Every morning the world is created

The journey of adding sillyness to the serious

Greetings!

Recently I was part of a group that memorized poems together. Facilitated by my dear New York City friend Matthew, who is a wizard of all things written and spoken, we came together to not just learn the words by heart but share the cadence, rhythm, heart, laughter, and tears of poetry with each other. *

An example: during one or our weekly Thursday morning book club meetings, Matthew recited one of the serious love sonnets we had learned to the tune of Gilligan’s Island. Somehow, it fit perfectly into the song, words of unrequited love bouncing happily to the lilt of stranded-on-an-island lyrics. I laughed so hard I cried.

I think this is how we are going to make it through these times, dear friends: by taking the serious and adding it to a jolly tune, and by taking serenity and adding cayenne pepper and fiery passion. We have to mix things up, try again, and sing out our pain and sorrow and love.

I spent last weekend in Sweden at a Gathering of 50 firewalk instructors from 16 different countries. We are all trained extensively in fire safety and leadership. And for four days we broke all the rules agreed on rules of firewalk protocols and partied hard. Tending fire with bare feet. Walking over burning logs. Building enormous fires and jumping over them. I walked a 150-foot path of burning coals shaped into a snake and then a yin-yang symbol, and danced a circular fire with wild abandon. Then for two nights in a row I danced until 2:30 am, ecstatic to be singing and shaking my body with friends old and new.

It was exactly what I needed to continue with the many projects and land restoration work ahead of me.

Here is a picture of the firewalk instructors from the United States at The Gathering: Texas, Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, Arizona, and Washington in the house! Along with a few of our international friends: Latvia, Sweden, Germany, Spain, and Hungary.

Okay, that is the update from these fiery parts! Later today I head up to the land to do more seed planting and stain the deck on our new bathhouse. I was hoping Kaitlin would join me, but she unfortunately has covid so we’ll have to wait to do the next level of planning on soil restoration.

Next week I’ll start sharing more writings on other topics around how to dance with the contradictions we all face in this journey of life. Let me know if you have any suggestions of what you would like me to write about.

Also, next week is my birthday (Friday, October 13th). My birthday request this year is for you to consider becoming a paid subscriber to Out of the Fire, or upgrading to a founding member. Or (and!) you can pre-order my new book, Wild, Willing, and Wise which is now available on amazon.com (the book will come out July 2024; if you preorder now it will be sent to you then.) THANK YOU AND GRATITUDE! And if you can’t contribute financially, please send me a sweet blessing or prayer or poem in the comments : )

Each month or so in Out of the Fire I’ll share a poem, a song, and/or art that has shaped, inspired, and informed my life. Today’s artwork is by Lucy Campbell and poem is by Mary Oliver.

*Learning the art of memorizing and reciting poetry is a radical act of self-love and creative beauty. I can’t share enough about how amazing it is to work with Matthew in a small group. His next round of Committed to Memory, Committed to Heart starts October 26th for four weeks. Email him at mstillman@gmail.com for more information.

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This poem by Mary Oliver was sent to me years ago when I was going through a divorce, and it was such an important talisman to hold onto. May it kindle your fire of knowing what you need to do.

The Journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice--

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voices behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do--

determined to save

the only life you could save.

~ Mary Oliver

Devotions: The Selected Poems of Mary Oliver

Artwork: Every Morning the World is Created by Lucy Campbell