Litha - Element of Fire

(Trigger Warning: Fire imagery)

On Wednesday near 1pm as I darted from one air-conditioned venue to another, I took just a moment to acknowledge the sun standing at its zenith, dead south, pouring out heat of such intensity that even being outside for a few minutes was difficult. In the evening, I stood on the roof of my building and watched the sun set, appreciating the temperatures that were still hot but seemed tremendously cooler by comparison. The Element of Fire had made its presence known on the summer solstice.

This is the next solar festival, or quarter day, in the Wiccan calendar, and in keeping with my theme for this time around the Wheel of the Year, I want to explore the Element of Fire, its connections with the summer solstice, or Litha, as it is called in Wicca, and the symbolic representations of fire used in Wiccan ritual and in Tarot. ^[1]

On the whole, the correspondence between summer and Fire is a fairly straightforward metaphorical connection: summer is usually when we experience the hottest part of the year, and one of fire's most obvious characteristics is its intense heat production.^[2] Fire also provides light, and this is the climax of the "light" part of the year. The solstice is the peak of the Sun's energy, the longest days and shortest nights. Concentrating on Fire at this point on the Wheel can help us understand all the changes that have taken place since the year started and begin to prepare ourselves for reaping the results as we move into the waning light and the main harvest season of the year.

These qualities of change and transformation, where Fire represents both destruction and potential renewal, are why the tool I use to represent the Element of Fire is a knife. This is not the attribution that most Wiccans use, although it is not uncommon, either. To understand why most Wiccans associate blades with Air, we have to look at Tarot.

I mentioned back in the Ostara piece on the Element of Air that most Tarot decks based on the Rider-Waite-Smith prototype associate the suit of Swords with the Element of Air, and the suit of Wands with the Element of Fire, but there is evidence that this was a "blind," or deliberate inaccuracy, inserted in the Tarot decks intended for public consumption by the creators in order to honor those creators' vows of secrecy to the Golden Dawn. Whether or not it was a blind, the original RWS deck became influential in English-speaking countries, so most Tarot decks continue to use those associations, although a minority use the reversed Swords - Fire and Wands - Air associations.

I don't follow the Golden Dawn, so for me this is mostly a matter of why most Tarot symbolism differs from what I use in my own rituals. I see wands, or their larger versions, staves or rods, as a way of directing intention that has a lot to do with intellectual choice and reason. The wand's larger cousin, a staff or rod, can be used to symbolize authority based on knowledge and experience, both parts of the intellectual domain of Air. Personally, my favorite version of a wand is a pen, and since Air is associated with language, that supports my association of wands with Air. I enjoy using fountain pens, whose very design reminds me that historically quill pens were made from feathers, certainly a symbol of Air, and this cements the association.

On the other hand, to me any blade used in ritual - whether a sword or a knife - symbolizes and embodies separating, changing, and transforming in ways that are the essence of Fire. Along the same lines, it is impossible to make metal blades without fire. Not just warmth or heat but the real blazing inferno of a forge is required to render rocks into sharp steel. The product itself is the most dangerous of the Witch's tools: hurting oneself with a pen is generally unlikely, but simple carelessness with a small blade can easily cause serious injury.^[3] Similarly, fire is inherently dangerous: when in balance or being managed, it is useful and even life-giving, but without serious supervision, it will wreak a frighteningly self-perpetuating kind of destruction. Windstorms, floods, and landslides are all dangerous, but they typically represent an unusual behavior of the Element and will exhaust themselves eventually: the landslide has only so much material to move, as the water floods higher areas it loses energy, and whirlwinds are slowed by the obstacles they encounter. On the other hand, the more fire consumes, the more energy it has and the more it spreads itself, growing rather than diminishing.

But when it exhausts itself, the transient heat and light disappear along with the flames. In this way it's also the most ephemeral of the Elements, another example of its tendency to go to extremes. All of this can make Fire both an attractive Element and one that is hard to relate to. While we depend on it as a tool, we don't want to experience it ourselves. The kind of transformation that Fire as an Element represents is often frightening and something we do not want to undergo: dramatic transformations are not easy, even when they are less drastic or sudden than that of fuel consumed in a conflagration.

