I found myself intrigued by my reaction. I became convinced that the art of fire dancing held the key to me overcoming my phobia. Within a few months I had found a mentor and began the process of learning to be a fire performer and a “safety” for other performers. I became proficient. But I didn’t erase the phobia; I learned how to disassociate enough so I could function safely with the fire. I didn’t feel the joy of spinning that so many talked about. I certainly didn’t love the sound of the fire roaring around me as it fought the wind resistance generated by spinning. What I felt was a sense of accomplishment and strength. I was proud that I had worked through my fear enough to be able to hold two fans, each with 5 wicks, or a 5 foot long staff with flaming ends. But I was also tense and focused and hypersensitive to whatever I perceived as the slightest lapse in safety.
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| 1st fire dance- Photo by G. Siano, 2006 |
When I was deemed ready to “light up” I was nervous, to say the least. Focusing on the safety protocols and preparations helped keep me from flying into a panic at what I was about to do. The the amount of will power required to continue after the completion of each step in the process to light up steadily increased. I felt like I was scraping the bottom of the barrel by the time my mentor stood in front of me with the lighter asking if I was ready. With a nod yes and the proffered end of my staff, it started.
From that point on, I regularly performed with fire for about 2 years. It got easier, though only to a point. I refused to learn to fire eating or breathing. While I didnt' refuse, I did avoid doing any contact work, even doing fire contact on another was difficult. Eventually, my performance partner convinced me to feed him fire as part of a sexy dessert skit for the Little Red Studio. The first time we did the rehearsal with fire, I just about threw up from the anxiety. I preferred to stick with using my fans, as then at least I could feel like I had full control over the movement of the fire. Spinning the staff was harder; the momentum made for more possibility to lose control of the fire.
Eventually, I came to the conclusion that performing with fore wasn't reducing the scope of my phobia. Nothing had changed in my relationship to fire outside of performing. And even then, I wasn't overcoming the fear, I was just managing it when I performed. So, I stopped spinning. I still kept my tools, as they were all custom made for me, and one of them by me. In the back of my head, I thought I would try again in the future.
Enter hypnosis. Jim is, among all his other talents, a certified hypnotherapist. Using hypnosis as a tool for resolving phobias is a fairly common thing and there are a number of different approaches to choose from based on the circumstances at hand. Regression was a good tool once we realized that we had to do it repeatedly in order to pull off the layers. Parts therapy ground the process to a halt, but was still illuminating. There was about a month with hard emotional work of processing and integrating everything I learned about where the phobia came from.
Last weekend,
Jim & I did a photo shoot we have been talking about for years. He has wanted to learn how to photograph fire performances, which takes a fair amount of practice. I was finally eager to spin for him, rather than just willing to help out. While we didn't get any art out of the shoot, I discovered that I truly had worked through the phobia: I felt joy, giggling bubbling up to the surface, as I worked the fire around me. The huge grin captured in the photos said it all.
Jim pointed out to me that he had never seen that look on my face before when I performed with fire. He said I always looked nervous and tense. And not just in the pre-show jitters kind of way. More like I was using every ounce of self control to not throw the fire tool as far away from me as possible. Looking back through all the photos I have of me performing, I see he is right; even in the photos where I am smiling, it's pasted on, lacking any joy in my eyes.
Now, I go forward. I want to increase my skill set to include contact staff. All the work I currently admire and skills I envy are in that arena. It means getting closer to the fire, and I am excited that I can start practicing without panic attacks.
