Control your Fire

You know when you flick your lighter at a rag soaked in gasoline?
And it bursts into a heat you automatically want to drop?

Sometimes we get those moments. And it is not passion that’s ignited.
It is anger.

Our immediate thought is,  ‘Must stop whatever made me feel this.’
And many many many of us launch with all that initial flame, into an uncontrolled reaction.
We only think with that burst and we don’t let the fire tone down to it’s more brilliant element; calamity.

Feel that fire, acknowledge it and then wait. Slowly go forth when you feel the heat has subsided- in you still but not enough for you to boil over.

We burst into flames all to quickly. Let’s try and wait it out. We’ll only get better by trying.

Approach the problem when you are calm.

You are more respected if you have yourself under control.

Make your fire healthy , not hazardous.

 
Make it heart warming, not heart burnt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some Serious Spice

I would say I’m pretty able when it comes to spices.
Over the years my tolerance has built a fortress-out of chilis as it were, and it has withstood many heatwaves.

Until today.

When my face went numb.

And my eyes gave way to streams of salt.

From previous accounts of my own and through others’ tales I have heard that gulping down water during Chili Fortress burning and crashing, is a top notch level of NO.

But it is my immediate reaction to the flames on my tongue, as it would be to flames anywhere in life.

It is like pouring gasoline into a firepit.

Now,not only is my face melting, but my stomach too.

It lurches a dozen ways in a three second span, making me feel disconnected from every limb I own.

My stomach doesnt decide to follow a lurch until I am across the room drilling into the top shelf of the fridge where I keep a supply of (don’t say yuck) dark chocolate.

If I ever needed a sweet tooth fix, now wasn’t just the only time, fixing now was all I cared about.

The smoke billows up from my gut and makes my head feel light and faintable.

This is the lurch that gets my head inside the freezer door with a brick of chocolate between my teeth and half a gallon of it down my throat.

It surprisenly works well.

Until I, without much thought other than the desperation and sheer fear I felt at the consideration of any smouldering ashes, decided to gulp down some more water.

It didn’t come back full force, but it flared the flames enough for me to want only to lay face down on the couch,
feed chocolate to my oxygen,
and think of how I was going to write this post.