Redneck philosifizin'

Have you ever sat and just watched a fire? I mean really watched it. It's tough to start at first, and sometimes it seems like the harder you try, the farther away that magic spark is. Of course, accidental fires are notoriously easy to light. But once the fire is lit, it's alive. It's got a mind of its own, and its both stubborn and fickle.

The flames leap up from the fuel, dancing across it like the northern lights brought to the ground. No two tongues of flame are ever exactly alike, but there are patterns that they always follow. Its interesting to note, however, that once the initial flush of flame dies down, the entire pile of fuel begins to glow. Looking in amongst the sticks, it is obvious that the air itself, everywhere in that space, is combusting. The fire is comprehensive, all-encomappassing in amongst its fuel. Most people fixate on the leaping flames, but it is obvious where the real beauty lies. The true elegance of a fire rests in its heart.

After forest fires and lightning strikes, snags and stumps have been found smouldering, even after heavy rain and weeks of time since the main fire passed through. The fire crawls into the heartwood, into the roots, into the secret nooks and crannies that every tree has. In some respects, fire knows trees better than any other being on this earth knows them. Putting out a smouldering stump can take hundreds of gallons of water, or a dozen people hacking it into little bits and spreading it out to cool, or both.

But fire isn't actually free. It is bound to systems and rules, just like we are. There are certain paraneters within which an enber can live, grow, become a flame. there are other parameters where fire dies quickly of exposure. Without its food and its air, the fire starves. If put in too small a space, it snuffs itself out. Embers and flames love company, but if you put too many of them in the same space, none of them have the resources to live.

Wildland firefighter and priest Peter Leschak wrote that when he dies, he hopes he may return and roam this earth as a wildfire, turning up wherever lightning or a careless match might strike, engaged in an earnest battle with firefighters, but extending them a certain professional courtesy, so to speak. He understands that although a fire will always burn itself out of its own accord if not snuffed sooner, fire will always be back. It's an integral part of earth's natural balance, here before we were, and here long after we're gone.