Watching fire, I see a channel, it’s a breathing entity — while there is wind, the fire inhales and there is a kind of beautiful translation. I can’t take my eyes off of the smolder, the coals, the roaring

Anything that has a color, becomes a new color — which could be the translation to black. But transformation is variable — to one, there is black, to another — sulphured yellow; another, a raven black purple — a crystalline blue, or an orange powdering. Everything burns. Then it becomes something new — that might take it back to the center of the earth — a concretization that comes from the beginning, goes to the end, and comes back to the beginning, yet a gain.

But in the poetry of fire there is a migration. That could be pain, it could be passion, it could be translation. But it is a passing through — “coming through fire,” metaphorically, is phoenix rising — the fire changes, and surely, in anything, everything is changed by fire.

What I think about fire is the nature of passionate engagement — which could be, like anything, the beginning and the end — a blaze of passion that is so attuned, so engaged, so focused — it, like fire, sees nothing but that commitment.

A person, a mind, a soul, the metaphor of channeled passion — on fire.
The Fire Hose.

Channeling fire, it soars up, moves over things, it has speed and resilience — it can be nearly unstoppable. I think about the passion of the work — the act.

You are either on fire, or you are out.

tim | nyc
Girvin Cloudmind
The Girvin love of fire |