserve for truffle almonds and my BFF. 

All I’m saying is, I’m weird you guys. 

By design, I have three fireplaces at my house and I if I had my druthers, or if I lived in Sweden or Buffalo New York, a fire would roar happily 24/7. But I don’t, I live in freaking Southern California so I can only light them MAYBE ten days a year. 

I also have a thing for candles and staring into their flames as a form of meditation. Like I said, I find fire mesmerizing. 

So, you can imagine my conflicted confusion when giant wildfires broke out in California on Thursday. I sat glued to the news reports, staring at the flames, but this time it wasn’t due to my fascination with all things hot and fiery—it was because one of them was a little too close to home. It was licking at the doorstep of a neighborhood I know well. My sister’s to be exact. It was threatening the warm and homey haven where she’s raised her kids. We’ve held family Christmas festivities there every year for as long as I can remember. She’s hosted birthday barbecues, post funeral gatherings, anniversary parties, and taco night. And it was where we all gathered and sat in a stupor the day after our dad died. 

It’s our family “go to” hang out.

And to add a bit of insult to injury—after fifteen years she just remodeled her kitchen, and it’s so beautiful it would make Martha Stewart weep with envy.

But let’s get real here. My heart aches as I write this. These fires have been relentless in their destruction. Animals were killed and people have died. And THAT is unforgivable.

I have come to the realization that fire is a dangerous obsession. It shows up without knocking, sucks all the oxygen out of the room, and it can burn you and the things you love to ash in an instant. I suppose I knew that on a subconscious level but now that I’ve witnessed its handiwork up close, this has become very personal to me. 

In the end my sister’s home was saved. Thank God for all of the extraordinarily courageous fire fighters. They are a very special breed of human being. They are the ones who run toward the flames as we run away and I cannot stress our gratitude strongly enough.

I remember hearing once that most firefighters also have a real fascination with fire. They too are mesmerized by its mysterious flames; its amber glow. But they’ve also borne witness to the destructive nature of this untamed beast. Its impulsivity, and unpredictability. The lives it takes so indiscriminately. The forests, homes and businesses it devours without rhyme or reason. The lives it takes. The lives it ruins.

So, their fascination is tempered by a healthy respect. 

Not me. I feel burned.  I feel sick for all of the people who have lost so much. I’m pissed. This feels personal. Maybe I’ll get there. Just not there yet.

Please, if you get a second, send California some love. We could use it. And if you have a fire story, feel free to share it here. Believe it or not it helps to vent.

Carry on,
xox