What I Learned from Making Fire

Last weekend, I had the opportunity to participate in a nature based coaching seminar led by my friends and colleagues Michael Trotta and Margaret Webb. I learned how to make my own rope, how to tune into my other senses when I’m blindfolded, where I still have work to do on stepping into and owning my space, and…WE MADE FIRE. I was very excited about the opportunity to make fire. I’ve never done it before without matches or a lighter, and I’ve heard Margaret share so many great metaphors about fire-making and fire-tending, relating it to our own inner fire.

We were split into teams of five people and given some wooden tools, a rope and a small wood chip. We were instructed not to speak to each other and to figure it out. My team quickly figured out how the wooden pieces worked together, but it took us awhile to determine how to use the rope. It was interesting not talking. It made us work more as a team. Words can be so limiting to describe things sometimes, and often the loudest or most assertive person can overrun a group. No one could talk over anyone else – we had to use our hands and show what we were thinking. Being silent, it felt like we were more equal.

At intervals, our guides would allow us to talk to each other for one minute, or to ask them one question. We made smoke and heat, but it wasn’t until we’d been at it for nearly an hour that they demonstrated the fine points of how to get it all to work. But still…it wasn’t working. My team members and I traded off on the different roles: one person held the bottom piece of wood, one person held the top piece of wood down, two people worked the rope which moved the middle piece, and one person tended the kindling. As our arms would tire, we’d switch roles. I noticed when I was pulling the rope opposite one of my teammates, they were pulling significantly harder than me. During our silence, I tried to motion to ease off on the effort. Later, when I could speak, I asked them to not pull so hard. But as we worked and worked to make the fire start, the frustration and determination were increasing, and with that, the effort increased as well. I relinquished my role of pulling the rope to tend the kindling. I felt I couldn’t get my point across successfully that the effort was too much. Then, our guide Michael suggested we find a rhythm. I began to sing – not a rhythmic work song, but a calm, soft one: When You Say Nothing at All. I instinctively knew we needed to relax a bit. After the second verse, we had a significant coal. After all that time, it really didn’t take long at all when we had the right technique AND the right energy. My job was to place the coal on the kindling and coax it to life. The flame caught and burst spectacularly into bright light right before my face, and we all whooped and hollered with our success.

I could feel the “must make it happen” energy. I know it well, because I’ve done that for most of my life. I have pushed myself to be more, to do more, to achieve more until I’m physically and mentally exhausted or injured.

Michael said to our intent-on-making-fire team at one point, “It wants to happen.” Ah, revelation! Fire wants to happen! We didn’t need to fight it.

What wants to happen in your life? Can you allow it? Allowing doesn’t mean not doing anything. We were still a busy crew with our fire-making tools. But the energy was completely different as we shifted from the must-make-this-work energy to one that was more playful, more relaxed, and cohesive with each other and our tools. I invite you to play with this energy, to allow what wants to happen in your world.