Sitting in front of a fireplace. Vivid memory smolders deep within, of the moment my fire dwindled. Dousing water on the flames of my words, expressions, emotions, I would not allow my passion to burn so brightly again. By some miracle, I never allowed the fire to be extinguished. Embers glowing, tucked away – not to warm another, enrage another, or singe another’s perspective for a very long time.
Authority was fire greater than my own. And so I hid my fire in tiny embers safe within my chest. Protected. The protector squeezed the beating of my heart to inaudible rhythms in hopes that smallness would keep negation at bay.
But I did not want to fade away. So I learned to find the heartbeat of others. I became proficient in feeling with, beating with, merging with, affirming, supporting its life pumping blood in the ones I loved. Little by little, I forgot my own embers. Occasionally stirred by beauty, or distant possibility, or remembering, or voice of Spirit, flickers of life leapt to the surface for a moment. Is it possible they were able reignite?
Then Ice. Icy air that made me find shelter even as I struggled to stay merged with the faint beating of the heart that was finally to be one with my inaudible rhythms. I hate the cold. I would rather burn.
In frigid air, I peered inside my tiny space where minuscule embers called to me. “Choose to fan me into flame. Allow fire that burns beyond the boundaries of the fireplace you sat in front of. BURN.”
And so I allowed the Wind to blow, even its icy breath into my tiny space. Embers responded and sparked to life. Flickers of hope, fire reigniting, warming my dreams, my voice, my passion, my desire into a raging fire. . .
To set the world aflame.