Wait In The Fire (From the Archive)

It's a secret super power that can make you feel 1000 times more alive.

EDITOR’S NOTE: I wrote and published this piece last September, as we were counting down to the Federal election and anything seemed possible. You know what’s happened since then. We’ve all developed a ravenous craving for the Democracy we took for granted. Every day we’re being scorched, so I’m returning to this lesson over and over. I learned it from Buddhist people I admire, people who have known a lifetime of fire and forged new strength inside it. I hope you find it helpful.

To crave something is to enter a state of deranged worship. Grasping the image of your heart’s desire in your mind, and circling back over it again and again, you are performing a kind of psychological pilgrimage. Each step cuts the path deeper, marking your madness and devotion in equal measure. 

Although it may seem that you’ve traveled thousands of miles, the fact is that until your craving is sated or abandoned, you are simply waiting. You are waiting in the fire. 

The waiting is painful, but it’s an exquisite pain. It is the pain of knowing that the thing you need is farawaysoclose. Sometimes the burning of your craving is so intense it could engulf you. Sometimes it dulls down to a molten roar, threatening to incinerate when you least expect it. It is always beckoning, yet always elusive, pushing and pulling in a feral but deeply compelling rhythm that shakes you to the core. 

Craving is the most intense form of appetite. My long-cherished theory is that our appetites hold the key to our true potential. Because women are socially conditioned to deny our cravings for things like food, sex, money and especially power, and because our relationship with these things is intensely policed by society, our engagement with them is charged with energy, a vigorous and unstoppable force that we could learn to direct any way we want. 

The risk of engagement with our deepest cravings is being scorched to the bone. 

Maybe this has already happened to you. Maybe you learned to douse the fire early, when it’s merely a single spark. Or maybe you’ve created a moat around yourself, a watery border that cannot be breached. It’s damp and cold in your castle, isn’t it? You have shelter, but no heat. You can smell smoke all around, the air is warm and shimmering, but the blaze can’t reach your door. 

I submit to you that this is not living. At least, not to the extent that you could be. The power of cravings, when we engage with them intentionally, is to shake us out of dull routines, connect us with passion and make us feel fully alive. But how do we engage with a craving when it threatens to destroy us? How do we wait in the fire?

The secret is to stop resisting its power, and the song to get you there is “Bring me Some Water” by Melissa Etheridge. 

Melissa is singing about her desire for an ex-lover, but it could apply to anything, anything that grabs you and won’t let go. She is there beside you in the fire of your craving, and she knows how to seek the clarity it confers: I wanna feel the steel of the red-hot truth!

Hunker down there, in the red-hot center of it. Breathe it into your lungs and feel the warmth spreading through your whole body, every nerve and every cell. Recognize that this is the fire of life itself, raw kundalini power turned up to full strength. Inviting it in and allowing it to move through you can be healing and energizing, if you stay present and grateful. Be grateful for this feverish moment, for the aliveness of your being, and the sacred life force in all things.

Now it’s time to shift direction. Take another breath, and imagine on the exhale that you’re blowing out all the fiery heat, like a dragon letting it rip. Do this for the rest of the song, but notice what Melissa does at the end: she slows the rhythm down to a full stop. She knows that you can’t live inside the fire of your craving forever. You have to breathe it in and let it go. 

Cool yourself down. Drink the water that the song calls out for, and imagine it soothing all your singed parts. Now rest for a while. When you rise you may feel a subtle but compelling thrumming in your veins. You might be more energized, and you may have a better sense of direction. What’s next on your path? Start walking toward it with your eyes open and your mind clear. Stay strong, but not hard. The fire will come again, and you need to be ready.