But Fire reminds us that we have to accept these situations as part of life. In every season, life exists in a constant state of rebirth. While some transformations are harder or more sudden than others, nothing is perfectly static. Connecting with and celebrating Fire can help us understand that. In particular, at this turning point of the year it can help us prepare for the transition to autumn and harvest and exemplify the tools to cope with that season and its transformations.

Summer is what connects the seed of life created through interaction to the coming harvest, and the heat and light of summer help bring that to fruition. When those developments are ready, we have to move into reaping, in the way that harvesting transforms what was a growing plant into the very bread of life. This process requires the Element of Fire at each and every step, in both the blade that cuts the stalks and the warmth that helps a loaf rise. The scythe's blade and the hearthfire are interconnected manifestations of the Element of Fire, and the duality of their symbolisms is a good representation of the Element which goes to extremes but also unifies them.

In this season, as we see the sun at its pinnacle, we experience transformation whether we want it or not. Perhaps the Element of Fire can help us learn to value the transient and the living, to cope with the changes inherent in life, and to gather the results of our earlier work as we go forward. How are you in transition - either slow or speedy - at this solstice?

--Literata

---

^[1] The solar holidays are the equinoxes and solstices, called the quarter days. The previous one was Ostara. These alternate with the cross-quarter days which are derived from Celtic fire festivals; the last Sabbat was the cross-quarter day of Beltane. In the Southern Hemisphere, it is currently the time of the winter solstice, Yule, which corresponds with the Element of Earth. I'll contrast these pairings and discuss how they interact in an upcoming piece.↩

^[2] Since a recent thread was talking about food associations, it's also worth pointing out the American tradition of having cook-outs centering on food cooked over (large, often charcoal) open flames. There's also a broader tradition of serving cool or cold foods as a counter to the season's climate. The juxtaposition of these points to another feature of the Element of Fire: the tendency to go to extremes, including opposing extremes simultaneously.↩

^[3] These are not the only traditional Witch's tools; more will be discussed with the other Elements, and exactly what is "traditional" depends on which tradition one ascribes to as well.↩

---

 

The Slacktiverse is a community blog. Content reflects the individual opinions of the contributors. We welcome disagreement in the comment threads, and invite anyone who wishes to present an alternative interpretation of a situation to write and submit a post.

Comments

[The Board Administration Team]

From Literata:

I'm going to be incommunicado from 22 June to 28 June.

[Sixwing]

I am really enjoying this series. Thanks, Literata.

Thank you also, whoever thought to put the fire imagery TW on this.

Windstorms, floods, and landslides are all dangerous, but they typically represent an unusual behavior of the Element and will exhaust themselves eventually: the landslide has only so much material to move, as the water floods higher areas it loses energy, and whirlwinds are slowed by the obstacles they encounter. On the other hand, the more fire consumes, the more energy it has and the more it spreads itself, growing rather than diminishing.

I'm going to take this home and chew on it.

Warning: endangerment by fire.

Midsummer has a different association for me, being wildfire season. A fire near my town has burned now for 40 days, and shows no sign of stopping - as we get into dry thunderstorms and heavy winds, it's likely only to get bigger.

This happened ten years ago, and was one of the most horrifying things I've lived through - the town was enclosed on three sides by flame, and it was easy to think this is it, we're all going to burn. I tried to find a photo - there was an iconic one going around for a while, of a firestorm vortex ripping across a depleted lakebed - but it doesn't seem to be available any more.

But the renewal after the fire has been amazing. I know it's a cliche, great abundance coming after great destruction. It's been ten years, and the forest will not be the same in my lifetime, but seeing all the aspens and fireweeds and small leafy things coming up through the blackened ground is quite something. This is how my area refreshes itself: it burns ferociously, rarely, and then it builds and builds until it's so thick that it burns again. If anything, humankind interrupted the cycle and made the fires worse by preventing them.

We tried to control fire, in one of its most extreme manifestations, and we failed. Maybe there's something to learn here.

[Laiima]

@Literata, that was rather spectacular. And as a Fire sign, it really resonated. So much so that I think I need to add a link for it to the blog post I just wrote.

@Sixwing, I have not lived through wildfires, or any kind of fire that threatened houses. But I have participated in 2 controlled burns. During one, the fire suddenly changed course and headed right for me - I've never felt as alive and aware of my environment as I did trying to get out of the way in time to save my own life.

