Fire
- Aug 2, 2013
- 3 min read
I had been staying on a sugar cane farm in South Africa for several months before I actually saw a cane fire. Mostly because they tended to be lit early in the morning, when I tended to be in bed. When I did manage to drag myself out of bed for my first cane fire, I was overwhelmed.
During the harvesting season, the farmers would burn patches of the cane to get rid of the extra bits (the green and dry leaves), to make it easier to harvest.
The farmer would light the fire, starting with just a couple of matches, around the edges of the section and within a matter of minutes, the fire would take off, with the flames racing to the centre of the section to fight for oxygen. The first time I watched a fire, it was from the top of the water tanker (a key component for controlling the fire!) I remember the feeling of awe as the heat from the closest flames flooded over my previously freezing skin. What started as a small crackle echoing in the chilly night air, quickly became the sound of hundreds of fireworks giving off oppressive heat. The line of fire travelled quickly through the section, forming a barrier between the burnt and the yet to be burnt. It made a difference: from what was there before to what was left. Within such a short period of time, the section of cane had been transformed from leafy, green, living plants to a scorched, brown expanse. And it was ready. From a field full of detail and substance, it was broken down into something that could be harvested. I've always been a little bit scared of fire. Maybe that came from seeing the scars of many of the farmers. The power of the fire scares me, its ability to bring change, the speed at which it spreads.
But, how I want to be like it.
Not just my writing, but in my life.
Each of us has something in us that has the power to change. Each and every one of us.
For me, I think it's the ability to use my experiences to help and heal and encourage and grow people. And I don't want to keep it to myself; I want to stand up and light that fire. I want it to be visible for miles around. I want to take what I have and I want it to spread. I want to form a line between the impacted and the yet to be impacted. And I want that line to move as if it is desperately chasing oxygen.
What do you have? What is the power in you? How can you impact the world, starting with those closest to you? This is not just for some of us, it's for all of us. But how far you want your fire to spread is up to you.
I had been staying on a sugar cane farm in South Africa for several months before I actually saw a cane fire. Mostly because they tended to be lit early in the morning, when I tended to be in bed. When I did manage to drag myself out of bed for my first cane fire, I was overwhelmed.
During the harvesting season, the farmers would burn patches of the cane to get rid of the extra bits (the green and dry leaves), to make it easier to harvest.
The farmer would light the fire, starting with just a couple of matches, around the edges of the section and within a matter of minutes, the fire would take off, with the flames racing to the centre of the section to fight for oxygen. The first time I watched a fire, it was from the top of the water tanker (a key component for controlling the fire!) I remember the feeling of awe as the heat from the closest flames flooded over my previously freezing skin. What started as a small crackle echoing in the chilly night air, quickly became the sound of hundreds of fireworks giving off oppressive heat. The line of fire travelled quickly through the section, forming a barrier between the burnt and the yet to be burnt. It made a difference: from what was there before to what was left. Within such a short period of time, the section of cane had been transformed from leafy, green, living plants to a scorched, brown expanse. And it was ready. From a field full of detail and substance, it was broken down into something that could be harvested. I've always been a little bit scared of fire. Maybe that came from seeing the scars of many of the farmers. The power of the fire scares me, its ability to bring change, the speed at which it spreads.
But, how I want to be like it.
Not just my writing, but in my life.
Each of us has something in us that has the power to change. Each and every one of us.
For me, I think it's the ability to use my experiences to help and heal and encourage and grow people. And I don't want to keep it to myself; I want to stand up and light that fire. I want it to be visible for miles around. I want to take what I have and I want it to spread. I want to form a line between the impacted and the yet to be impacted. And I want that line to move as if it is desperately chasing oxygen.
What do you have? What is the power in you? How can you impact the world, starting with those closest to you? This is not just for some of us, it's for all of us. But how far you want your fire to spread is up to you.
Comments