It’s spring. In Tasmania this means the weather flips between summer and winter. And on Saturday I think we got winter. In our house we were cold enough to light the fire, though we hope it’s the last time we do that for the year. We’re running out of wood.
We have some gum tree logs from a tree we cut down on our property last year. Moz bravely rescued them out of the rain and did the hard work to get the fire going. The eucalyptus logs are harder to get burning, but they last a long time. At the end of the night he pulled the fire apart, separating the two remaining logs to either side of the fireplace and we went to bed.
Sunday was much warmer and we didn’t need the fire anymore. I was sitting on the couch and reading in the afternoon when I looked up in shock. Apropos of nothing, the single eucalyptus log had burst into flame again. Full on red flames were coming out of it. It had smouldered all night and for some reason had relit itself.
I had two thoughts from this amazing occurrence.
One: Australian bushfires, and the fires in the gums of California and so on, are so scary just exactly because of this – there was no reason for the fire to start again, it just did. In a single log. That’s really frightening when you’re trying to fight a fire.
The second thought is a little more detailed. And hopefully a little more cheerful.
It made me wonder if some of us have a dream, or a desire, or even a word of encouragement that we have tucked away inside of us. Something that smoulders away, giving those around us no inkling that anything is going on. Something that just keeps you warm inside.
Then one day, for no reason, it bursts back into flame. It comes to life.
It may be a surprise or a shock to those around you. They haven’t noticed the warmth, the smoulder. But you have known. Or you might have known. It might have been buried too deep for you to even realise.
When the log in our fireplace burst into flame, I did nothing about it. I let it burn, and after a while it burned out. I’m pretty sure that the fire is dead now.
I could have kept it going. I could have placed a second log on the fire, or added some kindling.
If you want your dream to stay you’re going to have to nurture it. Now that it’s shown itself, now that it’s burning on the surface, find some other like-minded people and nurture your flame. Make an effort to do the writing, or the practice, or the exercise, or the training, or whatever makes your dream a reality. Take the next step. Don’t waste this moment.
You never know what may come of it.
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