The ritual of walking across hot coals, or firewalking, is a spiritual act recorded as far back as the Iron Age, but comes from traditions much older than written records. It is a rite of passage, a test of strength, and of faith. One walks barefoot across a lengthy pad of red hot burning embers. Hopefully unburned. If done carefully, one’s feet will not burn. It is often assumed to be a great feat of the mind to manage to essentially walk in fire and escape unharmed. But there are physics which explain why it works. However, it is still a great feat of the mind. One must remain calm, firm, but not forceful. If you run across the coals, you will sink into the embers and burn your feet. If you walk too soon before the coals are ready, they will have too much water still in the wood and will burn your feet. If you have not carefully prepared the surface, nails or other metal may be present and will burn your feet.
So what do we think about that? When faced with this idea as a metaphor, what might we conclude? Where in our lives do we deliberately walk across hot coals? Where in our lives do we avoid it when we know that’s what’s best for us? When do we avoid challenge? All the time.
But what if we chose to do it on purpose? When have we decided for ourselves that it’s worth it to go through a little hardship now for the transformational power that experience holds for us? Who says you’re too old to go back to school? Too uncreative to make art? Too weak to climb that hill? Too stupid to know what to do next? What if, despite all these fears, we walked across them anyway? What if we simply agreed to the challenge that always comes with transformation?
“A scientific study conducted during a fire-walking ritual at the village of San Pedro Manrique, Spain in 2010, showed synchronized heart rate rhythms between performers of the firewalk and non-performing spectators. Notably, levels of synchronicity also depended on social proximity. This research suggests that there is a physiological foundation for collective religious rituals, through the alignment of emotional states, which strengthens group dynamics and forges a common identity amongst participants.”
Well, holy cow. It appears that there is an observable, physiological relationship occurring among people in heightened states together. At least in the instance of a firewalker and spectators there is a connection which makes their heart rates synchronize. Is that just the tip of the iceberg?
Is there a commonality which occurs not only during the ritual of firewalking between spectators and firewalkers, but also by the trials of daily life? When we see someone is going through a difficult time, how in-synch are we with them? Does this occur only in proximity or can it be virtual? Have you ever been truly comforted by someone simply liking your post on facebook about having to put your dog to sleep? Is it comforting to have someone do something as simple as clicking ‘like?’ Someone out there is saying, “Yeah, I feel you.” What does that feel like?
Loving something or someone is a transformative process. It changes us from the inside even thought it appears everything happens on the outside. Like firewalking. And also like firewalking, love can often feel like walking across hot coals. If it’s not done mindfully and thoughtfully, love can burn.
This country, too, is walking across hot coals right now. We are recalibrating our very nation. Everything is in a state of near constant change. How would a farmer in the 1940’s have reacted to the swift changes in technology we see today? What if he had to trade up his tractor at the same speed we trade up our smartphones? His head would spin. Our world changes at the speed of technology and in its wake are left those who struggle with change. The ground feels like so much unformed lava beneath us. If we stand still, we will burn our feet.
What can we do about our trials? How can we both assuage our grief when something bad happens while also remaining open to the very real transformation that occurs every single time it does?
The science as well as world spirituality suggest the same thing. Doing it together creates a synchronicity among us. Sharing our personal trials with each other synchronizes us one to another.
Think for a moment of your own trials, your own transformations. When things were at their worst, were you alone? I hope not. But it happens. In those moments, were you alone because others rejected you, or because you shut them out? How often do we exclude people from our own trials yet are ever so ready to be there for the trials of others? How much do we exclude our own well being while at the same time elevate the well being of everyone else? Whom do we invite to witness our walk across the hot coals of our lives? Whom do we allow in?
We walk across burning embers literally every day of our lives. Transformation is occurring at every moment. Do we allow transformation to drive us, or do we drive our transformations? We are partners with change, don’t forget it. Change will adapt to our ability to engage with it, coax it, understand and commune with it. Transformation does not happen in a vacuum. It happens with deliberate action, but also through apathy. Change will occur with or without your partnership.
If you have a mound of clay in front of you, it will eventually change on its own. It will dry out, become dust again. Or perhaps it will simply harden into a rock, incapable of providing any service except as a doorstop or a paperweight.
But what if you sat down and deliberately molded it into something beautiful? What if you faced the fire and boldly walked through it? What if you assumed that all transformation, when faced with courage and deep intentionality, could be good?
Have faith in yourself. Have faith in your neighbor. Witness each other’s walks through the challenging parts of our lives and allow others to witness your trials as well. If we synchronize our hearts with one another, what may come of it?
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