Judy Brown shared this picture of the fireplace in the house where she grew up in Michigan.  She writes: “It strikes me that as a child I likely spent a fair amount of time before that fire. It makes me wonder if we have wisdom from our early experiences that can inform our later lives–if we can slow down, bring those experiences to mind, and reflect on them. “

The following are her reflections on “Fire” from her website. (Originally posted on November 15, 2013 at http://www.judysorumbrown.com/blog/breathing-space)

Reflections On Fire: Judy Sorum Brown

This week it got cold enough here in Maryland to have a fire in the fireplace.  The first fire of the season.  Marking a turning toward winter.  And for us, a chance to begin to make good use of the wood from the 100 year old oak that was felled by a sudden storm 18 months ago.  So this first fire was a ritual of sorts.  And also a reminder to me of the importance of creating spaciousness in our lives.

I think for many of us it takes intention to preserve spaciousness–especially over the holidays.   Sometimes we forget what is possible when we leave “breathing space.”  A group of physicians I recently worked with called that spaciousness “margin”.  Wayne Mueller writing in Sabbath calls it “rest.”

My own contribution to our collective dialogue on the value of spaciousness is the poem “Fire” which popped out of my head and onto my journal page years ago, as I sat in front of a stone fireplace, watching a blazing fire, and reflected on the depth of my struggle with overload, overwork and over-commitment.  Too much of a good thing on all fronts.

The poem “Fire”, dictated to me by my inner voice, has been full of surprises for me. The first is the recognition that it is above all a recipe for building a fire.  A simple, straight-forward set of directions. The second is the many places the poem has seemed to serve–poetry collections, prayer books across a range of spiritual traditions, meditations–and the many places around the world. But the third is the way it continues to help me, and perhaps many of us, through times when we tend to pile on too much in the belief that the world requires us to assemble, and carry, that load.

And finally, it reminds me, as I write this, that it isn’t always something new, something we’ve not done before, or thought before, or written before, that is needed.  Sometimes it’s just taking out what we already have, and offering it.  The simple decorations from last year.  The simple tried and true recipe.  The old familiar Fiesta dishes that were my mothers.  The poem “Fire” itself.   Creating spaciousness by making use of what we already have.

Wishing you a spacious spirit in the weeks to come!