Building a fire
When I was young, we had a pot belly stove. I loved being
responsible for building a fire in it. Usually we used newspaper and pinecones
to build a big pile of flammable material and then light the whole thing up.
The fire would burn for a few minutes and quickly extinguish all the fuel. And
then I would spend ages blowing at it, re-building it, and eventually small
embers would form and a fire would slowly start. The best thing about these
fires was that I learnt that the really hot coals at the bottom were excellent
for cooking my creations. I made horses out of clay that we collected from the
hills nearby and baked them in the stove. The slower they baked, the less
likely they were to break.
So let’s talk about love.
Love in the past has been a brazen fire, an assault on the
senses, a passionate affair that dealt me a blow, and a fire would burn in a
big roar of fuel and intense heat. And more often than not, the fuel would burn
out. Or the things that were put in that fire would break, because it was too
hot.
When I first met my newborn babies, I didn’t love them like
that. I remember thinking that loving Phoebe might diminish my love for my then
partner. And when Amy was born, that loving her would in turn diminish my love
for Phoebe. And yet, I was so wrong. My love for my children was a slow love
that grew daily. It was like a fire that you add small amounts of fuel to every
day, and it slowly builds to a large blaze that has interminable amounts of
fuel and replenishes from a place of abundance that I cannot explain.
I am much older now, I have experienced love of all kinds.
Love for my animals, love for my friends, love for my fellow
humans. And, ye gods, romantic love has happened to me again. This time, it
has been a slow burn between equals. A fire that started with a small spark
that has steadily grown. A small fire that allows individual growth and allows
things to be placed in it to mature without breaking. A fire that I hope will
burn with greater intensity every day. A fire that requires tending to, adding
to, some oxygen sometimes to allow breathing space; and wood added to it to
build embers.
A fire like this has millions of possibilities, it is not
limited by the size of the container it is placed in, nor the amount of fuel
you have, because it is independent of all of that. I want to learn how to care
for this fire. I want to learn how to build it. It is a good fire.
So, because I trust it, I am placing a lump of clay in this
fire, an investment. I am risking that it may break. But I hope it will not, as
this fire is a slow, patient fire. A fire that will hopefully endure. It has
taken a long time for this lesson to sink in, but I am glad it has.
