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Fire and Ashes

Good day, gentle readers. Today is the first day in what in my spiritual tradition is known as the season of Lent. Lent literally means looooong and sloooow, and that's how it feels sometimes.

Last night, we gathered for a service where I have the humble honor of writing a cross on the foreheads of participants using ashes. As per my usual, I mix these ashes -- created by burning the palms from Holy Week the year before -- with some kind of oil or unction. It has the benefit of both smelling nice and making the mark stick better. I get you good! Plus, they don't blow around if you happen to be doing this outside, which I have on many occasions.



This year I looked at ashes differently. That's because I live in a farmhouse now, with a wood stove to provide heat. I now know how to build a fire! And I don't mind telling you, I feel pretty good about that. I feel strong and earthy. And of course, warm.




A farm neighbor named Gail graciously brought me some firewood, and very (very) helpfully stayed to give me a quick lesson in wood stoves. I learned how to make the first "stack", building a kind of lean-to against two logs with paper and kindling, slowly closing the damper once things got crackling, and then eventually adding more wood. I especially like the change that happens when the damper and door are both fully closed, how the flame goes from being a roar to a quiet, sure hearth full of lasting warmth. Turns out, a fire needs what we all need: air, space, fuel, attention and time.



In the morning, all that is left of this dramatic event are ashes. Some fluffy and grey, and some charcoal black. They stain my fingers when I clean the stove or when I begin building the fire that next night. They remind me that, no matter what you work on, whether it was a roaring success or a diminishing flicker, it ends up as ashes. Like us. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.


This year, when I said the words "remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return" I thought about it not only as a lifelong process, but as a day-to-day endeavor. We start in the morning with dust and end up that way as well. And hopefully, we create a spark, a flame, and some warmth, in between.


May your days be long, slow and bright.

Love

Joyce

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