When I was a girl and I would go and stay with my mother at Greenham Common, it was always the campfires that fascinated me the most. I loved them. In the evenings I would snuggle into my mothers woolen caftan, almost disappearing entirely in the folds, and watch the fire slowly change its shape. The bed would always remain steady and constant, a glowing molten pool of orange, while the hypnotic flames on top danced and leaped about, sometimes high, sometimes low, but always slowly and determinedly consuming and twisting into strange forms the sawn up logs that created such a wild splash of sparks every time they were thrown on so casually by one of the circle of women that sat singing and talking and wishing an end to all war around the fire.
Sometimes I would have a small stick of my own to poke the fire with. My response to any exhortations to be careful would always be to chant “but I only want a little bit of fire on a stick.” I can remember repeating it over and over like a mantra, and my mother laughing, joking that I was her little pyromaniac. She was proud of my curiosity and my lack of fear – I knew that. I could sense it, and so I played up to it all the more, prodding the embers with my little twig untill the end of it caught alight and I could wave it around like a sparkler, writing my name through the air, mesmerised by the trails of light that streaked bright, then quickly faded in the nights black.
I still love fire. And in my free time when I’m not blogging, especially in the summer when the evenings are warm and still light, I can often be found in my back garden spinning poi. Poi are like long chains with wick wrapped around one end and leather straps which you hold onto at the other. The vast majority of the time mine are not lit. I simply practice with them as they are, watching my reflection in the large glass panes of my back door, trying to master new and ever more complicated moves and patterns. My next door neighbour often sits in her back garden too and we chat over the low fence – the children finally in bed – her sipping a glass of wine and smoking a cigarette, and me twirling and spinning my fire chains.
Occasionally though I get together with a certain friend when it’s properly dark. We fill empty food tins full of paraffin, lower the wick end of our poi into them, then set the poi alight, spinning them around our bodies, getting lost in the rhythmical roar of the fire whooshing past our ears. I sometimes find myself falling into an almost trance like state watching someone else spin fire, the trails of light so evocative for me, old not quite forgotten feelings of comfort mixed with strange excitement rising to the surface in the cold night air. I have even come to love the acrid smell of the paraffin.
This video here isn’t of me – it’s a man for starters – and I should probably also be clear that I’m not nearly as good as him either, but it gives you an idea of what fire poi performance looks like, how magical it is and how beautiful it looks. This is Zanoo, I found his video on YouTube. Enjoy.
Ms Gappy, you never cease to amaze me with your wild and wonderfil ways. You are a shaman(ness).
P.S. Have you got a light?
Ha! I don’t think you’d be quite so admiring if you saw me looking vaguely concussed after gracelessly clonking myself in the head! I do love it though. And I do happen to have a light as it so happens….
Brilliant! I love this and I love this about you. You are a woman of hidden talents.
Beautiful writing.
Thank you Deer Baby
Isn’t that video amazing!
How cool to have been at Greenham. Well, as spawn, but still… And fire chains, too? You surprise me, Ms Tales, you really do…
If I’m honest, most of my memories of Greenham are of being cold and a bit bored, but I did love the fires! I loved the demos too.
I live just a couple of miles from Greenham Common! It’s now being restored to heathland and we walk up there quite often. There’s a Peace Garden there which is dedicated to the peace camps. I read up about them a while ago as I have a fascination with the history of the area. Funny how it’s now history when I remember the demos taking place. The fire dancing looks great, fancy giving it a go myself.
Ah you’re from the same part of the world as me then! I haven’t seen the Peace Garden. Would be nice to go up there one day really.
I have been going back to check my favorite blogs to see if my comments are there. I know I commented on this post and it isn’t here. So I will leave another comment and come back and check it tomorrow. I wonder how long this has been happening. Hmm. This talent of yours is amazing. You are a surprising and skillful woman. I really like getting to know more about you.
Thank you Technobabe. I wonder why your previous comment didn’t appear….
I wouldn’t so much describe my fire spinning as a talent – I’m actually pretty cack-handed usually – it has more been honed through years and years of practice. I do love it though.
Wow – he’s fab. I bet you are too, you actually light them? I’m in awe. I’ve twirled a couple of bean bags about for 5 minutes so I can imagine how utterly entrancing it must be to spin poi well. There’s a photo I would love to take, a poi drawn ball of fire.
Isn’t he amazing? I am distinctly less amazing, but yes I do light them sometimes. And you’re right, it would make for amazing photos
Your mum was at Greenham Common? The blogosphere is such a rich place.
Isn’t it? Through this post (see Emily O’s comment above) I have discovered that the land at Greenham is now being restored to heathland, and that there is now a peace garden planted there. Would be nice to go up with my mum some time and see it.