The first time I tapped the transformative power of fire was to banish disbelief, to make real the fact that I had been jilted, to begin the progression from wounded rage to acceptance to ultimate relief.
I was in my early 30s and I’d never been dumped. After my father’s departure during my girlhood, I had resolved always to be the leaver, never again the left behind.
But as these things happen, eventually it was my turn. And I did not take it well. I stormed; I didn’t sleep; I obsessed over thoughts of vengeance.
I flew to San Francisco to seek the solace of the woman who had been a spiritual mentor of sorts since I met her at 24. She had seen me through my coming out and my first big jobs. Later, her last act before disappearing from my life would be guiding me through my father’s death.
I was in my early 30s and I’d never been dumped. After my father’s departure during my girlhood, I had resolved always to be the leaver, never again the left behind.
But as these things happen, eventually it was my turn. And I did not take it well. I stormed; I didn’t sleep; I obsessed over thoughts of vengeance.
I flew to San Francisco to seek the solace of the woman who had been a spiritual mentor of sorts since I met her at 24. She had seen me through my coming out and my first big jobs. Later, her last act before disappearing from my life would be guiding me through my father’s death.
Sermon on the Mount
That day in San Francisco still stands as one of my clear coming-of-age, coming-to-terms, getting-a-grip moments in life. We sat on the cliffside above the bay, in a spot we later referred to as the Sermon on the Mount, and she helped me to face the reality I was still struggling against.
She had me write down on slips of paper all the beliefs echoing in my head, all the protestations. And then we burned them. We watched them spark, catch, flame, fizzle, and die. As the ash settled into the ground, so did I. The dam of denial and distress broke, releasing the sadness and honest fears that would form my new start.
I repeated the ritual some years later in my farewell ceremony for my father. Since then, I’ve discovered a magical resource for engaging the regenerative power of fire: Flying Wish Papers.
Created by Julia Lambie of Hux Creative in Beaverton, Oregon, these little papers are a perfect way to focus whatever it is that needs to be released, transformed, or wished into being. I’ve used them in nearly a dozen ceremonies, from birthdays and baby showers to memorials and transition support.
She had me write down on slips of paper all the beliefs echoing in my head, all the protestations. And then we burned them. We watched them spark, catch, flame, fizzle, and die. As the ash settled into the ground, so did I. The dam of denial and distress broke, releasing the sadness and honest fears that would form my new start.
I repeated the ritual some years later in my farewell ceremony for my father. Since then, I’ve discovered a magical resource for engaging the regenerative power of fire: Flying Wish Papers.
Created by Julia Lambie of Hux Creative in Beaverton, Oregon, these little papers are a perfect way to focus whatever it is that needs to be released, transformed, or wished into being. I’ve used them in nearly a dozen ceremonies, from birthdays and baby showers to memorials and transition support.
63 years ago today a girl child came into the world who would grow to become one of the most significant influences on my life. I don’t know where she is today, or why we aren’t in touch, but I remain grateful for the enduring lessons she taught me in the 14 years we shared. I light a wish paper for her today.
"Write it. Light it. Watch it fly."
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