Fire in the Jungle

I was walking through a tropical forest when I stumbled upon a fire. No sign of human life anywhere else. The fire was healthy, its flames three feet high. But it did not scorch the vegetation around it. Waxy, springy growth covered the forest floor. I approached the fire and noticed an iridescent quality to it. Somehow, every hue within imagination flickered within the flames like a holographic rainbow. My body buzzed. The closer I got to the fire, the tighter the buzz in my body. I felt a gentle surge of glowing warmth in my blood. I began to float an inch above the ground.

Was this the fountain of youth?

In a flash, I remembered the empty jar I had in my shoulder bag. I was well-aware of the ridiculousness of the idea, but I felt the urge to try anyway. I opened the lid and swiped the jar across the middle of the fire. I slammed the lid shut and tucked the jar of magic into my bag. I closed my eyes, my body gently pulsing. Color filled the back of my eyelids. Living, breathing color coagulated into delicately woven shapes. Glistening mandalas that folded into themselves before being born again, again, and again. I thought about making the fire bigger.

I opened my eyes and rushed around the surrounding jungle. I came back to the fire with a bundle of twigs and some small sticks. I squatted down and carefully added the fuel to the fire. The flame exhaled and its light diminished momentarily. I shuffled around to the other side of the flame and added more material. Again, the flame shuddered and died down. In a panic I threw everything I gathered onto the fire - desperate for the healing flames to wash my veins once more. The fire died to a few smoldering stumps.

I checked my bag for the jar, and noticed the iridescent glow still within the walls of the glass. At least I had that. I held the jar in my hands and started walking back the way I came. The ribbon of color in the jar grew dull, its undulating slowed. With each step I took, the color disappeared. I squeezed the jar tightly into my chest, fiending for the feeling I had felt earlier. The jar shattered, the color gone forever.

My hands dripped with blood as I dropped to my knees and wailed. I grasped at my hair and cursed myself for letting the color get away. I knew I would never feel it again. I stood up and looked over my shoulder, wondering if the remains of the fire would be there for me to remember.

I walked back to the place where I discovered the fire, and only found a pile of ash. Out of the corner of my eye, I got a glimpse of something sitting at my right foot. A person sat in perfect lotus, eyes gently closed. I jumped away from them, frightened by the way they seemed to materialize without me noticing. I stared at their gently-resting face, and my heart raced.

I bent down to look closer at the person. An amber hue flickered across their face. An iridescent spectrum of color coruscated across their eyelids, like fish scales under the midday sun. I held my breath, unable to believe what I was seeing. The ashes of the fire brushed at my ankles.

“You suffocate it by trying to command it.”

I jolted back and gasped, suddenly remembered how long I had been holding my breath. I explained that I simply wanted to be healed, and to take what I felt to the rest of the world.

“Look at me. Do I rush around the jungle, grabbing sticks and leaves in an effort to command the fire to burn? Yet still, the fire burns.”

“Do I carry a bottle with me and conquer the color? I don’t. Still, I sit washed in its glory.”

I sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sound of the jungle. The white ash glowed red, breathing slowly in and out with its deep hue. I asked them how they kept the fire alive.

“I am a vast, empty vessel, unencumbered by the residue of daily attachments. Without darkness, there can be no light. Without a blank screen, there is nothing for the color to project itself onto.”

I found part of myself resisting that answer, insisting that this person just tell me the steps. But a small part of me seemed to understand. I decided to compromise with these two thoughts, and politely asked for clarification. But when I went to speak, my voice was nowhere to be found.

“It will be.”