Look, Ma, no Phobia! (Pt. 1)

As a child, I lived through numerous experiences where I was scared by fire and explosions. A phobia developed around being burned or fire going out of control. I had a lot of shame wrapped up in being scared of fire. I felt it was a failing that I was irrationally scared of something, that while dangerous, was normally controlled and so useful. People would tell me it was an understandable fear, and then be shocked to find out that pulling something out of the oven would take me to to the point of panic or that I was incapable of making barbecue.



I managed quite nicely in avoiding pushing against the phobia too often. When camping, I would stand with my back to the inevitable fire, being only near enough to keep myself warm. Occasionally, I would I find myself lamenting that I had to rely on others to make me barbecue.  I managed to survive living two years in a house with a fireplace without having a nervous breakdown. Finding the condo with a gas fireplace turned out to be a great compromise between my fear and my then partner's love of having a fireplace in the home. I would always end up stressed out, often crying, on the Fourth of July; hating the family nature of the day that made my presence a requirement.



In the fall of 2000, during a First Thursday ArtWalk, I saw my first fire performance with my dear friend Ken. The woman was spinning poi (basically flaming balls on the ends of chain) and dancing around. Ken was enraptured and I was uncomfortable, even from our vantage point over 100 feet away. As she neared the end of her burn time, she knelt down and arched backward, spinning the poi in front of her body, arms outstretched and close together so that the fire looked to be tickling at her torso. As my panic rose, she stopped spinning and trailed the poi up her body and licked at the flame. I lost all semblance of control, spinning around, burst into tears and speed-walked away from the sight.



Ken dove head long into the fire arts. He learned in any how to spin staff, wield flaming whips and swords, among many other tools. He would kindly not mention details of what he was doing out of respect for my distress over the subject. 4 years later, he emailed me a video link saying that he was immensely pleased with himself and that while he knew I wasn't into it, he wanted to show me what he was doing. The video was him dancing with a woman while he was spinning a fire staff and she was dancing with fire bowls. And I found myself being turned on. By the beauty, by the artistry, by the chemistry between them. I immediately called him. "I can't believe that you just turned me on with fire!"