ZEN AND THE ART OF THE CAMPFIRE by Adam Scott Barentine

Among the many disparate, yet interconnected, aspects of life,
there are few more fundamental than the relationship
between Zen and a campfire.
Between peace and a crackle.
Between self-actualization and a flame.
There are many techniques to life,
as is in fire building.
Most of which will result
in the heat necessary to bring about
joy and warmth to the dark parts of our days.
But the path chosen to reach this goal
will tell you more about the maker
than the final blaze itself.

Some people are pilers.
They tend build atop their tinder
a wild, unhinged nest of kindling and fuel.
Radically jumping toward new desires,
in a pattern only they can read.
For a few, this is smothering.
Those poor artists, their fire banked,
lost somewhere between a poet and a painter.
Never allowing a spark to grow.
Eventually collapsing on themselves
into a cold mound of untapped potential.
For the rest, it works.
Their unique combination of skills and experience
erupt into a glow so bright you'd swear
they'd burn the forest down with them.

Other people need structure
and this group tends to divide into camps.
There is the unfortunately titled Teepee school
and the house of the Log Cabin.
Among a few other various
and less subscribed sub-groups
such as the Lean-to,
or the Star Fire,
or the Parallel Lay.
All of which are varying attempts
toward the same result;
an organized and sustainable flame.
These meticulous sorts prefer
the satisfaction of realistic expectations
over the uneven footing of an unsure future.
They have a plan, they execute it,
and are generally rewarded for their efforts
with accolades and toasty marshmallows.

Then there are those with no fire at all.
The unfortunate souls left shivering
in the dark of our cold and uncertain world.
Some have chosen this life
though rarely without cause.
Yet, some were born without matches or flint.
They were not afforded a warm life
lit by the orange glow of privilege.
And some still have faced gust after gust
of blowing rain and sleet onto their fire.
Until the embers simply could not
retain their heat any longer.

To those folks I say,
come sit with me.
Pull up a stump and join us
around the warm hearth of humanity
and let your feet toast a while.
Take a log, here's some charcoal.
I've gathered a few branches
to get us through the winter
and into balmy weather
where you won't have to work so hard.

That is why one builds a fire.
Because it was once a place of community.
A central location for us all to be together
and tell the stories of our shared history.
Let us never forget that
and never forget that no matter
how hot your fire burns
or how your logs are stacked,
that it was never meant for you alone.
That the greatness of a blaze
is determined not by its brightness
but by how many others it warms. 

 

Adam Scott Barentine is a Portland-based poet and artist whose primary pastime is overthinking. He's been an organizer of the Bigfoot Poetry Festival since 2023 and was featured at the Lan Su Chinese Garden's Steep in Words poetry series. Adam’s writing has been published in Fulshear Living, Katy's Future Stars, The Katy Times, Otherwise Engaged, The Pointed Circle, and was selected as part of the Birdhouse Books Poems in your Pocket collection.