I named my blog Lessons from the Fire because, in the darkness of an early December morning, in my living room, on the couch, by the fireplace, after my walk of at least 9/10 of a mile (don't ask) with the dogs, drinking a Thermos of coffee one tiny Styrofoam cup at a time, staring at a computer screen as if something amazing or astonishing or awe-inspiring or exceptional or extraordinary or phenomenal or rare or uncommon or special or interesting or life-changing were going to suddenly and spontaneously appear this time, I felt really, really disenchanted with technology in general and the "Web" in particular. I thought, "Why do I do this? I'm so disappointed with modern life. I mean, I can Google anything and instantly know more than I wanted to know about it. I can send and receive messages to and from every corner of the planet. News, weather, sports - anyone, anywhere, anytime - not a problem. Shouldn't this make me at least somewhat happy?"
It does not. And so I look away from the orderly glow of the computer screen to the chaotic glow of the fire burning in the fireplace.
I wonder why I'm almost 54 years old and still spend quite a bit of time on cold mornings like this fooling around with the fire when I could be combing the World Wide Web for all its "useless and pointless knowledge," to borrow a 1965 Bob Dylan lyric. The answer is that fire is more interesting to me, often, than what I end up finding online. Still, I do my banking, pay some bills, and check my email for that personal invitation to dine with Barack and Michelle on Pennsylvania Avenue.
I thought I'd explain the title of my blog so that no one would mistake it for some high-minded treatise on the trials and tribulations of my cushy American life and unremarkable past.
The metaphoric qualities of fire to life are legion, and I won't pretend to be able to list all, or even most of them as an amateur writer. Besides, I feel pretty sure it would be a bit of reinventing the wheel, as it seems very unlikely that someone else, or a bunch of other someones hasn't already listed them.
Fire is primal, necessary and dangerous. It has the power to save life and destroy it. It can boil water, kill bacteria, save you from freezing or asphyxiate you.
Starting a fire can be both easier and harder than you might think. Fire only wants fuel and oxygen, but it wants them in roughly equal quantities. Ever watched someone throw a match on a dead Christmas tree? It virtually explodes because the combination of fuel (dead pine needles) and oxygen (the spaces between the tens of thousands of needles) is optimal. Loosely packed sawdust can be explosively and spontaneously combustive. Amateur human fire builders are notorious for misunderstanding the flash point of various materials. They try to light a large log soaked with lighter fluid using a single match and then wonder why the fire goes out when the lighter fluid burns away. Start with something small and dry and don't pack it tightly together. Leave some air space or blow on it. Gradually build up to larger pieces of combustible material and you'll have a fire.
I'm no expert about fire, but I do know a little. Fire is still teaching me. Like how it's good to respect simple, old things that have stood the test of time. Do it, but don't over-do it. And when it goes out, maybe that's a sign that it's time to move on.
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