I am struck today by these words from the book: “If one is ever lost, the first thing to do is build a fire for companionship. Warmth is secondary.”
I know what she means by "lost" and yet, I think of how often I come to fire for comfort. I've been making fires in the fireplace, and will make another today. For me, lighting a fire is prayer. I rejoice in the dance of flame.
I've been pruning plants. Yesterday I focused on a camellia. It sits in a pot so I can move it, but the foliage had become so dense that it was like a wall, blocking anything behind it. I thought that's what I wanted, a privacy screen, but then, yesterday, I decided to remove a few inner, criss-crossing branches, and soon I removed even more. Now, I can see and appreciate the curving branches that are light in form. I can see through to what is behind.
I think these last few weeks have been a pruning for me, a removal of what is unnecessary, so i can better balance, and appreciate. Sometimes I hunker in an oddly perceived idea of protection, and sometimes that is needed, and other times, my pruning shears emerge, with a request for guidance in knowing what and where to cut.
There is snow in the Midwest, and possible rain here. We love our homes, each of us. We make a home, and as the weather changes, so, too, do we look for where to open and close. We, too, are buds. We, too, are flame.