Last summer I read a fascinating book about wildfires in California and Zen monks of all things - Fire Monks: Zen Mind Meets Wildfire at the Gates of Tassajara, written by Colleen Morton Busch. I recommend it.

[Froborr]

Hmm... good article, interesting about the Tarot symbolism, but... Nope, sorry, still hate summer.

It's evil. Evil I tell you! Eeeeeevvvvillllll!!

[Nick Kiddle]

//Along the same lines, it is impossible to make metal blades without fire. Not just warmth or heat but the real blazing inferno of a forge is required to render rocks into sharp steel.//

I had the opportunity to do some blacksmithing earlier this month, which was one of the most fun things ever for someone who loves iron and has a slightly unhealthy fascination with fire. Actually, blacksmithing kind of unites all the classical Elements: earth supplies the metal, air keeps the fire in the right state to provide heat, water quenches the work when the shaping is done. I have no idea how this fits in anywhere, but like I said, blacksmithing was great fun and I wanted to share.

[lonespark]

hurting oneself with a pen is generally unlikely

In the physical sense, sure, but there's a lot of harm done with pens...

[lonespark]

On the other hand, the more fire consumes, the more energy it has and the more it spreads itself, growing rather than diminishing.

I'm having a hard time picturing this, maybe because I'm used to deserts and even though fire runs wild and causes harm, it tends to run out of stuff to burn... And I'm having a hard time with the flood thing, too, because I'm picturing a flood breaching a dam, or a bank, or a pass, or a levy, and spreading out to cause destruction more widely. Hmmmm.

[lonespark]

This is how my area refreshes itself: it burns ferociously, rarely, and then it builds and builds until it's so thick that it burns again. If anything, humankind interrupted the cycle and made the fires worse by preventing them.

We tried to control fire, in one of its most extreme manifestations, and we failed. Maybe there's something to learn here.

Thanks for your contribution here, sixwing. I have certainly known fire like this, in the western U.S., and I do think it's a lesson we keep learning. I think there are similar lessons about water, where there are no easy answers but a slow gaining (and re-gaining) of wisdom.

[lonespark]

blacksmithing kind of unites all the classical Elements: earth supplies the metal, air keeps the fire in the right state to provide heat, water quenches the work when the shaping is done.

That is really something to think on, thanks, Nick. It applies more widely, to a lot of things we build and make, but usually the manufacturing process is less primal...

[Izzy]

TW: Danger from fire.

Lovely post!

I've identified pretty strongly with the element of fire for roughly ten years now. When I was younger, the capacity for destruction appealed to me a fair amount: I was very into crushing my enemies (at least mentally/socially) and also fairly active in martial arts, liked feeling that I could kick ass, and so forth. I haven't exactly lost those tendencies as I've gotten older, but I have become more drawn to fire as a symbol of change and transformation, and also of creativity and passion. I also like the idea of fire that endures even when it isn't obvious, as with banked embers.

My connection is a little similar to Sixwing's: I grew up in the backwoods of Southern California, on the border of the Los Padres National Forest, and summer was fire season. Once we were past mid-June or so, there was generally a wildfire somewhere every few weeks--everything dried out pretty quickly at that point, and the Santa Ana winds (which Wiki says happen later in the year, so either I'm remembering wonkily or they were something slightly different) made things, er, interesting.I remember the air smelling faintly smoky at least a few times a month, and seeing the Forest Service planes flying over a fair bit.

I was scared the first few years I was there, anxiety disorder being as awesome as it is, even though we never had anything come close enough to us to be dangerous--most of the fires stayed in the wilderness. Then, when I was in fifth grade, the school where Dad worked and we lived got evacuated*. Twice, in fact: we left, we went back, and then we left again, the morning after my eleventh birthday. I remember waking up fairly early, looking out the bathroom dinner, and seeing this horseshoe-shape of flames on the mountains off in the distance.

The first time was terrifying. The second time I was way calmer--and, being eleven, also thrilled that we got to stay in a hotel! For a week! With a pool and cable!--and after that, I got really sanguine about the whole thing. Careful, but it didn't bug me. In fact, the bird sanctuary at my school caught fire my sophomore year, and you could tell the SoCal students by the way we looked, said "Meh, whatever," and wandered off to speculate on whether they'd let us move into a boys' dorm if ours burned down**. (Often, since it was December, to compose callous filk songs. In my defense, "Freshmen roasting on an open fire" scans well enough to be an irresistible temptation when I was fifteen.)

