I awoke late last night when G. Gordon Kitty left my lap to attend some business. It was time for a warm bed and deeper sleep. In the fireplace, the logs were silent. Having no one awake to attend them, they had abated.
They sit there this morning unfulfilled, waiting to be included in the next use of the hearth. Like everywhere when one is looking, there is a lesson here.
Untended fires die. They reach their end unless stoked, unless someone is there to keep the flame going.
Writing can be like that. You may wander away from a project, to find the coals cold when you return. Relationships can cool. Enthusiasms fade until one last wisp of smoke signals that the burning has finished.
Sometime soon, perhaps tonight, I will add wood to the fireplace, more kindling, and another spark will see the fire rise once more. It is not over; there is a pause instead because I will care to begin again.
Tend your fires. Finish that draft. Hold someone close to you. Sit with your old cat. Keep your fires going, and if one should die for a time do what you need to do. Time ticks by at a steady rate—you will be doing something, if only deteriorating. Why not take action, which brings warmth back into a cold world?
Fire, seen from a distance, will let someone know that you are here.
Choose to Love, -DA