| Fire Walker |
Published in the Houston Press and The Indigo Sun Magazine
I circled the fire with a tambourine in my hand, striking the instrument on my thigh in
time with the chant, "My body does whatever it takes to protect itself." I gazed into
the glowing red and orange eyes of the twelve foot by four foot bed of coals and
watched a coating of white ash begin to form. The fire pit looked back, studying me
with its many eyes. "Will you walk tonight?" it silently asked. Would I cast aside
caution and logic and make a tremendous leap of faith with a few small steps on a
1200 degree bed of coals?
The chant changed to "I am the light, I am the love," and then swelled around me with
"The fire and I are one," and I thought about how I came to be standing here on the
edge of eternity, a 42-year old woman, questioning the very nature of reality.
It was only a few weeks ago as I entered the Chapel of Prayer with fifty or so people
to listen to a Hindu Guru tell traditional Indian parables, that I met Charmaine McGhie
and Tore Fossum. We were seated next to each other and connected so quickly and
intensely that they invited me to a New Year's Eve Party and Firewalk.
I was intrigued. I had seen firewalking on TV and read about it in National Geographic,
but never had I witnessed it in person. Meanwhile, they gave me a book called
"Firewalk" by Jonathon Seinfeld which I read with interest. It talked about firewalking
as an empowerment tool and a subcultural movement in the U.S. since the 1970s. The
U.S. has more firewalkers than the rest of the world put together. I couldn't believe it!
How could I have missed it? I had done every "new age" experience I had
encountered. How could such a phenomenon have slipped by me? My excitement
grew as the days passed.
The book helped keep me occupied and gave me a lot to think about. It told stories of
firewalking in almost every culture. It quoted scriptures about firewalking and
discussed the unsatisfactory research that has been done. I was primed for the
experience - to watch the experience, at least.
I arrived early at the suburban house in a nice Friendswood, Texas neighborhood. Not
really where you'd expect to see a firewalk, a Quaker founded town. The preparations
looked like any other New Year's Eve party. Guests arrived with covered dishes, and
someone played piano - 50s hits for a sing along. However, no alcohol was present.
At about 9:00 p.m. everyone gathered in the back yard. A cool front was moving
through, and the air was chilling nicely, a good night for a bonfire. The grass was
soaked with a hose as a safety precaution to keep the fire in control, and, once the fire
inspectors gave us the go ahead, the evening began.
We each took turns carrying logs to build the fire. We were instructed to think of the
logs like children, and focus loving attention on them. A firewalking instructor took the
logs from us and built an impressive "boy scout" style tepee-shaped structure that
would become a roaring fire using about a half cord of wood. We took turns stuffing
newspaper in the cracks, and the fire was lit with great ceremony. A blaze reached
skyward as a word of thanks and protection was intoned by a lady wearing a long full
skirt. Surely that skirt was not a good thing to wear when walking on fire. When the
fire was blazing violet and gold, we went to the patio to try out some other
phenomenal activities. It would be two to three hours before the coals were ready.
Someone asked if we wanted to play the "rebar game" and a chorus of assent rang
out. I had no idea what that meant. Rebars are 3/4 inch diameter x 6 foot long steel
bars used to reinforce concrete. Two people stand face to face six feet apart and a
rebar is suspended between them by placing the tip of the metal rod in the hollow of
their throats. The two people are told to focus their energy and see the rod bending.
When both of them feel focused, they walk toward each other. The rod could either
pierce your throat, cut off your breathing, or it could bend. Pretty scary. However, all of
them bent. There were no tracheotomies. It is impossible to use force to bend the rod
in this position as it causes tremendous pain. I know through personal experience. But
when focusing properly, the rod just sort of melts, and you are suddenly catching your
partner in your arms as you fall toward each other laughing at the unexpected
success. Yes! I did it!
Next, we broke boards like so many karate experts. Only we weren't. One inch thick
by twenty-four inch wide pine boards set on bricks. When focused, the board almost
breaks itself. That was a tremendous energy rush for me. I didn't know I could do that.
I felt like the power rangers, "I have the power!"