So...me and fire, yeah. ;)

This solstice is a pretty eventful one. Not the date itself, which I mostly celebrated by purchasing a lot of ice cream and then lying in a dark room, but: tomorrow I'm taking my oaths to various gods as an initiate of my particular magical/religious practices. Boyfriend and I are breaking up mid-July, and I have been in a continuous state of Quantum Moving for the last week or two. getting the heavy stuff done (hopefully) sometime next week via paying a couple burly people with a truck. I'm talking with my editor about a new direction for future books, my parents have just retired and moved a few states south, a bunch of people at my job have left or given notice...and I've learned that I really like dark chocolate.

Plus various amounts of social drama, which was wicked traumatic at the time but which, in--I hope--the aftermath, has let me know who my real friends are and that they are awesome and have my back, as I hope I'll have theirs if need be. I knew that before, but I hadn't really appreciated it at the time. (The TVTropes Fire Forged Friends entry comes to mind as a pun, but that involves people who weren't friends to start with.)

So. Transformation. Yeah. ;)

*Weird story: we lived "next door" to Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch, insofar as "next door" meant "several acres of land away"--so we got to see them evacuating the animals from his private zoo. Eventful!
**Which would not have happened. Efficient firefighters aside, my dorm was one of those hideous seventies-era buildings made of cinderblock and stucco. We estimated that, if the roof caught, we'd have graduated by the time we were in any danger.

[Amaryllis]

Lovely work again, Literata.

As usual, the poets have said it better than I can.

qualities of change and transformation, where Fire represents both destruction and potential renewal

In Jersey City, on Tonnelle Avenue,
the House of Beauty is burning.
...
All things by nature, wrote Virgil, are ready to get worse;
no surprise, then, that the House of Beauty is burning.
...

Though what ever happens, however far
these fires proceed, reducing history to powder,
what ever the House of Beauty made is untouchable now;
nothing can undo so many heads made lovely
or at least acceptable, so much shapelessness
given what are called permanents, though nothing holds
a fixed form. Bring on the flames,
what does it matter if the house is burning?

Propose a new beauty, perennially unhoused:
neither the lost things nor the fire itself,
but the objects in their dresses of disaster,
anything clothed in its own passage:
padded vinyl chair burst into smoky tongues,
Lucite helmet sagged to a new version of its dome.
Our black bridge, a charred rainbow on iron legs,
two ruby eyes glowering from its crown.
If beauty is burning, what could you save?
The House of Beauty is a house of flames.

-Mark Doty, from"House of Beauty"

[Amaryllis]

@TBAT: if you think that needs a "Fire Imagery" TW, please add it.

@Froborr: Nope, sorry, still hate summer.

It's evil. Evil I tell you! Eeeeeevvvvillllll!!
Hey, it's better than winter!
(I love summer even when it makes me uncomfortable. I appreciate winter aesthetically, but everything is just harder in the winter.)

Nick: blacksmithing kind of unites all the classical Elements: earth supplies the metal, air keeps the fire in the right state to provide heat, water quenches the work when the shaping is done.
That's lovely too, Nick. I hadn't thought of it that way before. But of course, blacksmiths are traditionally magic workers!

My husband has a small forge & anvil in the yard, so I proudly display my hand-forged barbecue skewers and twisted-handle spoons and such.

According to a Guardian Poem-of-the-week article, smiths are called "burnwaters" because they dip hot metal in water. It's a very cool poem, although the poet is not complimentary about the noise of the forge.

[Amaryllis]

How are you in transition - either slow or speedy - at this solstice?

Well, my daughter is planning to move out soon. This is going to be... interesting.

Internally, though, I'm feeling kind of stuck and static.

"After Reading Tu Fu, I Go Outside to the Dwarf Orchard"

East of me, west of me, full summer.
How deeper than elsewhere the dusk is in your own yard.
Birds fly back and forth across the lawn
looking for home
As night drifts up like a little boat.

