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Fires, Adirondack Chairs and the Essence of Peace

Listen. Can I share something with you all? Can I tell you something for real? I really love fires man! Not in a weirdo pyromaniac kind of way you understand, but in a simple hanging out around a fire pit kind of way. I love the sound burning wood makes. The crackle and popping and gentle rhythmic sway of the airwaves. I love the colours that dance and flicker and lick the air. I love the warmth it spreads. Not only externally but internally as well.

I have had a fire pit in my backyard ever since I can remember and will till I can’t no more.

Here’s what I want to say...don't fires take you somewhere? I mean, outside your usual existence? Fires are prehistoric, trippy and tribal. For me they are absolutely mesmerizing! Fire is survival; warmth, food, it gives us life…but the actual spirit of the fire is unexplainable! How many lies and best-buddy tales have you told around a fire? How low has your blood pressure sunk around a fire? I have watched the fire’s flames burning for hours on end simmering, changing colour, speaking directly to me in those hissy wet wood whispers. I’ve lost entire evenings while staring into flames and eventually those embers and dreaming my dreams in my favorite Adirondack chair.

Oh man, my chair! I don’t mean to swing way off course here, but I have to ask you? Are you really attached to anything? I mean REALLY attached to something? I'm not talking about your kids or your family or anything that straight forward. PA-Leeeease - a basic possession. A good ole' materialistic possession? My Adirondack chair is my guilty pleasure. My parents gave it to me many years ago and it has seen many a fire; whether that has been in the city or back on the beach. It has been attached, welded-like, to my butt from Kitchener to Kincardine and back again. I finally stained the ole girl after a couple years of owning it and now even that dark stain is wearing mighty thin. A couple of the seat-boards have snapped from constant use and I have replaced them with old apple basket slats. Good as new, or at least as new as I want it to be. I really dig my old chair and the memories it sparks.

Oh man, good stuff! Sitting around a beautiful blaze while in my trusted Adirondack chair. That old chair is holding up just fine, thank-you friends; but when the inevitable day comes that it can no longer be nailed, glued, rebuilt….well, I’ll gently put her to rest in one of those great big fires in my backyard and ease her in just so, and we’ll all raise our glass as she warms our toes one last time.

Fires and chairs - who'd a thunk they could mean so much huh!

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Tags: Artoholic, Blog, Fire, Peace, Pits, Searching, Soul, The, Wandering, Writing

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