Finally, the coals were ready. We returned to the back yard. The fire was so hot, it was
difficult to stand close to it for more than a few minutes. The coals were raked out
smooth, and the temperature was measured at 1200 degrees. How could we hope to
walk on this? It was too preposterous. I've seen steaks seared on lower
temperatures. I was suddenly glad I'd only come to watch.
We circled the fire pit and chanted. No one wanted to be first. I wondered if anyone
would find the courage. Suddenly Charmaine was at the top of the pit, quietly
chanting, and focusing on the far end of the coals. Then it happened. She stepped
onto the coals and kept walking, slowly, not rushing, the full twelve feet. As she
stepped off, a cheer went up, and she went around and repeated it. She was followed
by Tore and another, and another. A line of people followed, and not one injury. The
lady in the long, full skirt walked eight times, and the fabric did not catch fire. Everyone
had walked, except me and one other person. But, I had only come to watch anyway.
Some people walked slowly, some people ran, some people danced. One person
cartwheeled through the coals, and then he did the most amazing thing. He stepped
onto the coals and stood there in one place, reached down and lifted up a handful of
coals and threw them into the air. Then he quietly walked off the fire pit - unharmed.
This went on for a couple of hours. It was like a dream. My mind had no place to file
this scene. Could I do it too? Did I have enough faith and concentration? I didn't know.
I did not feel afraid. But I also did not feel compelled to walk. Even so, I had removed
my shoes and socks. Was that significant?
Then a voice was calling out "Last call. It's time to go in and dance." Charmaine
stepped up to the pit again, and this time I stepped out beside her and took her hand.
We looked briefly at each other. She squeezed my hand, and I began to walk. We
moved together, not too fast, casually.
The coals crunched under my feet, and I felt like I was in a cool tunnel of air. I couldn't
feel any on the heat I had flinched at as I raked the coals. I was about to step off the
pit, already at the other end. I did it! I had actually walked on 1200 degree coals, and
my feet were intact - not even a blister. Now everyone was cheering for ME! I knew I
was about to begin rethinking reality.
There was no other choice. =0=
I circled the fire with a tambourine in my hand, striking the instrument on my thigh in
time with the chant, "My body does whatever it takes to protect itself." I gazed into
the glowing red and orange eyes of the twelve foot by four foot bed of coals and
watched a coating of white ash begin to form. The fire pit looked back, studying me
with its many eyes. "Will you walk tonight?" it silently asked. Would I cast aside
caution and logic and make a tremendous leap of faith with a few small steps on a
1200 degree bed of coals?
The chant changed to "I am the light, I am the love," and then swelled around me with
"The fire and I are one," and I thought about how I came to be standing here on the
edge of eternity, a 42-year old woman, questioning the very nature of reality.
It was only a few weeks ago as I entered the Chapel of Prayer with fifty or so people
to listen to a Hindu Guru tell traditional Indian parables, that I met Charmaine McGhie
and Tore Fossum. We were seated next to each other and connected so quickly and
intensely that they invited me to a New Year's Eve Party and Firewalk.
I was intrigued. I had seen firewalking on TV and read about it in National Geographic,
but never had I witnessed it in person. Meanwhile, they gave me a book called
"Firewalk" by Jonathon Seinfeld which I read with interest. It talked about firewalking
as an empowerment tool and a subcultural movement in the U.S. since the 1970s. The
U.S. has more firewalkers than the rest of the world put together. I couldn't believe it!
How could I have missed it? I had done every "new age" experience I had
encountered. How could such a phenomenon have slipped by me? My excitement
grew as the days passed.
The book helped keep me occupied and gave me a lot to think about. It told stories of
firewalking in almost every culture. It quoted scriptures about firewalking and
discussed the unsatisfactory research that has been done. I was primed for the
experience - to watch the experience, at least.
I arrived early at the suburban house in a nice Friendswood, Texas neighborhood. Not
really where you'd expect to see a firewalk, a Quaker founded town. The preparations
looked like any other New Year's Eve party. Guests arrived with covered dishes, and
someone played piano - 50s hits for a sing along. However, no alcohol was present.
