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Wildfire is first and foremost, a training camp. It's for people who want to improve their skills in the fire arts, and grow as performers. It's also a chance to meet new people, have a great time, and grow closer to those you know. Some of this was very successful. Some was not.
Friday was a great deal of fun: sharing a ride with a friend, letting our excitement fuel each other as the city lights dimmed and the stars glowed stronger. Stowing my gear, meeting old friends and getting warm hugs and kisses, the feel of the staff in my hand and the heat of the fire on my face. It was a great start to the weekend, even with the onset of the cold. I didn't prepare for how cold it would eventually become.
Saturday was full of classes, and lots of new people. It was extremely exhausting, and even after ending the day with a sports massage class (the instructor taught my partner to massage me with her feet) I was utterly exhausted. This led to a pretty steep mental descent, and the rest of the night was fairly miserable when the cold rolled in. I wanted to do more, but couldn't.
It only got worse Sunday, as rain (unexpected, but apparently a constant at Wildfire) swept across the campsite, keeping the temperature very cool and damp. There were more classes, but I skipped a few in an attempt to rest and rejuvenate. Chandra came to my rescue, and sat with me for a while. I didn't spin at all Sunday, though I came close. I saw ample examples of the bonding and connectedness between people at the event, but felt precious little of it. Back to sleep, back to the cold, the voices and laughter of those around the fire swirling overhead like crows.
By Monday morning most of the camp had left, those who remained took one more class and then sat to discuss problems with the event, what worked and what could be improved. Many remarked on the renewed sense of community. I bit my lip. But I did feel more of it on the last day, finishing the leftover among those who'd gone the distance, like me. I helped break down some of the equipment and clean the site before I returned to Arlington, for rest and a much appreciated shower.
This was not the happiest event I'd been to. The weather played a big part in that, as did exhaustion, but a lot of the blame lies in my head. Wildfire is a retreat first, and in that it was a great success. I learned a lot of new moves for my staff, and have many things to practice and hone. I picked up a fire sword and was highly praised by the teacher when he saw me burn later. I breathed fire, something I never thought I'd do either. There were several great performances as well. People remembered me from past events.
After this weekend, I am inspired to give more of myself next time. I want to teach (or help teach) a class on basic spinning. I want to safety more (watch over those burning on the field). I definitely want to burn and breathe more, and share that desire with others. The more I can do that, the more I will feel connected. The more I will see that I'm connected already, and that I will feel it, in my bones, burning like a fire.
So we will walk, through the fire...
Friday was a great deal of fun: sharing a ride with a friend, letting our excitement fuel each other as the city lights dimmed and the stars glowed stronger. Stowing my gear, meeting old friends and getting warm hugs and kisses, the feel of the staff in my hand and the heat of the fire on my face. It was a great start to the weekend, even with the onset of the cold. I didn't prepare for how cold it would eventually become.
Saturday was full of classes, and lots of new people. It was extremely exhausting, and even after ending the day with a sports massage class (the instructor taught my partner to massage me with her feet) I was utterly exhausted. This led to a pretty steep mental descent, and the rest of the night was fairly miserable when the cold rolled in. I wanted to do more, but couldn't.
It only got worse Sunday, as rain (unexpected, but apparently a constant at Wildfire) swept across the campsite, keeping the temperature very cool and damp. There were more classes, but I skipped a few in an attempt to rest and rejuvenate. Chandra came to my rescue, and sat with me for a while. I didn't spin at all Sunday, though I came close. I saw ample examples of the bonding and connectedness between people at the event, but felt precious little of it. Back to sleep, back to the cold, the voices and laughter of those around the fire swirling overhead like crows.
By Monday morning most of the camp had left, those who remained took one more class and then sat to discuss problems with the event, what worked and what could be improved. Many remarked on the renewed sense of community. I bit my lip. But I did feel more of it on the last day, finishing the leftover among those who'd gone the distance, like me. I helped break down some of the equipment and clean the site before I returned to Arlington, for rest and a much appreciated shower.
This was not the happiest event I'd been to. The weather played a big part in that, as did exhaustion, but a lot of the blame lies in my head. Wildfire is a retreat first, and in that it was a great success. I learned a lot of new moves for my staff, and have many things to practice and hone. I picked up a fire sword and was highly praised by the teacher when he saw me burn later. I breathed fire, something I never thought I'd do either. There were several great performances as well. People remembered me from past events.
After this weekend, I am inspired to give more of myself next time. I want to teach (or help teach) a class on basic spinning. I want to safety more (watch over those burning on the field). I definitely want to burn and breathe more, and share that desire with others. The more I can do that, the more I will feel connected. The more I will see that I'm connected already, and that I will feel it, in my bones, burning like a fire.
So we will walk, through the fire...
