Tuesday night we tried to teach Fenya and Bobby how to play crib, but it got too dark to read the cards. Instead we sat around the campfire talking until after 11:00.
It occurs to me that fire may be the most compelling of the ancient elements. The rolling swell of the ocean has a captivating majesty of its own, but there doesn't seem to be anything to match fire as a a gathering point, the warmth and shifting light compelling both attraction and conversation.
The four of us covered some heavy ground, topically: childrearing, relationships, our own family histories and childhood recollections. There was some deep sharing done and new insights gained.
Fenya theorized that disclosure may come easier because you are not able to make eye contact as easily, between the darkness and the flames or embers demanding our attention. You are not as focused on the reactions of the other listeners and needn't fear the raising of eyebrows or the rolling of eyes the way you might when face-to-face in broad daylight.
It makes sense, and made me wonder: is this why we sometimes prefer to have difficult conversations on the telephone? Is this why Roosevelt gave his insightful and inspiring talks from the fireside?
How ironic that the fire early humans domesticated for protection from the elements and predators can also provoke a vulnerability and openness that we embrace so willingly, even unknowingly.
The difference in context, as I write this at a picnic table in broad daylight at noon, shaded by a tree, makes recalling that evening even more difficult. It gives my memories an orange glow that fixes the feeling in my memory while also adding a patina that obscures details.
Getting a brief respite from the wasps that have plagued our campsite this week and the relief that brought may have also loosened our tongues, but whatever the reason, I was grateful for a chance to participate in such a conversation. And I recognize it probably wouldn't have happened without the fire.
No comments:
Post a Comment