Sometimes you just need to purge. And sometimes, when it’s
really personal, the purging needs to be ceremonial and include fire. So of
course a summertime beach bonfire with the girls is the answer to all that
holds you down in life.
Armed with a fistful of letters, pictures, cards, and what
nots from lovers past, I grabbed my best girlfriends and a pile of wood and headed
out to the beach to cleanse my soul. You know the saying; clear out the old to
make room for the new. We were clearing with fire! And wine, lots of wine -
let's be honest.
We sat up a camp at a beach where bonfires were “mostly”
legal, in an alcove protected from the wind. After popping open some bubbly,
I set forth to make fire while the other ladies put out a nice food spread.
With only one injury (do not pick up a smoldering log with your bare hand), we
had a bona-fide ceremonial bonfire.
There were four of us gals, each coming to the purge with
our own items to clear. I with my items from ex-lovers, Adrianne with her utility
bills from a previous residence, Carri with gifts from her last love, and Rachel
offering ceremonial support. We also brought a Sharpie and paper to write down
items we wanted to bring into our lives to offer the fire. It was a very well rounded
ceremony plan.
We started to attract attention from passers by on the beach
as our piles became smaller and the fire larger. An older, elegantly dressed couple approached
us as we fed the fire.
“Who are you burning?” The lady
asked, unabashed to be intruding on our ceremony.
“We are clearing out the old,” Carri replied, not yet
willing to divulge our ceremonial plans.
“No,” the lady replied, “you
guys are giving it to someone. A man. What did he do?”
Again Carri clarified, “It’s
just old stuff we’re getting rid of, clearing space.”
“No. It’s a ‘fuck you!’” Said this extremely proper looking
lady on the beach. “A ‘fuck you fucker!’ I always wanted to do that! Can I
help?”
My jaw just dropped. Does every woman dream of seeing
evidence of unrelinquished love being engulfed in flames. It’s such a brutal but
satisfying image. No one gets hurt, but you get to see fire physically removing
these items from your life. It’s very cathartic.
“You can write a note and add
your own to the fire,” I offered.
“I am happily married. That’s my
husband right there.”
“Hi,” waved the handsome, quiet white haired man at her
side.
“I want to give it to your guy. Fuck you fucker!” exclaimed
the lady, jumping excitedly about the fire and twitching her hand towards it as
if practicing.
Carri, not one to decline someone joy, handed the lady one
of her own cards. The lady jumped excitedly as she took the card. Then she read
it… this stranger actually began reading Carri’s personal ceremonial burning
item.
“I don’t think you are supposed to read it dear,” whispered
the nice husband, obviously getting it.
“Hush,” She said, “It’s alright”
Carri nodded, “No it’s ok, it’s
not a good one.”
The lady started bouncing again, preparing to get her burn
on. “FUCK YOU FUCKER!!” And with a twitch of her wrist, the card darted into
the fire and was slowly consumed.
“Thank you so much! I’ve always wanted to do that.” As the
lady watched the card burned, a smiled spread from her mouth to her eyes.
The husband circled the lady’s waist with his arm and
directed her back towards the beach as she beamed giddily at us. “Thank you,”
he said, somewhat embarrassed. But the lady was exhilarated, obviously a result
of the power of the F.Y.F. burning ceremony.
As the couple walked away, the four of us stared at each
other. “Well that was something,” Rachel remarked. We refilled our glasses and
resumed our burning activities.
As soon as we did, the fire grew
and drew another older couple our way.
“Is this a burning ceremony?” asked another older lady, this
one with long, flowing white hair streaked with purple wearing an ornate purple
blouse and matching purple slacks.
“Yes,” Adrianne responded. “We
are purging the old and making room for the new.”
“Ohhhh. I love it. I did that once. I stripped down and
danced around the fire as I burned everything I had from an ex love.” She waved
her hands above her head, illustrating how she danced around the fire, and I
couldn’t help but picture her naked.
“How did that work out for you,” I asked, immediately
intrigued by this unique creature.
“Wonderfully! I met my husband, over there,” she said,
pointing to a man who had remained a reasonable distance away from our woman
fire festivity. “We’ve been married 30 years.”
I offered her paper and a sharpie, “Do you want to write
something to burn? Either something to let go or something to invite in?”
“Ooooh! I’d love too!” She squealed and snatched up the
offered goods. She spent some time scribbling down her thoughts, her tongue
jutted out the side of her mouth as she gave all her focus to the activity. When
she completed the note, she folded the paper neatly in two and walked over to
the fire.
“Do you want to say something
before you burn?” Carri asked.
“No thank you,” the stranger replied, obviously not trusting
us with her innermost thoughts. She leaned over the fire and placed the neatly
folded paper into a hot spot, then leaned back and watched it burn, intent on
the flames.
“Thank you ladies for letting me share in your fire ceremony.”
And with that, she turned and left us.
“Wow! How different were they?” Rachel exclaimed. Two
extreme examples of women and ideas on fire ceremony brought to us by a purge bonfire.
We refilled our glasses and watched as the fire burned down,
giggling over the images these two women brought to mind. The last of the burn
glowed a bright orange, letting go of what no longer served us and ushering in
what may. The sun was beginning to set and the tide was coming in - it was just
about time to leave.