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For the first few days after Wildfire, Facebook is aglow with gushing reviews by new attendees and some returning veterans. They talk about transformational experiences, the feeling of coming home, and the strong sense of community. These kind of posts often trigger a reflexive disquiet in me, or a cynical shaking of my head. Were they seeing something that I didn't? Didn't I feel the same? Once the first rush of the moment passes, and with reflection on the hours and days that passed, certain truths do come to the surface. Wildfire is an amazing experience for a first time attendee. You are immersed in a community of people with a shared love affair with fire. Fire is capricious and consuming and dangerous, yet we all spend the weekend learning to respect it, and play with it. It would be silly to say that cliques and groups don't exist, but for the large part people are welcoming and friendly by default, and if you are looking for a hug it's not hard to find.
My preparations all paid off. The skies were free of rain, but grass was cold and wet at night. My new boots kept my feet dry. The air was cold, but blankets and fire pits and performing kept you warm on the field. At night, my UnderArmor and sleeping bag (more like a cocoon really) kept me snug and warm. If only it protected me from the earth-shattering snores just outside my tent! The days were gloriously sunny but cool, and as a result I was not dead to the world by Saturday night, and could enjoy walking aroud, chatting with friends and playing on the field. There were a few dark clouds in my mind, but they only threatened, without down pouring. I laughed and smiled more, collecting hugs where I could, helping other when I knew more, and asking questions when I didn't
Much progress was made on rope dart and staff. I can add fire eating and whips to my list of Things I Have Tried. I don't think I'll make a habit of fire eating, but I would try it again, with some experienced folks. I must find a way to get a whip. They are amazing.
It's safe to say that this Wildfire was a big improvement over the last few, and might be my second best to date. When you're alone, you are rarely immune to envy, and that's just a fact of life. It can be tough hanging out with the equivalent of Gene Kelley or Frank Sinatra, people who ooze charm and talent they way you and I ooze sweat. This will always be the case, when a community of performers get together. The old habit would be to spiral down after seeing a performance of that skill, by one so adored and desired. As the last night of Wildfire began, I took an active stance in seeking out new people to safety for me (all spinners must have someone nearby ready to help extinguish flames). I was the first person to burn a newly invented empty knot with my dart. I took some time to try all the new moves I learned with staff, not caring if I dropped it or not. In front of an audience of one, I danced with my torch poi, the flame inches from my skin. She was a bellydancer, and she gushed about what I did as we walked back to the fire pits. A short time and many hugs later, I piled into the car and left home behind, and returned to Arlington.
This was a weekend of transformations. I'm somewhere in the middle, but change is definitely afoot. I look forward to seeing what comes next.
My preparations all paid off. The skies were free of rain, but grass was cold and wet at night. My new boots kept my feet dry. The air was cold, but blankets and fire pits and performing kept you warm on the field. At night, my UnderArmor and sleeping bag (more like a cocoon really) kept me snug and warm. If only it protected me from the earth-shattering snores just outside my tent! The days were gloriously sunny but cool, and as a result I was not dead to the world by Saturday night, and could enjoy walking aroud, chatting with friends and playing on the field. There were a few dark clouds in my mind, but they only threatened, without down pouring. I laughed and smiled more, collecting hugs where I could, helping other when I knew more, and asking questions when I didn't
Much progress was made on rope dart and staff. I can add fire eating and whips to my list of Things I Have Tried. I don't think I'll make a habit of fire eating, but I would try it again, with some experienced folks. I must find a way to get a whip. They are amazing.
It's safe to say that this Wildfire was a big improvement over the last few, and might be my second best to date. When you're alone, you are rarely immune to envy, and that's just a fact of life. It can be tough hanging out with the equivalent of Gene Kelley or Frank Sinatra, people who ooze charm and talent they way you and I ooze sweat. This will always be the case, when a community of performers get together. The old habit would be to spiral down after seeing a performance of that skill, by one so adored and desired. As the last night of Wildfire began, I took an active stance in seeking out new people to safety for me (all spinners must have someone nearby ready to help extinguish flames). I was the first person to burn a newly invented empty knot with my dart. I took some time to try all the new moves I learned with staff, not caring if I dropped it or not. In front of an audience of one, I danced with my torch poi, the flame inches from my skin. She was a bellydancer, and she gushed about what I did as we walked back to the fire pits. A short time and many hugs later, I piled into the car and left home behind, and returned to Arlington.
This was a weekend of transformations. I'm somewhere in the middle, but change is definitely afoot. I look forward to seeing what comes next.
