the little log that was afraid to burn

transformation ~ burning the narrative of scarcity ~ reverent Fear of the Unknown

One night I sat before a fire and watched as a log rolled to the edge of the pit, sitting just beyond the reach of the flames. 

I wondered “what are you feeling little log?” “Why do you shrink from the fire?”

As you watch your fellow logs burn, break and dissolve into ash, flames flash in your petrified eyes. You will the fire not to find you. Clinging to your wood with a concreted control, resigning to sitting in an uncomfortable heat, a lukewarm discomfort.

Never burning, so never changing. Denying the

transformation, so sitting in stagnation. Frustration. Your potential, your pattern, crying out for flames to free it from material calcification.

You see death in the flames and death it is. Yet death is not the antithesis to life, a false duality fed by a learnt scarcity that sits as uncomfortably in an ecology of abundance as you do watching the fire from your damned ‘safety’ instead alchemising into your power.

It is this scarcity that fuels the fear. It fills your thoughts with “the log is all I am” “there is no more”. If I burn what will I be? Who will I be? Will I be at all? If I do this work, if I face this pain, if I shed this story, if I dare to untangle the controls that my survival feels life lined to? 

You are dodging death to avoid facing a feeling that there is more aliveness for you. A snake refusing to shed, tighter and tighter, until it’s skin no longer fits the being. The being-ness suffocating in a shell not fit to serve its fullness any more. 

The scarcity feeds on the forgetting that you have never been just log. Always a flowing energy, coalescing, momentarily masquerading as finite form. Beneath the scared ego of the log you can feel the remembering of seed, tree and moss. You have died to infinite forms and been reborn. Density is a dance, and you have many more movements to move through. 

This death you shrink away from is no determinism. It is an ending, a culmination of complexity of all before, burning into simple evolving beginnings. The flames will burn only what no longer serves the being within, not the snake, the skin. 

As the Caterpillar sheds its head before sinking into the cocoon, will you lose your mind and burn into possibility? Let an oceanic remembering swell within you and the moving of the sea transform scared to sacred. You realise what you fear is Fear. An omnipresent in the Unknown, the place where life lives alive. For you cannot know what aliveness will emerge amongst the ashes, what seeds are locked in your log waiting for the germinating burning to grow. True experience forever teasing the tightrope of understanding. 

Full of Fear yet no longer frightened, pull yourself into a fire-y embrace. It is a dark womb of life waiting to channel you through the pin point, big enough only for your pattern to pass. The unknowing breathing newness into form. Mind and matter laying their lives down on the altar of death as a gift to ever expanding life.

In the space between burning and birthing, feel the buzzing excitement of nothingness. Suspended in awe, you take your first breath as a new form. For a fleeting moment you taste the ever being Energy on your tongue, within and without material matter, a feeling of energy invincibility.

Let go, and realise you are still here. To not only survive what you thought would kill you, but to feel ever more deeply yourself.