Do you ever find yourself singing a song without really knowing why, and then, as it loops in your mind, a light bulb goes off? Like you hit the chorus, or a particular line midway through, and then you realize — ahhhh, that’s what made me think of this song!
This has happened to me often enough that I’ve learned to pay attention when a song starts playing in my brain. Not always, but frequently, there’s a little Easter egg in there for me; a message in a bottle, sent from the distant shores of my subconscious self to wash up on the beaches of everyday me.
I think something like that happened this morning, when I suddenly felt compelled to record the sound of the fire burning inside our wood-burning stove. It’s not a new thing, my love of these popping, wooshing, quietly roaring sounds, nor is it remotely unique, of course. It wouldn’t surprise me if the crackles of a cozy fire trigger a positive response in most humans, an inheritance from not-so-distant ancestors for whom these sounds were directly connected to safety and survival.
All of which is to say: I may have been moved to record these sounds this morning just because I love these sounds, and the opportunity presented itself.
But as I listened back, preparing to share this with you, I had one of those tingly moments when it felt like a hidden part of my psyche was reaching up from the depths, trying to make itself known.
The sounds, images, and stories from Minnesota are crushing. Enraging. Disorienting, heartbreaking, and all of the other descriptors you don’t need me to name because you’re feeling them too. I don’t know what to do, what to say, how to respond, how to be of use, how to even take in that this is reality.
I still don’t. This is not a post in which I walk myself or anyone else from despair and confusion into any sort of clarity.
All I know is this: I went to bed feeling overwhelmed with feelings about ICE. And I woke up with a clear, simple urge to meditate for a moment on fire.
That’s all, really. Listening to the fire, watching it, feeling its warmth — it felt good. If nothing else, it pulled my attention into my senses, all the way, for a moment. If you choose to listen, I hope it gives you a similar reprieve from the madness.
Finally — and this is a very trivial thing in the big picture, to be sure — it pisses me off that the cadre of goons terrorizing our country is using the name of one of Earth’s most beautiful, interesting, and necessary creations.
Fire and ice (the frozen water kind) both have their role, their place. They’re not in a battle, but in relationship.
ICE, on the other hand, has lost any claim to a legitimate role in our society. May they be held accountable for their crimes, and then melt away.
