Wrens & Fire

"(Meditate) as though your hair were on fire."

-Dogen Zoji

Like November leaves falling into a bonfire, the experience of life burns me up on contact. Sometimes I try to pretend that I am not on fire. Sometimes I try to pretend that the world is not on fire. I don't wanna get burned, after all...

I know that a time is coming, further down the road, when I'll look back on my existence with severe scrutiny. I know me. I want to be able to stand behind my actions and decisions. I would love to take pride in them. I would love to be able to say, "I've got my regrets, but most of the time I knew that the world was on fire, and most of the time I acted accordingly. I didn't argue much about green beans versus broccoli and I didn't constantly lie to myself or anybody else."

I know this moment of scrutiny is coming, because it insinuates itself in tiny ways into my daily life. When I wake up some mornings, I look in the bathroom mirror and all I see is fire. Fire in my hair. Fire on my teeth. Fire in the world of fires. I rub my eyes. Sometimes I just wish somebody would hose down all the fires. No more chaos. No more scrutiny. No more faux security or decisionmaking. No more strip malls and no more anger.

Other times, though, I'm down with the fire. The fire is a kitten, or my brother. It's a hilarious lizard with bulging eyes. It's a lively railroad yard, or a wren struggling to find a way out of my house, but that keeps smacking into windows, driving itself mad with terror. All I wanna do is cry for all those wrens stuck like that.