Earth Sensory Perception is a subsection of Our Uncertain Future and represents a compilation of essays on animistic nature connections in the modern world. Johanna DeBiase is an author and Nature Therapy Guide living off grid in Taos, NM.
December’s Intuitive EcoWriting Workshop, Writing Winter Solstice, is Thursday, December 19th 5-7 pm MT. Registration closes December 16th. More info below. These generative writing classes for all levels of writing experience delve into a new topic each month, opening a pathway for nature connections while creating authentic prose.
As far as we know, primordial humans lived in darkness until they discovered how to harness fire only a million years ago. Each night as the sun descended, our ancestors, homo habilis, headed to their den to form a hairy cuddle puddle of warmth against the cold. They could see nothing beyond the mouth of the cave on new moon nights, trembling with anticipation of predators with better night vision who might find them easy prey. Yet, they understood in a way we can barely comprehend in our modern world, their interdependence and connection to all beings in existence. They lived intimately with the wild ones, all equal without the force of fire for their summoning.
Since ancient times, fire was believed to be stolen, not gifted to humans. There are myths all over the world about fire being stolen by or for humans. In Greek mythology, Prometheus stole fire from the gods and gave it to humanity. The San peoples of South Africa tell of how the folk hero Cagan stole fire from the ostrich to give to humans. Various Native American tribes tell the stories of how fire was stolen and given to humans by Coyote, Beaver, Dog, Grandmother Spider, Opossum, Crow, Rabbit and more. In Australia, India, Georgia, Polynesia, New Zealand and others, indigenous tales of fire being stolen for humans are prevalent. Cultures considered fire helpful but harmful because, as in the story of Prometheus, once humans had fire, they believed they were as powerful as the gods.
Once we could direct fire, we were able to leave the dark cave, leave the warm bodies, leave the forest and venture to all corners of the world. We then had the power to heat ourselves, light our way, cook our food, burn away obstacles, scare away predators and much more. In time, we harnessed fire to build engines of industry and weapons of mass destruction. When we stole fire, we stole the power to build civilizations. We became separated from the wilderness.
On a stormy winter day with those big fat snowflakes glistening across the sky, I love to slide my chair up to the hearth and stay inside, reading a book in my pajamas and drinking hot tea and soup I cooked on my stove. I can avoid the weather all together if I want to. It doesn’t affect me more than my mood. Thanks, fire. However, we must acknowledge the foremost reality that although we can harness fire, we don’t control fire.
WILD FIRE
In the spring of 2022, the largest forest fire in New Mexico history, the Hermit’s Peak and Calf Canyon Fires, closed in on communities neighboring my own and burned over 341,000 acres and destroyed more than 900 structures. As wildfires raged over the southern Rocky Mountains, plumes of smoke appeared over Sangre de Cristo peaks like low hanging storm clouds, but there was no rain in sight. Wind season came early and strong to northern New Mexico and did not let up. The wind fueled the wildfires, turning two small ones into one massive one. Both fires were caused by human error. One was ignited when the U.S. Forest Service lost control of a prescribed burn and the other resulted from an improperly extinguished Forest Service pile burn from January that rekindled in the strong spring winds. The two fires were only a few miles apart from each other and merged into a catastrophic inferno that raged for months.
Towns were evacuated. The higher the wind gusts, the quicker people needed to leave behind everything they had. Ranchers lost homes that had been in their families for generations. I was heartbroken to imagine what it felt like to have your whole life charcoaled. I imagined animals, too, running for their lives, fleeing their forest homes in search of new habitats as trees burned to char. Wildfires are growing in frequency, size and intensity and wildfire seasons are stretching longer as climate change advances. These unpredictable and dangerous fires will become the norm in our near future.
Often when we think of wildfire, we think only of the negative repercussions. We forget that fire is an important part of the ecosystem that helps to cull abundant overgrowth. We know from observing the forest after a wildfire that something spectacular happens after everything is destroyed, beautiful vibrant flowers bloom. Fireweed, hollyhock, manzanita, fire poppy, snapdragon, lupine, phacelia and many other fire followers thrive off the soil created when dead trees are returned to the earth. They use heat, smoke, or charred soil as signals to sprout. Large pole pines have cones that require the heat of the fire to release their seeds, and the fire creates favorable conditions for the seeds to germinate.
Fires are crucial to forest renewal. They release valuable nutrients stored in the debris on the forest understory. They open the forest canopy to sunlight to stimulate growth. Fires can also kill and contain diseases and insects that might otherwise spread. With less plants absorbing water, streams are given new space to expand. Fires wipe the forest clean and kill many trees, yes, but they also create a new template for new growth to prosper and in time, a new forest will emerge.
Fire has its own spirit. Fire destroys and it promotes regrowth from the remains of its destruction. In this way, it is transformative. Fire is far from our control. It can go wild and burn down an entire forest or refuse to ignite when we need it most. And yet, we are wholly dependent on it for survival. Whether it was stolen or procured, fire is a reticent gift of the gods--a tool and a weapon. It allows our modern world to exist and yet keeps us distant from the natural world. Fire is a blessing and a curse, and it transforms blessings to curses and curses to blessings. With respect and gratitude, we can call on fire for its power of transformation-- to turn our raw food to edible, to sanitize our tools, to weld, to heat our homes, to give light in the dark, to power our bodies, to digest our food, to engage our soul in ceremony.
FIRE RITUALS
When the earth tilts away from the sun, we are in the dark and cold. The sun, our fiery star, is farther from us and our reliance on fire is more apparent. And so, at this time, we honor and give thanks to fire for its gift. Throughout time Winter Solstice rituals have revolved around fire quite simply because we are ritualizing the act of calling the sun back, calling the great fire back.
Here are fire rituals you can use for winter solstice:
Build a bonfire and circle around with loved ones. Sing, drum, dance and tell stories. Imagine you are calling back the fire. When we circle around a fire, we are ritualizing a return to that time before our separation from the wilderness. We are calling for a return to our wild souls
Light a candle at sunset on winter solstice and let it burn until sunrise, as if you are holding vigil for the light in the darkness. Think of your ancestors who had no fire at all. Honor that the winter brings us back to our origins of darkness, mystery and connection.
Burn stuff. Write down everything you need to burn away—war, racism, hatred, fear, anger, etc.—and burn it however you please. Set the intention to let it go and watch it transform to ash. Bury the ash in a planter to give your green friend a splash of potassium. Whisper your intentions for new growth—love, peace, joy, abundance.
Sweat it out. There may or may not be a fire in your sauna, but it still counts as a fire ritual. Whether you sweat in hot springs, a bathtub, a temazcal, a wet or dry sauna, whatever, set the intention to release all the energy of the past year from your body. Embrace the heat and feel the tension, stress, karma, et al, spill out of you and return to the earth (or tile floor) until you feel cleansed.
JOURNAL PROMPT
If you could burn something down right now, destroy it to transform it, what would you choose? This could be personal, cultural or global. Set a timer for 15 minutes and imagine burning something down. Write with vivid details. Feel the heat, smell the smoke, gaze into the dancing light. Perhaps imagining, like a phoenix rising from the ash, its transformation. What does it become?
You put me in the mood for a campfire 🔥 I especially like thinking about it as something stolen and part destructive, part nurturing. Have you seen that movie Quest for Fire? It’s about Neanderthals who go on a quest to find fire. I know you would love it.