Combustion.
Notice: This post has nothing to do with pyromania, the subject of 'fire' is only as an observation to the human experience.
Two years ago, i was on a date (though i dont know if you'd define it clearly as a date, you'll understand in a moment). A female friend and i had agreed to meet at my house around 10PM and from there, trek down to Ocean Beach to just take a walk or to venture around and partake in the bon fires that frequent that area on a Friday night.
I remember being terribly afraid of this girl, since she and i had been friends on and off for three or so years, and i just didnt know how to act or present myself, but after an hour or so, things had calmed down and we were a lot easier around each other.
The most memorable thing about that night, and the point of this posting, were the bonfires. She and i had walked back and forth between various groups of people talking and saying hello to the people that greeted us, but at one point we noticed a massive inferno larger than any other i'd ever seen on the beach, where flames were rising twenty or thirty feet in the air, and the group had a massive pile of lumber and fuel a few yards back. Someone was even thoughtful enough to build wind barriers around the sitting area near this fire (for those of you who have never been to Ocean Beach, it gets very windy from around 9pm til about 1am).
After walking up and down the beach a few times, from The Park to the Seal Rocks, we noticed that the keepers of the inferno were leaving... and mind you, leaving their towering blaze still burning bring, and with plenty of fuel nearby to keep it going for a few more hours. So we took it upon ourselves to have a seat near this blaze and become it's new care takers. A few couples came by, said hello, much as we had to other fire keepers, and then went on their way, but for the most part she and i had a good interrupted period of time to just talk and to get to know each other again.
Now, to my point... i remember sitting next to this fire... and i remember the flames being hypnotizing. There is something primal, something basic, something instinctive about this setting. Our ancestors would hunt during the daylight hours, but at dusk, and after dark, they would all gather around similar settings to tell their tales, to weave their myths, to inspire each other's imaginations.
i grew up in the Boy Scouts, camping at least once a month from ages six to sixteen, in all sorts of weather and climate, from snow and ice, to humid and muggy, to hot and dry. Always we would gather around the flames to talk, to exchange information, to tell stories, to become inspired and filled with a warmth that cannot be explained.
i cannot explain why i'm writing about this today... perhaps because i'm thinking back to moments of my life that actually mean something to me, that help define who i am, or perhaps because i'm longing for similar moments, because i feel that i'm missing something, that i'm lacking some experiences that at this point, are few and far between.
-Wm.
Notice: This post has nothing to do with pyromania, the subject of 'fire' is only as an observation to the human experience.
Two years ago, i was on a date (though i dont know if you'd define it clearly as a date, you'll understand in a moment). A female friend and i had agreed to meet at my house around 10PM and from there, trek down to Ocean Beach to just take a walk or to venture around and partake in the bon fires that frequent that area on a Friday night.
I remember being terribly afraid of this girl, since she and i had been friends on and off for three or so years, and i just didnt know how to act or present myself, but after an hour or so, things had calmed down and we were a lot easier around each other.
The most memorable thing about that night, and the point of this posting, were the bonfires. She and i had walked back and forth between various groups of people talking and saying hello to the people that greeted us, but at one point we noticed a massive inferno larger than any other i'd ever seen on the beach, where flames were rising twenty or thirty feet in the air, and the group had a massive pile of lumber and fuel a few yards back. Someone was even thoughtful enough to build wind barriers around the sitting area near this fire (for those of you who have never been to Ocean Beach, it gets very windy from around 9pm til about 1am).
After walking up and down the beach a few times, from The Park to the Seal Rocks, we noticed that the keepers of the inferno were leaving... and mind you, leaving their towering blaze still burning bring, and with plenty of fuel nearby to keep it going for a few more hours. So we took it upon ourselves to have a seat near this blaze and become it's new care takers. A few couples came by, said hello, much as we had to other fire keepers, and then went on their way, but for the most part she and i had a good interrupted period of time to just talk and to get to know each other again.
Now, to my point... i remember sitting next to this fire... and i remember the flames being hypnotizing. There is something primal, something basic, something instinctive about this setting. Our ancestors would hunt during the daylight hours, but at dusk, and after dark, they would all gather around similar settings to tell their tales, to weave their myths, to inspire each other's imaginations.
i grew up in the Boy Scouts, camping at least once a month from ages six to sixteen, in all sorts of weather and climate, from snow and ice, to humid and muggy, to hot and dry. Always we would gather around the flames to talk, to exchange information, to tell stories, to become inspired and filled with a warmth that cannot be explained.
i cannot explain why i'm writing about this today... perhaps because i'm thinking back to moments of my life that actually mean something to me, that help define who i am, or perhaps because i'm longing for similar moments, because i feel that i'm missing something, that i'm lacking some experiences that at this point, are few and far between.
-Wm.