Listen to The Stoke
“The fire is the main comfort of camp, whether in summer or winter.”
Sometimes, all you need is a fire.
The other day I went to the doctor for a routine check-up. The nurse and I chit-chatted about COVID and the crazy year we like to call 2020.
I told her about the bonfires we like to have in our cul-de-sac and the thought of it made her so happy.
“That’s so lovely,” she said. “I think we’re going to do the same thing with our cul-de-sac on Thanksgiving.”
Then, she went on to explain how if COVID has done anything positive for our society, it’s brought neighbours closer. She told of how her neighbours are meeting up like never before, sending notes, and doing projects together.
Of course, I nodded and agreed with everything she said.
Bonfires are like a balm to the soul. If I’m having a downer of a week, a fire under late autumn skies will lift me up quicker than almost anything.
John Muir said, "The glories of a mountain campfire are far greater than may be guessed."
The bonfire draws you out of yourself. It gets you a little uncomfortable. It forces you to split wood and work to build the foundation of something that will burn and give warmth and pleasure. It gets you into the cold but places you within the warmth of good company. It’s like a magic enchantment for shattering your defenses—you almost feel compelled to share your heart.
“But Tim,” you say, “surely you can’t be seriously admonishing us to go outside, sit in the cold with people we hardly know—or at least know well enough to share the deepest part of ourselves—and strike up random conversations in the hopes that it will brighten our spirits. I mean, doesn’t that sound a bit pedantic—as if you’re making to great of a cerebral point about something so droll as the building of and sitting around burning wood.”
“Ah yes,” I reply. “I say, dear friend, on this occasion I don’t see your point whatsoever. But one thing you do get right, I suppose, is the value of striking up random conversations. Do you remember, when we were children, how talking about everything and anything on deep levels came naturally to us? Don’t you recall how easy it was to befriend another child? It was a simple as asking them if they wanted to be your friend. I do believe the bonfire ring possesses this kind of wonderful magic.”
I think about it often: when did we get so old and stodgy; when did we get so house-bound, unable to sit in the dirt with friends and share the goodness of something like.
If you want to turn the cold months of the COVID year into a blessing for yourself and for others. Build a fire ring in the backyard. Buy one at Lowes. Find some rocks in the woods and make a circle out of them. Gather some wood—you can even buy wood at the grocery store! Grab some kindling, build a fire, and invite your neighbours to sit with you in the cold. And then watch the fire ring do its magic.
Stay stoked my friends!
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