Fire…visions red, orange, blue and purple. As the colors dance naked and unashamed in the moonlight, they hold me captive.  Sparks flicker. Flames devour the wood and kindling used for fuel. From these flames first puffs, then billows of grey smoke rise up and away into the stratosphere. I feel warm. I feel safe. I feel whole.  No matter the dark around me, by the fire circle, all is well.  I am entranced by this primordial spectacle that I can only compare to magic. What else could hold me transfixed for hours at a time?

For most of human history fire was imperative for survival.  She was a source of light, comfort, safety, nourishment (for cooking), purification, and growth.  Community gathered around her. Yet, if fire was not well kept or even abandoned she could quickly become a source of destruction and even death. What a bizarre thing that our modern society be removed from fire.  We seldom see it except seasonally be it for candles or fireworks.

In childhood I was lucky.  Every summer weekend my grandparents, aunts and uncles built a fire. They had a bit of land out in the country which allowed for such things, sometimes massive, sometimes small.  No matter the size each night we would sit under the stars forming a circle and hold fire at the center.  The coolness of the air behind and above us proved a stark contrast to spectacle in front of us.  Behind us were the fields and forests, crickets and lightening bugs, and probably other night creatures kept away by the light.  So different from what was afore us.  The center of the circle in a burn pit contained the wildness of flames devouring wood. The flames sparkled and danced.  The wood hissed, crackled, and moaned while emitting brightness and warmth. Such fond memories of safety, peace, and love.

There were three lessons I learned from these childhood fires.  
              1.) First do not get too close.  It isn’t only the flame or spark that can burn you; if too hot the heat of the fire itself can burn. The smoke can also cause injury if too much is inhaled or gets into your eyes.
                         2.) Second, certain fuels are best for fire and must be chosen with care.
                                3.) And third, there must be a firekeeper.  It is he who ignites, watches and tends the flames. He feeds it fuel, stacking and adjusting materials in order to for oxygen to reach the inner chambers of the pile. The first must not grow too large and the flames must remain within designated container.  My grandfather was always the firekeeper, though eventually he taught me tasks so that I too could understand and not fear this lifeforce.

Such a powerful element! But not one that resides outside of ourselves.  We all have a bit of fire in us.  In some faith-based systems fires resides in our hearts, our stomachs, our minds, and our reproductive organs.  Fire is our passion and our drive.  Just like the external fire, our internal flames have two sides; one that nourishes and grows, and one that destroys.  There are several fires, yet we see this most fervently in our anger.  This feeling is one aspect of the human experience with which many of my clients struggle.  And like fire it is one that fascinates me and I am entranced.

What comes up for you when you think of your anger?

Probably, you were taught to stifle or choke it out. You were taught that it is destructive and not to be displayed.  For you anger was cast as a wild beast, never to be acknowledged or tended but to be ignored, and shamed because it was offensive and hurtful.  You were told not to touch it, not to play with it or you would get burned. Meanwhile the grown-ups around you unleashed their anger like a pack of wolves further proving their that anger devastating, and unforgivable.

What we are not taught is that anger is a secondary feeling; there is always a primary feeling.  My training as a therapist revealed this, as did my clinical work and my personal reflection.  Our anger fire is fueled by one of three experiencing:

Hurt
            Shame
                            Fear

To understand our anger we must look at it.  Just like fire we cannot turn away, nor abandon it.  We must watch the flames to know the fuel and to know how to structure the anger so that the fire provides its intention with remaining in its container. We do this without ourselves being consumed or burned. Thich Nhat Hanh in his book anger (2001) suggests an intriguing notion: ask it why it has arrived.  I add to this to ask it for its intention.  If we know why it came, we know what feeds it and how it must be tended and healed.  We allow the fire to burn but we channel it into the most productive manifestation of its force.  We must not turn the anger fire inward nor outward.  It is there to perform a task after all. Anger and fire are beautiful forces, so powerful!  We simply must become the firekeeper in our own lives.