The log hates the fire, hates the burning, the pain of transforming from solid to ash.
Ash that floats in the air, is free, is dispersed, is more than a log ever could be if it stayed a log.
I don’t want to stay a log. I hate the fire but I crave becoming ash.
I crave the sparks I create, the fire doesn’t exist without me fueling it.
I use the fire to transform. I don’t control the fire but I use the fire.
I use the fire to accomplish my goals.
This is the lesson, the fire, the sharp focus that comes from being in the fire, being the fuel for the fire.
I’m watching the patterns play out, watching the flames, letting myself break, crack, and be reduced to ash.
Reduced to ash means I’m free.
I’m floating, dispersed on the wind - not weaker, not even close. I’m bigger, larger, touching more things, being a part of more things.
The fire transforms. The fire brings freedom.
I’ve transformed to ash.