Its Never Really That Dark Outside

The act of sitting in the night and watching fire, if you let it, will open up something. Fire is something that exists deep in our psyche, it is fundamental, basic, primal, life, and death. Here is a a story of this power:

Watching Fire: A painting over many paintings

‘Walking from car to work-in the dark’, thought Celest, ‘walking from work to the car-in the dark, walking from car into the cabin-in the dark. Siting in the dark, sleeping in the dark, waking in the dark’.

“What is this orbit I’m Caught in!?”

She shouted this after closing the door with her back and slumping to the floor. She sat there, crumpled into a seated fetal position, coat and boots still on, bag fallen at her side-contents rolled out and about and under shelves. A minute passed, she could not move. 5 minutes passed, she wanted to move. 10 minutes passed and her limbs were starting to get tingly and the discomfort was just on the edge of surpassing her apathy. A large sigh emerged and transformed into a groan, then a wail and finally laughter. She ended up laying on her back head near the door looking up at the ceiling.

“hmmmmph”

defeated yet amused. she lay there, knowing that something different needed to be done tonight. This dark orbit of drudgery must be disrupted. She thought about gravitational fields for a while. And about the Dark. And about brightness, light, where it comes from. Deciding that it was time to phone a friend-!but first! clean this up and take my jacket off.

“Okay” ….

“Taking the jacket off, nice! hanging it up, yep! now where’s my bag? oh right, yep, spilled the beans (chuckle) what a mess”

I crouched down to put all the bits and bob back into their bag. Leaning forward cheek to the carpet to rescue the goods that slid under the shelf-something glinted goldish back at me. I turn the other cheek and shove my arm all the way back through the dust, grimacing, and snatch it. A matchbook. Midnight blue with Gold letters that read “Synchronicity Lite” on the other side was a strange symbol that looked like a Tv broadcasting a triangle to another triangle. I ponder for a moment and then remember grabbing a matchbook from a bar weeks ago that seemed curious. I opened it up maybe I should just lite a candle do a little flame gazing or something.….. Written inside:

“Its never

really that

dark outside once

you’re in the woods +

start a fire”

There was a big maroon heart above the message and five matches missing. I wonder if this matchbook was out at a fire in the woods already? I wondered if there was someone else out there that felt like it was always dark…….

“Well that Settles it… Back out!”

How hard can it be, I was a Girl Scout once, I think as start to layer up; I want to be warm, actually warm-its about -10F out there not bad but if I want to hangout outside I think I best go about 3 layers deep. And the real boots, deep snow explorers. Big mitts, and little gloves, scarf… extra scarf? hmmmmm…. no, fire.

“hat, matches….. ummmmmm paper?!?”

I grab a wad of receipts that have been loitering around for this budgeting version of me to appear…

“Not Tonight!” I shout as a stuff them all in my pocket, put on a hat and march out the door.

I stood on my porch and looked out realizing only now that I didn’t have a destination in mind. It looked dark, beyond the edge of the porch light, and I felt it-or was that the cold. Its never really that dark out… hmmm you think so. I defiantly turned off the porch light, and was left blinking and on the edge of being scared. Eyes slowly recalibrated focusing on far away spots of light from other cabins. The foreground came into vision and then I saw the stars (smile). Everything was a shade of blue, but I could see. Huh. I guess it isn’t really that dark out.

My feet started walking, I still didn’t know where I was going. But maybe they did. I just looked Looking around at the scenery realizing I can see in the dark, that’s fucking cool. I liked the feeling of walking in the cold. It made me feel tough, and purposeful. Weird.

I ambled down the road, feeling a bit brighter and lighter with every step. The snow berm looked especially climbable, I scrambled up and walked along its peak, giggling to myself a bit-feeling like Mowgli. I was nearing the end of my road and I saw a trail. Smiling I hopped down, clicked my heels, then headed down the path into the woods.

I shook my head as I thought of my state of mind just 20 minutes ago-Drastically different. What was that? What is this?

noticing a small clearing a bit off the trail. I push through some willows and stepped into this little space, after a little princess twirl and looked up to find a half moon.

“Hello there, would you like to join me for a fire?…… Yes, yes of course you would.”

I paused to look around. how to build a fire… There was a big spruce to one side, I saw all the fuzzy twigs at the bottom and it jogged my memory a bit. I went about grabbing this and that and soon enough It was time to strike a match.

“Deorbit immanent” I laughed

I pulled out the matchbook and eventually got a match lit, moved it slowly into the receipts, the flame erupt into the kindling-stepped back, watched and smiled.

I stayed out there for a good hour keeping the fire going. Everything felt right, my heart was full my face was warm. But soon I was sleepy. Building up the fire one last time, and then making myself a nice little place to sit and watch it die out. Oh the poetic drama that is watching a fire die.

I paid attention to the colors, and tried to find patterns in the flickers. As the fire got low a deep well of longing rose up. This new pang in my chest was for something I could not understand, I felt homesick for something. I wanted to stay in this simple joy of tending the fire, feeling the warmth. I looked around in the soft glow at my little trails into the woods-the places I’d tramped down, the new space cleared. My thoughts disrupted by a yawn, I turned back towards the fire, tidied up the edges, watched it flare back up for a moment.

What was once bight and powerful was now just glowing chunks of charcoal I felt myself rise, my feet kicked snow over the coals, and I stomped and kicked until the steam stopped, looked up at the stars, and then rooted back around to make sure it was all cold wintery again.

Making my way back to the trail felt potent. I squeezed through the last of the thicket and then paused in the trail sighed and began my walk home. Feeling a sweet easy smile, hearing the crunch of boots on snow, sensing the deep cold on my thighs and belly, I was content. Walking lost in thought and then at my door step, then inside, then in bed, then asleep.

And when Celest woke up the next morning, she woke up with a knowing smile. It never really gets dark, especially when you know you can always go make a fire in the woods.