Fire
Dead-eyed notes on existence from a sleepless night
Last week (or was it the week before?) I watched as a house burned to the ground.
We stood on the street, a motley crew in pyjamas and yesterday’s clothes, gaping as the flames scratched the acrid, black air. Air that rained down on us in sooty flakes and burned our throats.
The inferno moved shockingly quickly, leaping from house to house- it travels through the lofts apparently. As we stood under the full moon we wondered how far it would go, what could have caused it, whether everyone was safe.
By then we were surrounded. Flashing lights and running boots all moving with practised urgency. And very soon jets of water were pouring in from every side; no hosepipe ban for them. A flood of hands outstretched.
As we watched, we introduced ourselves and shared what number house we were. All of us thanking our lucky stars that it was not our home that was ablaze yet.
But of course it was. It is.
As this one house burned we experienced the hottest week in the world for over 100,000 years.
And yet, far from pouring on water or waking our neighbours, we are complaining of the disruption before turning over and going back to sleep.
I often have insomnia. Sometimes it is hormonal, sometimes it is because I have been too busy, too stimulated. And other times it is simply because there are too many thoughts and feeling for my body to contain.
The word “woke” has been weaponised and demonised to represent a kind of liberal madness when in reality it just refers to the modest attempt to keep one’s eyes open, to be awake to injustice. Perhaps the more accurate word for this condition is insomnia. One where the injustices and immaturities and sadnesses of our world make it difficult to sleep.
Many of us on the street commented that we were meeting each other for the first time. A shared threat had allowed us to cross a threshold and connect where we hadn’t before. We shared news and handed out masks and encouraged each other to take care.
Our house is on fire. And there are no emergency exits. No fire drills have been done. No one is coming to save us.
As the flames get hotter we will still have choices. We can choose to die sleeping, or we can choose to open our eyes, take it in and connect with one another, care for one another. THIS is the fire that needs fanning.