Quote for Today: John Mark Green

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Let’s burn our masks at midnight
and as flickering flames ascend,
under the witness of star-clouds,
let us vow to reclaim our true selves.
Done with hiding and weary of lying,
we’ll reconcile without and within.
Then, like naked squint-eyed newborns,
we’ll greet the glorious birth of dawn;
blinking at the blazing, wondrous colors
we somehow failed to notice before.”
John Mark Green

Image © Yoninah with CCLicense

The Soul in the Flame: Campfire Imps, Set 3

I have enjoyed discovering a menagerie of characters in these campfire photos from a night my husband and I spent near Great Sand Dunes National Park last summer. It’s a bit like picking figures and objects out of the clouds, but the contrast between light and darkness makes these images very dramatic.

Of all the characters I have described, this one is my absolute favorite, although The Boy Made of Wood (Pinocchio/Puck) is a very close second. There is something melancholic about this woman that I simply can’t resist. Here are two shots of her.

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The Soul in the Flame #1

She turns away in her strapless gown, wistful, a shimmering profile. Perhaps the partner she seeks has not arrived, or maybe she plays hard to get. Her hair curls playfully behind her ear- should we ask her to dance?

 

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The Soul in the Flame #2

 

Quote for Today: Robert E. Dunn

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There is a little furnace within every heart that burns pain. It is formed by a masonry of scars as tick by tick the tireless mechanics of life strip the innocence bestowed upon us at birth. There are some in whom life builds the furnace small and controllable, a passionate heat to burn off the losses, the harsh words and petty disappointments, leaving us cleaner for it. There are others. There are those whose innocence is assaulted early and with such brutality, that it goes beyond all the boundaries of deities and angels to stray into the world of unfettered evil. They build their furnaces differently.
Robert E. Dunn, The Red Highway

Public Domain Image via Pixabay

Party Scenes: Campfire Imps, Set 2

This is the second set of photos from a campfire near Great Sand Dunes National Park. As the fire gets rolling, the flame take up more intricate and bizarre dances, making for wilder personifications.

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#1 A Jealous Duck

An old ghoul, open mouthed and square jawed, applauds a dancing sea horse, completely enthralled. A prim and proper duck looks on from above, either thoroughly unimpressed or feeling left out. Even fire imp parties have their petty jealousies.

 

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#2 Fable

 

A monkey and a fox sit chatting, trying to decide which of them is the most noble. They want to know if anyone has seen that rascal Aesop, because someone stole their rucksack.

 

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#3 Tango

 

When this couple gets together the sparks fly, although I’d have to say she is hotter than he is. She however, believes there’s nothing like an old flame.

 

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#4 Cross Legged Girl

 

Come on, if you could sit cross legged in a fire, wouldn’t you?

 

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#5 The Orator and His Cat

 

Dramatic presentation is this guy’s forte. Look at that heroic claw! Unfortunately, he’s being upstaged by his cat, who likes to eat steak thrown at him by the audience.

 

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#6 Embers

 

Just a few bright, tired imps left on the dance floor. I don’t have the heart to poke them into life again.

 

Personified Flame: Campfire Imps, Set 1

This week I am sharing a series of photos which I took at our campfire near Great Sand Dunes National Park in southern Colorado last June. Looking at them, I not only remember a beautiful, cool summer night at just over 8,000 feet in elevation, but I enjoy making out figures and creatures in the flames. These images are like catnip for my imagination; I hope you enjoy them too!
 

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#1: Twilight: Jupiter and Venus Approach

 
Night falls like a cloudy blanket while the bright planets preside, named for ancient gods of power and love. My husband wants to douse our firewood with lighter fluid but I, raised in the country, long for a steadier, prettier blaze that doesn’t stink of chemicals. The mountain air is already forgetting its moisture; I remember making fire. The local fire imps are not pretentious; a few matches and some dry wood are enough for their escapades.

 

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#2: He Wore a Stovepipe Hat

 
Our first friendly imp appears wearing a stovepipe hat, his left hand flashing a peace sign- or is he making a fire bunny? No, it is only his pet snail. Dressed as he is, this dapper guest must be Uncle Sam or Honest Abe or else the duplicitous Cat in the Hat. And who was the surly rogue who fired a shot through his tall chapeau?

 

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#3 Have a Seat

 
This one is asking for you, this dark skinned prince in a white tunic and headscarf. Nonchalant, he sits in the fire pit, sipping a very dry and spicy martini. While you hesitate, he becomes a gleaming prairie dog sitting before a cash register. “Are you going to pay up?” he chirps. All this talk of payment reminds me too much of Mephistopheles. Such an imp surely puts on airs.

 

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#4 The Boy Made of Wood

 
Here’s a boy made of wood, his face smudged with ash and his nose lengthening suspiciously as he points into the distance, as if to blame some other soul for his mischievous handiwork. What lies has this rakish Pinocchio told tonight? Will there be more?

 

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#5 Shapeshifting

 
Soft boyish cheeks melt into air, revealing a shining, shapeshifting soul. Puck, your tail is showing!

 

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#6 Geisha

 
The last deep colors of sunset conjure forth a molten geisha, lovely and untouchable. Her beauty appears delicate, but she would burn you without remorse.

 

Did you see something different? I’d love to know!  I’ll have more fire imps for you soon!

Quote for Today: Ray Bradbury

It was a pleasure to burn.
 

It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed. With the brass nozzle in his fists, with this great python spitting its venomous kerosene upon the world, the blood pounded in his head, and his hands were the hands of some amazing conductor playing all the symphonies of blazing and burning to bring down the tatters and charcoal ruins of history. With his symbolic helmet numbered 451 on his stolid head, and his eyes all orange flame with the thought of what came next, he flicked the igniter and the house jumped up in a gorging fire that burned the evening sky red and yellow and black. He strode in a swarm of fireflies. He wanted above all, like the old joke, to shove a marshmallow on a stick in the furnace, while the flapping pigeon-winged books died on the porch and lawn of the house. While the books went up in sparkling whirls and blew away on a wind turned dark with burning.
Ray BradburyFahrenheit 451

 

Quote for Today: Paul Dermée

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Is it a world in the making
that turns as it whistles to the depths of my being
It is burning
Suppose it were to appear
A bleeding rosary at the window
a sun setting on the marshlands

 

Paul Dermée, “The Silver Clasp”, The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
Kuwaiti oil fires, Gulf War, 1991, Public Domain Image by Jonas Jordan, US Army Corps of Engineers