At about 9:00 p.m. everyone gathered in the back yard. A cool front was moving
through, and the air was chilling nicely, a good night for a bonfire. The grass was
soaked with a hose as a safety precaution to keep the fire in control, and, once the fire
inspectors gave us the go ahead, the evening began.
We each took turns carrying logs to build the fire. We were instructed to think of the
logs like children, and focus loving attention on them. A firewalking instructor took the
logs from us and built an impressive "boy scout" style tepee-shaped structure that
would become a roaring fire using about a half cord of wood. We took turns stuffing
newspaper in the cracks, and the fire was lit with great ceremony. A blaze reached
skyward as a word of thanks and protection was intoned by a lady wearing a long full
skirt. Surely that skirt was not a good thing to wear when walking on fire. When the
fire was blazing violet and gold, we went to the patio to try out some other
phenomenal activities. It would be two to three hours before the coals were ready.
Someone asked if we wanted to play the "rebar game" and a chorus of assent rang
out. I had no idea what that meant. Rebars are 3/4 inch diameter x 6 foot long steel
bars used to reinforce concrete. Two people stand face to face six feet apart and a
rebar is suspended between them by placing the tip of the metal rod in the hollow of
their throats. The two people are told to focus their energy and see the rod bending.
When both of them feel focused, they walk toward each other. The rod could either
pierce your throat, cut off your breathing, or it could bend. Pretty scary. However, all of
them bent. There were no tracheotomies. It is impossible to use force to bend the rod
in this position as it causes tremendous pain. I know through personal experience. But
when focusing properly, the rod just sort of melts, and you are suddenly catching your
partner in your arms as you fall toward each other laughing at the unexpected
success. Yes! I did it!
Next, we broke boards like so many karate experts. Only we weren't. One inch thick
by twenty-four inch wide pine boards set on bricks. When focused, the board almost
breaks itself. That was a tremendous energy rush for me. I didn't know I could do that.
I felt like the power rangers, "I have the power!"
Finally, the coals were ready. We returned to the back yard. The fire was so hot, it was
difficult to stand close to it for more than a few minutes. The coals were raked out
smooth, and the temperature was measured at 1200 degrees. How could we hope to
walk on this? It was too preposterous. I've seen steaks seared on lower
temperatures. I was suddenly glad I'd only come to watch.
We circled the fire pit and chanted. No one wanted to be first. I wondered if anyone
would find the courage. Suddenly Charmaine was at the top of the pit, quietly
chanting, and focusing on the far end of the coals. Then it happened. She stepped
onto the coals and kept walking, slowly, not rushing, the full twelve feet. As she
stepped off, a cheer went up, and she went around and repeated it. She was followed
by Tore and another, and another. A line of people followed, and not one injury. The
lady in the long, full skirt walked eight times, and the fabric did not catch fire. Everyone
had walked, except me and one other person. But, I had only come to watch anyway.
Some people walked slowly, some people ran, some people danced. One person
cartwheeled through the coals, and then he did the most amazing thing. He stepped
onto the coals and stood there in one place, reached down and lifted up a handful of
coals and threw them into the air. Then he quietly walked off the fire pit - unharmed.
This went on for a couple of hours. It was like a dream. My mind had no place to file
this scene. Could I do it too? Did I have enough faith and concentration? I didn't know.
I did not feel afraid. But I also did not feel compelled to walk. Even so, I had removed
my shoes and socks. Was that significant?
Then a voice was calling out "Last call. It's time to go in and dance." Charmaine
stepped up to the pit again, and this time I stepped out beside her and took her hand.
We looked briefly at each other. She squeezed my hand, and I began to walk. We
moved together, not too fast, casually.
The coals crunched under my feet, and I felt like I was in a cool tunnel of air. I couldn't
feel any on the heat I had flinched at as I raked the coals. I was about to step off the
pit, already at the other end. I did it! I had actually walked on 1200 degree coals, and
my feet were intact - not even a blister. Now everyone was cheering for ME! I knew I
was about to begin rethinking reality.
There was no other choice. =0=
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Writing by: Sandy Penny WritingMuse sandy@writingmuse.com Explore my life, writing and the magical mystical winding road I have traveled to become the WritingMuse |
| Fire Walker |