Thank Goodness for Campfires

Thank goodness for campfires! What is there about a campfire, firepit, or fire in the fireplace as the weather snaps? It lifts the heart, warms the soul, draws you in, radiates contentment. For just one moment, the world does not matter; it is somehow put back to order, things just as they should be.

This season has arrived. My mind travels backwards to early days in the woods, scouting, family camping trips, hikes, and going up north with friends. The years blend, but some trips stick out: sudden encounters with wildlife – raccoons and skunks, deer and moose, the last memorable.

There was the raccoon in a downpour that I escorted from the tent door, only to realize he was a skunk; mule deer in Glacier National Park we thought was a grizzly but was not (relief). There was the moose that met me nose-to-nose coming around a cabin corner at 12, up at Kakadjo (Maine).

Some trips we slept under the stars, but most were under a tent flap. Each trip had a campfire, the center of everything. We cooked on it, warmed at it, dried stuff out over it, gazed at it without focus.

So, what is it about a campfire, firepit, or fireplace? Imagine if we could invite all our friends and family, a few strangers, a few more. You can almost imagine solving the world’s problems. Why do the dancing flames and occasional pops (especially with cedar) lighten hearts and quiet nerves?

My own guess is that it all goes back a million years, when fire was the source of everything: coziness, heat, light, security, community – and we still feel that primordial comfort and connectivity around a fire now, because it is in our being, something we cannot escape.

Sometimes, I wonder, gazing into a fireplace or campfire, if there is not an intergenerational connection, a secret of sorts, locked up in those dancing flames, a quiet message still being conveyed, at least felt, over thousands of years, a common experience that we are living.

Sometimes I wonder – being a fan of Jack London and Kenneth Robert’s fiction – whether we share more than we know with our predecessors, could perhaps relearn life, stillness and peace, maybe get re-grounded and more reflective by sitting more often at a crackling, murmuring fireplace.

The bottom line is simple. There is a wonder in campfires, firepits, and fireplaces. It pops up each fall, not profound but profoundly uplifting. As the world whizzes by, spins us around, leaves us disoriented, anxious, or wondering which way is up, there is a place we can go for peace, where a thousand generations of humanity have gone, where tranquility lives. Thank goodness for campfires!