By Sam Forti:

The Centre Flame
 There is something eternally magical about fire. The way it dances; flicking and twisting like impassioned pixies caught up in a display of mischief and romance. The way it speaks in it's own mysterious tongue, filled with crackles, hisses, and pops. The way it smells, and the way it feels, so warm on the skin of those who sit with it. Fire is something that we are all drawn to. It is something that we, especially as children, find fascinating, and comforting. 
 A central fire has been a part of the human culture for thousands of years. It has cooked our food, prepared our tools, warmed us, and protected us; forged the way for modern industry, and become a permanent gathering place for celebration, comfort, and safety. In this way, it has transcended itself and become more than just a tool. Instead, it has become the loving arms of a grandparent sharing warmth and tall tales to anyone who will sit with it.
 I love to gather around a fire. It creates a sort of community that is difficult to find anywhere else, and when I think about that communal fire my mind is always drawn to the nights I have spent teaching primitive living skills in the Cascade Mountains just outside of Ashland, Oregon. When a group of new students comes each week we get a variety of people from all over the country. We have experienced woodsmen toting a child who they hope will share their love of the wilderness. Then, sometimes there are the students who are entirely inexperienced, but curious about the great outdoors, and often we have students who are afraid of the dark, wary about the idea of sleeping in the forest with insects and strange nighttime sounds. With so many backgrounds and personalities it seems a wonder that everyone can leave at the end of a week connected to a new community that they will always carry with them. This feeling of connectedness does not come immediately however. Instead, it comes slowly as they face new challenges together each day, and bond by the light of a fire crafted by hand.
 These evenings begin at dusk just as the sun is ready to disappear behind the western side of the mountain. At first everyone is noisy, loud with stories about their day, but as they take their seats around the fire they gradually grow quite as an instructor using a cedar bow-drill kit fills the air with sweet smoke and the squeal of spinning wood. Then, as the coal drops into a notch carved into the kit's hearth board the audience is silent while they watch him nurse the new life with tender breath. The coal is placed into a nest of shredded bark and fluff where, with the aid of the instructor, it is born into flame.   Finally, the burning bundle is placed in a tipi in the center of the fire pit and as it begins to burn the audience erupts in cheers and laughter. From this moment onward, everyone around the fire is connected for a short while. Gathered up in its warmth and protective circle of light. In this space people grow, made whole for a while by good stories, good music and a good laugh.
 Around a good fire, everyone is equal, and everyone is held with respect.
 Around a good fire, people grow, from laughter, and sometimes tears.
 Around a good fire everyone is heard.
 However, most importantly, around a good fire everyone is connected.
Held together by warmth and dancing lights.
 Fire is transportable space, always speaking, always dancing.
A home away from home