The Warrior in me, I thought had died. I was tired of fighting for a cause of any kind. I was tired of picking up my sword to fight, so as I entered 2015, I never expected for the warrior in me to be reborn, and to be reborn of fire.
My family loves fire, not the destructive kind but bonfires and fires for heat. We have been known to build a huge bonfire on a hot August night and love every moment of it. Ma and Da made sure we knew all the rules of such fires because the last thing any of us wanted was a fire out of control.
I have at least one barrel where I live in rural South Carolina that my nephew Daniel shot holes in so that the right amount of air could help build a fire. Such fires are controlled and those are the fires I like the most. A fire uncontrolled like a wildfire or a rage in one's soul destroys things like animals, trees, and people or anything in their path of destruction. There is nothing beautiful about an uncontrolled fire, but a controlled fire creates beauty and useful items. The bonfires that my family members have built over the years has created a deep bond between us of moments that made us as family who we are. It is the beauty of such a fire that bonded us in love.
As a child I learned of how destructive and damaging fire could be. I have a rock in my possession made from the blood and fluids from a man who burned to death in the north woods of our country back in the early 1950s. He was a young man working on clearing some limbs when his crane hit an electrical power line and he burned to death. Da being the curious person that he was saw the fluids slowly turn into this purple glass like formation with a sandy concrete like enclosure wrapped around it. I have often held that rock and wonder over the man whose life's blood made it. It also made me wonder about the beauty of glass. Because in those days there when they were hours from even a phone, there had been no chance in saving that young man.
But in its controlled forms fire creates like the fire used in glassblowing, pottery making and in blacksmithing. I love each of these, and they all have fascinated me since childhood. Living in the mountains brought me to each of these crafts, and thru them I learned another aspect of fire.
I grew up western North Carolina and eastern Tennessee. We had wonderful field trips when I lived in East Tennessee (and for those who do not know- there are three states in Tennessee, East, Middle and West). Almost every year we traveled to Pigeon Forge Pottery. There we watched a master potter make a vase. He took a lump of grey brown clay and began by spinning a wheel and keeping his hands and clay wet molded it into that vase in a matter of minutes. The vase was put to dry out, before it went onto the next stage. Along the way that simple vase would be glazed before going into the kiln to be fired into the thing of beauty it would become. Now the kilns are ovens with controlled heat because too hot and the vase would not be strong and break easily and too cool and it would not harden into a vase that could be used. In olden days they would be outside and the heat of the fire had to be closely watched and controlled. Bringing to life usually the colors of the clay that laid hidden until the heat brought them to forefront. The fire was used to create beautiful and useful items.
When we moved to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, we had a neighbor, Della Pickle and she and her husband Chock Pickle were two of the most dear people of my childhood. Della worked in the Sevier County Library System, and she brought to me books, wonderful books. When the books were being discarded, she brought a box home for me to choose whatever book I wanted. I still have many of these hard cover books. They are my treasures for the joy they have brought to me but also a reminder of Della Pickle. One book I got was about an indentured servant to colonies. His indenture was bought by a glassmaker and from this book I learned about those who create glass from fire. I also learned from craft men in the area how glass was blown. It was always a treat to watch them take this hot thick liquid and turn into a vase or a trinket. Stain glass windows, made of this hot liquid born of fire, is broken pieces of glass- most often controlled by the crafts man or woman who create a thing of beauty in which light may pass. I love that from all that brokenness beauty is created.
Blacksmithing is an art also. I learned once that Pigeon Forge got its name for the Pigeon River named for the Passenger Pigeons that once existed and now are extinct, and for the blacksmith forge that once was the center of the colonial town. If you listen to the language of the natives in days gone by they rarely said Pigeon Forge but instead say, "I am going to the Forge." A lingering of language when they actually did go to the forge for various reasons. A blacksmith was important to have in a community. They mended wagon wheels. They made shoes for horses. They made the pots and pans needed for the cooks and they repaired them when they were damaged because back then you did not throw out things- you fixed them. They also in farther back times made the weapons that a warrior used. The Best were made of the finest steel. Sharp, strong and shining, a good sword should always be those things. We had a friend Mr. Bach who was an artist, and he used his skills with fire to make lovely things such as a donkey made of steel. I remember him telling me how he had to batter each piece while it was red hot into the shape that he wanted it. This donkey was a thing of beauty. I called him "Ed". He was in a place of honor at the front of their candle shop. Again I learned that thru the use of fire a thing of beauty could be born but it had to be controlled for uncontrolled fire is destructive.
In 2014 I had gone thru a destructive fire in my soul and lost my footing due to it. I went into 2015 expecting more of the same, but I had forgot the words of one of my favorite hymns "How firm a Foundation." This particular verse is left out of many modern hymnals. I love this song because it is one hymn in which it is God speaking to us as believers. This verse is:
"When through Fiery Trials thy pathways shall lie,
My Grace, all sufficient shall be thy supply.
The Flame shall not hurt thee, I only design
Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine."
Dross is mineral wastes or rubbish, something to be tossed away. From this pathway thru fiery trials I walked in 2014 and 2015. In 2014 I forgot that Grace would provide for me what was needed. I forgot that to become more beautiful in my soul I had to let go of the dross in my life instead of clinging to it. I needed to be reborn of fire, and I was. First I had to deal with some medical issues. I hate medical issues. I had to face that I do keep too much clutter in my life and that living simply means letting go in little ways. Slowly out of this fire the warrior in me was reborn, and though that warrior will always battle within me with that part which wants to seek peace. I just live much better when I face life as a warrior.
At the close of 2015, I am thankful for the journey I made over the past two years. It has been like a journey up a steep mountain and then you come to a place and you realize that there is light and the summit is still ahead of you but now you know you can make it.
I have no idea what 2016 will bring me. I know that by the end of the year I hope I have simplified my life in many ways. I hope that I have another poem published and I finish my novel. I hope I have seen many of my friends and more often. I hope that I will continue to come to a deeper understanding life and faith and things in general. I know that I will find joy all along the way. I know that I will be blessed by Grace. I know that I am loved. With those three things, I know that 2016 will be a good year.