I started playing with fire when I was born.
Basically, my, father, a fireman, Norm
would listen to his work radio at home
and when there was a fire he would go,
sometime with me in tow, we would rush
to catch the action, though I don’t even really remember seeing any flame …
To him it was a game.
And of course, on Shabbas, the Jewish day of rest,
we always lit candles, two or more… to bless us.
Bringing warmth, and familiarity.
I could touch the flame with my finger, with hilartiiy I knew,
but not for long, my mother would sing the
“stop setting such a bad example” song…
little did she know, I was too far gone
In Girl scouts, I learned how to build a fire, all by myself.
A frame or teepee style. And I remember feeling proud.
Like I knew, that if it came to man versus now, I could make warmth and light.
Somehow I could feed myself off this earth,
for what it’s worth to a third grader at camp that felt like church,
I was certain, I could conquer it with the power of the earth.
So I started smoking cigarettes, rapidly.
Thinking if fire was so great, clearly I should inhale.
I thought vapidly “it’s not that big of a deal, playing with fire is fun”
but little did i know what a hold on my life it would have, stunned.
10 years later. An aspiring non smoker. All in fun. Still lit. Take a hit.
Self-shunned.
I remember in high school having a conversation with a fire,
one night, I was lit. After eating some fungus, all by myself for a bit,
I bonded with this outdoor ceramic chimneia so deeply, so openly.
We laughed and wept and I learned so much about the universe
from those dying embers. I tell you, it changed me.
Like college. I got burned a few times, but it was always worth it in the end,
the lessons learned and scars earned.
And the shocked look on someones face lit up,
when they see a fire dancer light up for the first time,
that is something I truly cherish and embrace.
Feel the warmth. Come closer it won’t burn you. It’s sacred.
I remember explaining to my family one Friday evening
that I was learning how to hula hoop with fire.
8 years later, they are finally clear, it’s not a passing desire.
I use all kinds of props and fire toys now as play,
I don’t even know how it happened, but I could spin for days.
Forget the boys…. I did catch my hair on fire once or twice,
but mostly I’ve come out unscathed.
I can hold fire in my hand with certainty, and make it pretty.
It is a gift. I never feel more powerful than that moment of awe.
Spinning fire is ancient. Our ancestors used fire to survive and to entertain.
To cook. To sleep on cold nights. Fire has kept us all alive.
And yet also stolen many lives
And yes I’ve been known to leave the stove on a time or two on accident, a bit too long. I’ll admit, sometimes i’m just careless…. See
I’ve lately been playing with fire with my health clearly not valuing my own wealth. i know, I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. It’s just, well there was a lot of fun to be had, and then some, it’s just hard to keep up with the flame. And I’m only almost thirty. Is it time to wake uP? Maybe spinning fire isn’t really what’s up. I’ve been real up on luck, why push it right? i mean I played with fire with an ass-fuck and that too sucked, I’ve been thinking about letting up…
How long have I been setting fire to this microphone until I blow up?
As nice as it would be to make it in the business of show, I’m about ready to give it up. Maybe a sign would be nice, that fire is safe. I do have performance insurance…
2 million dollar policy. It all comes down to trust. Letting the flame bless us
in the nature of comfort. Be that it may stay contained and perhaps only then
should I play, just a bit more, in the interest of lust. One more time.
The flame sparks. My life ignites. I am whole.
One with the flame and one with my chi. One with sky. One with me.
So now, every full moon or solstice…
I light a candle and pray that I don’t get burned again.
