You’ve been wandering out there long enough.
It’s time to come in from the cold.
I’ll leave the door unlocked.
Come, warm yourself by my fire.
In December I watched a show on Netflix called “Blue Eye Samurai”. It has fantastic storytelling, but I must warn you it’s quite gory. There are many good moments in the show, but there’s a certain dialogue that seized my spirit.
From Blue Eye Samurai
Sword Father: “I did not train you to be a demon, or a human. I showed you to be an artist. To be an artist is to do one thing only. Look at me. Cannot fight, or weave, or farm. I make swords. I cook for strength to make good swords. I study the sutras to cleanse my heart to make good swords.”
Mizu: “You think revenge is an art?”
Sword Father: “Swords, pots, noodles, death. It is all the same to an artist.”
Mizu: “Then I am a bad artist.”
Sword Father: “An artist gives all they have to the art, the whole. Your strength and deficiencies, your loves and shames. Perhaps the people you collected. I made my best blades when I had an apprentice.”
Mizu: “I thought I annoyed you.”
Sword Father: “Both are true. There may be a demon in you, but there is more. If you do not invite the whole, the demon takes two chairs, and your art will suffer.”
Mizu: “Then what do I do?”
Sword Father: “I only know how to make swords. Each morning, I start a fire. And begin again.”
A few months ago I was talking to a friend who was feeling a bit burnt out and uninspired by her creative work.
I told her, “You can’t cook without a fire.”
We get so focused on outcomes and results we lose sight of the simplicity of process, what we would call the “real work.” We use the word “spark” to describe the beginning of something that spreads, whether it’s creativity, love, or an idea.
We are in search of spark, of flame.
The tiny poem you first read above is an invitation, could be to something or someone, but without tending to the fire, we have nothing to offer. We want to offer creativity, ideas, love, nourishment, etc, and we think this may be our generous offering, but the reality is, the first step toward this kind of giving is tending to our fires first.
I think about the ritual of lighting a fire in the mornings, before gas and electricity, the act of having to kindle something so one could acquire sustenance and take care of their families. How the Sword Father told us the basic component of the craft: you build a fire, and begin again.
Things and to do lists can get overwhelming, but if we have some spark, something to start the fire each day, we can continue somehow.
I would not call this flame we are in search for “passion” but “Meaning”.
And Meaning is something that could change, per season, per day.
But we are in search of this flame.
Sometimes we can take our oil lamp or kindling to someone who has a good fire roaring and ask if they could light us up for the day.
Fire is contagious you know.
If you have one going, share it.
If your light is out, seek and you will find.
Each morning, start a fire, and begin again.
With Love,
T.