“It is what it is,” they love to tell me — “they” being the folks around me who prize equanimity and feel regular urges to prove their elevation above it all by simply accepting what is as “what is.”
Perhaps I am not quite as advanced as they. Perhaps I need more sleep.
I have been wandering around in a daze for two days, since I last walked across glowing coals in a show of faith.
Faith… in what? In the act of walking across glowing coals — the remains of a gigantic fire lit in the middle of nowhere.
Cultures have been walking on fire, coals, lava, hot chains, and more, for as long as we have had questions. This is nothing new, really. Just another go-round of proving that something improbable can be done.
The first time I did this thing, two weks ago, I was quite sure I would never do it again.
Now, I’m not so sure I’m ever going to NOT be able to do it again.
There’s something about that act, the removing of shoes in the heart of a bitterly cold winter’s night, the stepping up to the line of fire, and stepping forward. Not lingering, but moving. Moving quickly. With purpose. With intention.
I accept that the coals are hot and burn. I accept that it scares the living daylights out of me to stand barefoot before the fire.
I accept the challenge. And move.