Day after day, I become of less use to myself.
Like this mockingbird,
I flit from one thing to the next.
What do I have to look forward to at fifty-four?
Tomorrow is dark.
Day-after-tomorrow is darker still.

The sky dogs are whimpering.
Fireflies are dragging the hush of evening
up from the damp grass.
Into the world's tumult, into the chaos of every day,
Go quietly, quietly.

- Charles Wright

And now it's back to unpoetical Saturday chores.

[Caretaker of Cats]

"How are you in transition - either slow or speedy - at this solstice?"

Hmm. Well, plus or minus a few days...

I signed a lease for a new apartment. My current apartment receives insufficient sunlight and is next to a sequence of construction projects that means I've listened to nearly non-stop truck-backing-up beeping for the past two years with little sign of stopping in the immediate future. The new unit has sunlight, windows on both sides of the building to admit a cross-breeze, and I have a friend in the apartment complex already. I am looking forward to this move very much.

I switched tracks in my graduate program to an area of specialization that I'm more suited for. I had been stuck on something that was producing nothing but panic attacks, now I can see forwards.

We mourned our dead. My great aunt and uncle died within six weeks of each other and we had the memorial service on their 66th wedding anniversary according to their wishes. While the memorial service itself was a Christian ceremony that I couldn't relate to well personally, it was well done, and the wake was full of laughter. Which brings me to fire.

TW: Fire imagery (no injuries)

My sister and I held a bonfire party after the wake. For her it was just a party, but I needed a bonfire for my mourning cycle. I'm a somewhat ritualistic atheist, and some moments are best marked by fire. We had brush pile at our disposal and built a tent of twigs that sent flames into the air to twice our height. We had a hose on hand to help define the perimeter since it was a fresh burning spot, and soon had a stable bonfire. I enjoy looking at fire. This fire went through many different color stages. The new fire was yellow orange. After we added more wood, the base became white. White and red for me in alternation, though the others said they couldn't see the red color. I see similar white/black/red alternations when reading in bright sunlight for some reason. (Astigmatism?) Then there were deep reds and pinks and oranges as coals formed. At the same time, the woods beyond the field were full of lightning bugs from the ground to the tree tops. It was a soothing end to a long day.

[Froborr]

Hey, it's better than winter! (I love summer even when it makes me uncomfortable. I appreciate winter aesthetically, but everything is just harder in the winter.)

Reverse "summer" and "winter" in that and you have exactly how I feel.

[storiteller]

The combination of fire and knives immediately led me to think of cooking. It's funny that my husband, who can be a rather risk-averse person, is a professional cook and so uses both on a regular basis. But I think he's bought into the beauty of risk and transformation more since he's been doing it as a career.

It also occurs me that trying to avoid any risk with either fire or knives can actually lead to them being far more dangerous. For example, working to completely avoid having any wildfires allows dry brush to build up that can lead to a far worse wildfire than if environmental managers do controlled burns. Similarly, dull knives are actually much more dangerous than correctly sharpened ones because they're more likely to slip off of the thing being cut and instead go into the users' hand or finger. In addition, dull knives make much messier cuts that are much more difficult to heal from. I think there's some sort of metaphor for life in there.

My sister and I held a bonfire party after the wake. For her it was just a party, but I needed a bonfire for my mourning cycle. I'm a somewhat ritualistic atheist, and some moments are best marked by fire.

I am Christian, and I think that's a beautiful ritual of mourning.

Also, I'm another person for whom "everything is harder in the winter." I don't have any disabilities, but my body doesn't maintain temperature well and I'm constantly cold in the winter. I also have mild Raynaud's, which mean my feet turn white and go numb much faster than normal people's because of crummy blood circulation. I'd love cycle places in the winter, but I've found that there's no way to keep my feet warm enough with the wind. Walking is fine, so long as I layer well and keep moving, but just standing around in the cold can also lead to some serious problems for me.

[cjmr, on her son's netbook]

The worst cuts I've gotten from knives have been in the week or so after I get my knives sharpened, probably because I'm used to using so much more pressure to cut with the dull ones. This is a good advertisement for getting ones knives sharpened more than once a year, I suppose.

[Literata]

Sorry I'm coming to this late, but thank you to everybody for the comments and the great reflections. I learn and grow so much from everyone's responses.