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On Fire
by Miriam Stark
"The mind is on fire, thoughts are on fire. Mind-consciousness and the impressions received by the mind, and the sensations that arise from the impressions that the mind receives - these too are on fire." *
He came close to her. Looked at her briefly and casually asked about her plans after the ceremony. She passed the question to her husband who, standing to her right, was involved in a conversation with an old man. "Do you have any suggestions?"
"Yeah, maybe we could have a campfire together up on the mountain, or by the pond?" The young man answered in his blasé way. "Oh, that sounds great!" The husband and wife gladly agreed.
"A campfire then?" The man confirmed and then disappeared into the darkness falling upon the temple and the world around.
They were sitting by the fire. By the pond. With the stars playing witness to their gathering. Watching the dance of the flames - from here to eternity. She caught several of the young man’s glimpses. His dark eyes were powerfully focused. On her. They were sharp and impenetrable eyes. Eyes that pierced. She suddenly looked away, frightened. What was she afraid of? She glanced into her husband’s face, into his peaceful and unaware expression. No alarm. So, was it all in her mind? For a long time she studied the logs and their charred remains. She played with ashes around her feet.
Then she found herself telling a story, and as she was sharing it, she glanced into the faces of those gathered around, and, there again, she met the man’s dark eyes piercing through her body. Insistently, subtly, without a slightest motion. "It’s all in my head!" She told herself, then bravely met his gaze. Somewhere above the campfire’s heart, their glances crossed. Soon the conversation became a dance of craving minds, hungry spirits and starved eyes.
Suddenly the man looked away. She felt deserted. His attention flattered her. It pleased her womanly desire, which she thought she had buried along with the pronouncement of the marriage vows. But now she was feeling it again, resurfacing, melting with her blood, circulating over her body. He added more wood into the fire. She watched him. He was fully absorbed in his action. The flames regained their vigor and began another dance. Now the woman realized that she wanted to guide these eyes into her refreshed blood. The sparks of fire were begging to become adopted by their powerful friends - the stars. In vain. They would vanish half way to heaven. Into the starry night.
"To watch the dance of flames and to resist it - who can do that?" She justified the night to herself the following morning. She did not say a word to her husband, feeling guilty of an unexplained crime.
"And with what are they on fire? With the fire of greed, with the fire of resentment, with the fire of infatuation; with birth, old age and death, with sorrow and lamentation, with misery and grief and despair they are on fire." *
* From the Buddha’s Fire Sermon
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