Once upon a time it was 2019 and everything was fine.
I mean, nothing is ever “fine”, but in 2019 I had a full head of brains and a business that was running pretty well.
Then the pandemic hit a few weeks after my 10-year relationship ended.
That was three years ago, and all is well now.
But those pesky three years.
Especially last year, when I only wrote you once.
I’m gonna tell you what happened for two reasons.
First, so you’ll be as excited as I am that I’m finally offering in person events again, including at Darkwood!
And second, because you might relate. If so, I want you to feel companioned, understood, and sorta normal about what’s going on for you.
So, here’s what happened.
Wait, lemme say this first.
I learned how to build a campfire when I was about 6 years old in a church parking lot at a Brownies meeting.
We learned how to start a fire, kindling.
How to get it to take, tinder.
And how to keep it going, fuel.
We also learned when to bank a fire and let it settle down into a bed of coals.
In 2019, I was tending a nice big fire (my business).
I’d spent years with the kindling and tinder, working hard to get the fire going.
By 2019 she was a’goin’ good — that perfect campfire that’s as warm as it is beautiful; pure joy to gather around and roast some marshmallows over.
All I had to do was keep ‘er goin’ by throwing on logs in the form of classes at Darkwood, archetype readings at the Herbiary, rituals at Magictown, etc.
So when the pandemic hit, it was as if my big pile of firewood was suddenly gone.
And also, my heart was broken and my household was upended, so just as suddenly I didn’t have energy to stoke the fire or gather wood either.
It’s hard to tend anything when you’ve had the breath knocked out of you, the life scared out of you, or the shit kicked out of you.
You know?
So I just sorta sat by the fire and leaned on the fire-poking stick for 3 years.
I sat there while the last of the logs whistled in night.
I sat as the warmth of it receded.
And I felt a lot of fear that it was gonna go out before I had the strength or the focus to stoke it, much less build it all over again.
One day, I got down on my metaphorical knees with my metaphorical face right near the ground, and I blew.
I filled my lungs with air and blew straight at the place where the fire used to be.
I saw a glow build up and then quiet back down.
I felt warmth.
I sat up and held my hands over this spot where the fire was and felt a whole lot of warmth.
Coals.
I got back down and blew on the coals again, harder this time.
That fire leapt right up, hungry.
I immediately went in search of tinder and fuel to get this fire going again.
Coals, ya’ll.
The fire wasn’t out one bit.
Even though it looked like it was.
Maybe you’ve got a bed of coals, too?
Maybe there’s something in your life that you’ve had a real long time, like a relationship, or a job, or a dream, but it’s been quiet.
You put in years of kindling and years of tinder, and for a while she was a’goin’ good.
And then something happened, and you stopped adding to it, stopped tending it.
Because you had to.
And the whole time you were scared to death that you’d let this thing go out — this warm, beautiful thing.
Somethings are a bed of coals, ready to re-kindle.
It’s ok to let fires go out, too.
Tiny little momentary fires won’t have coals.
But one that you’ve taken the time to build and tend will, and those fires take a long time to go out.
So if you want to rekindle it, you can. If you don’t, give it time and don’t add any fuel.
It’s ok to bank a fire.
It’s ok to preserve resources and just let the coals be.
Lifelong friendships, businesses with heft and purpose, hardwired skillsets and aptitudes can be “coals”.
One day, you’ll know when because you’ll be strong enough and interested enough to tend it again, you’ll just blow on the coals and viola, fire.
The point is you won’t always have the energy to tend, even things you hold dear.
But if there’s a good enough bed of coals, you won’t have to.
Currently I happen to have a big fresh fire, and you’re invited (a class, a meditation, and a divination).
Maybe coming to sit by it will help you re-kindle your own.
I’m pleased to announce for the first time in three years: a meditation at The Asheville Salt Cave, Archetype Readings at the Herbiary, and a mystical Aromatherapy training at Darkwood.
Details for events can always be found here.
love and parking lot campfires,
kv
