Burning the Evidence

Today I am grateful for saws, fire pits, and time. I am also appreciative of my sense of touch as I feel the warm humidity in this morning's air. 

On Sunday, we got some much-needed rain and a little wind from a passing thunderstorm. We discovered the next morning that a branch had come off one of the ash trees in the backyard. The tree is near a power line and another branch was still dangling precariously, so we contacted the local power company. They came and took down a couple more branches, but the clean up was left to us.

Yesterday became our clean-up day. Our son Sam did a bulk of chopping and sawing and then I took it from there, getting a fire going in the fire pit and feeding it for the next three hours, with some help from Darcy. There was more sawing to be done too. 

These are jobs I don't mind doing, especially when I don't feel rushed. I had time yesterday and appreciated watching the fire, my physical capabilities as I did the work, and seeing the pile of brush dwindle to nothing.

As we burned the evidence of downed branches, I pondered the handful of times I have burned the evidence of difficult emotional processing. Sometimes on my own, sometimes with the help of supportive recovery friends or trained professionals, I have put pen to paper, then put paper to fire.

Writing has always been my avenue for tapping into and bringing out emotions, both the joyful ones and the pain-filled ones. Much of my writing is only for me, some I share like I do here, and some serves the sole purpose of releasing anger and resentment, then grieving and healing. It shouldn't be seen by others. It needn't be seen again by me. So I burn the evidence and embrace the lighter feeling once the emotional debris is gone. 

Stormy weather and stormy times in our lives are no match for the power of fire, the power of transformation.