...it makes a lovely light.

Every step I take on my sore feet brings back the memory of how they got that way: playing ultimate frisbee in the rain, then dousing our over heated bodes in the pond.

When I put my face in my blanket, I smell the sweet aroma of smoke, and I remember how it got that way:  standing at the edge of the circle, staff in hand, blanket around my shoulders.  You look like a king, she said.

I see my face in the mirror, red and rough, and I remember how it got that way:  learning how to move my hips in the saidi rhythm, or bending a staff around my neck and shoulders.

I'm back in my office right now, but I feel a taste of that same sensation that Lindau Nemesis spoke about: a disassociation, a dislocation.  My body is here, but my mind is still in the woods, and when I close my eyes I can still see the wheels of fire.  It was not a perfect weekend, there were major highs and some deep lows.  But at the root of it, I learned.  I learned new techniques and new skills, which I expected to.  I learned more about myself too, and my place in the world.  When the fall comes around, I will return to burn brighter than before.

In between, there will be more fire.  Oh yes there will.