Blew up a hearth fire


” A third cause lies in the achievements of technology that substitute new means for so many tasks to which women previously applied her inventiveness and creative spirit. Where she formally blew up a hearth fire, and thus still accomplished the Promethean act, Today she turns a gas plug or an electrical switch and has no inkling of what she sacrifices by these practical novelties, nor what consequences the loss entails. For everything not done in the traditional way will be done n a new way and that is not altogether simple.”

~ Animus Pg 7, Animus and Anima , Two Essays by Emma Jung.

Now is the season for fireside chats.

As a child after playing outside in the cold, we ran into the house for dinner. Then the fireplace was open on three sides. The fire blazed with a passion that rubbed the cold off of our faces. The chat around the fireside was dinner and TV shows: sitting on pillows around the dinner table. A big family and lots of friends have currently come down to my immediate family. Now it is only the four of us. I know this will not last forever. Our family may get bigger or smaller…yet fire is still part of this endearing equation.

We still blow up the hearth fire to accomplish the Promethean act.

I have just finished reading two books by Linda Leonard before the warmth of my winter fireplace. Now my life is filled with those that I wish were my friends. Within Linda’s books are stories or mini biographies of women who I would love to sit around the fireside and chat with: Rosa Luvemburg, Maria Callas, or any of the women whose stories Linda shared.

Sitting and talking around the fireplace; just reflecting while watching the fire and imagining freely… is a very healing thing to do.

Years ago, for Christmas I would get a 6 by 6-foot cardboard. We lived in a little apartment and did not have a fireplace. So, I painted one on cardboard: a red brick fireplace with a glowing fire of yellow, orange, and red colors!! My eldest son and I enjoyed many a Christmas fires together, enhanced by our imagination. We talked and played for hours as most mothers do with their young children…in front of the fireplace.