on fire and under water
a path forward
We burned so many fires in our metal fire pit that the thing finally gave up and collapsed right there in it’s center. The middle of the metal floor just dissolved and as Scotty dragged the thing away from the outdoor kitchen, it left a long, thick trail of white ash in the hard packed clay between the yurt and the kitchen.
Our two year old daughter, Amara, has taken a liking to ash lately. As you walk around the outdoor kitchen, you’ll see little piles of ash on a stump or ground, on top of the wood stove, with tiny little finger prints and hand prints swirling throughout.
In the yurt she likes to scrape the white ash out of the wood stove with a stick and pile it up on the floor, where she then rubs it all over herself, the rugs, the floor, our small dog Prince, the walls.
The other day she was prancing back to the yurt like a wild hyena, sky clad in the brilliant golden slant of October light, and her feet were completely white, covered in ash. I had to do a double take to make sure she wasn’t wearing socks, as the white ash only went to about her ankles. She then pranced into the yurt, leaving tiny white footprints all over everything.
There is a tribal people in West Africa, called the Dagara people of Burkina Faso, whose practices and rituals have been predominantly brought to the US by diviner and Elder Malidoma Somé (January 30, 1956 - December 9, 2021). Within their culture, they recognize and practice the living respect for each of the five elements: earth, water, fire, nature and mineral.
Each element is associated with many things, including two numbers, and in this way, we can find out which element is most predominant in each of us, based on the last number of the year of your birth.
For example, if you were born in 1978, your number is 8, the last number of that year. You can learn more here.
In this tradition, Amara is a fire person, as she was born in 2022. From Kelsy Kuehl’s website:
“In Dagara, fire is associated with the Ancestors and the Spirit World. Fire is seen as the doorway to the Ancestral realms and the connecting rod between the seen and unseen. Fire people are often highly instinctive and are vivid dreamers. Our dreams are believed to be direct messages sent to us by the Other World and should always be taken seriously.
Fire people are considered the conduits through which the Ancestors pass on information through intuition, dreams and perceptions. Because a fire person is usually deeply connected to both worlds they sometimes struggle to feel like they belong or fit in.”
So I think of this as I watch my child poke sticks into the fire and pull them out flaming and smoking, or as she scoops up cold ash from the fire place and pours it all over the dogs, or cats, or clean laundry. This fascination with each aspect of fire, the gathering of sticks, the building, the burning, the heat, the ashes. It is her first teacher.
And then I think about our world, being on fire, under water and at war.
And I think about our ancestors, growing with each passing day.
And I think about the healing power of fire and ash, mud and stone and autumn’s changing leaves. The potential of spring.
I think about surviving.
I think about fire.
I remember how I was recently told, sitting around the not-yet-broken fire pit outside our kitchen, that the fire was the “original shaman”; the original healer, mystic, sage; the original seer. The one we consult in times of uncertainty, in times of dis-ease.
In Huichol culture, the fire is referred to as Grandfather Fire, or by the name of Tatewari, who is the god of fire, time and wisdom. He is the oldest of the gods and associated with spiritual purification, transformation and guidance.
((There is a little boy pressing his nose against the window of the library, looking at me and all these pretty Huichol pictures I am looking at on the internet. He giggles as I try to touch his nose through the glass.))
❤️
Back to the fire.
In my ever deepening/changing/expanding/meandering love affair with the man in the video above, we have discovered a new “relationship tool”. It’s not suited for modern man, but it is most needed by him. In moments of conflict, heated, fiery, no-end-in-sight conflict, we pause. We build a fire. We honor all that our relationship is and holds, we invoke our community, and then, from that place, we speak to one another.
We invoke our community because it has become so apparent to us how much a couple (family) actually needs community to navigate the hard places, thrive in the good seasons and remember where it is we have come from.
This whole nuclear family BS is one of the worst things humanity has ever tried (all things nuclear maybe). It fails us again and again and again. It is not the way nature intended human flourishing, and it is so incredibly destructive for everyone involved. We see it in our own experience and the experience of so. many. young families we know. It’s crazy making, pure and simple. (End rant)
And there’s a better way, illuminated (not so metaphorically) by the simplicity of building a fire. The way it pulls community together and warms our bellies.
It’s like we have to re-weave the whole thing. Pulling from the future, pulling from the past, looking to nature, listening to the fire.
Wanting the best for our children.
Opening to the raw, transformative moulting that is happening on Earth right now.
Saying yes.
Saying no.
Rekindling the fire.
Running through the ash.
Thank you for reading this edition of Wild Leaf. It is always a treat to pull the threads of my life together in a way that seems to make sense. Thank you for reading. Thank you for subscribing. Thank you for commenting.
May these fires light up the one in your heart.
Until next time,
Leah Bee
Thank you! I didn't know of this elemental system until reading this. I share the fire with Amara. In astrology, I am lacking fire....which seemed strange since I am kind of fiery! And yes, the Fire and Water are making themselves known very loudly right now. I am writing about that, too. Stay tuned!