Contrary to the expansive vision of the young, it’s often the tiny details where we live the largest parts of life. Idealistic youth move away from home to travel the world believing that it will light a fire inside them—and it does—but rarely in the ways expected. Viewing the Eiffel tower, roadtripping the Baja, or hiking Machu Picchu are all valid experiences. In the end however, we realize it wasn’t the act itself that you cherish. It’s the little things: the Parisian kiss, the post-surf beer, the belly laughs shared in the rare Peruvian air. After years of traveling I’ve become reacquainted with one fine detail I’ve always loved—the simple fire pit.
My fire pit is modest. It is illegal. It is heaven. I’ve lived in basement suites, apartments and townhomes for the past two decades. I recently returned home to the Comox Valley and a Cumberland backyard begging for a fire pit. Around this tiny ring of embers I sit in frosty wonderment of the stars. I drink cold beer or warm scotch and ruminate. I avoid the television and plan outdoor adventures. Or I don’t do anything at all except stoke the primal flame of life. Around this fire—and this community—I will dig into the coals of passion and create a life built of all the small things that make this incredible life feel huge.
Mankind has always rallied around flames to share stories with each other. Next time TV programs like The Mindy Project or Duck Dynasty call your name, ignore the temptation to spend hours with the one-eyed temptress in your living room. Go outside, split a little kindling and build a fire. Invite your friends…or don’t. Take an evening to soak up all the awesome adventures you’ve already been on in both your backyard and abroad. Reflect on the old. Plan the new. Most of all, remember that infinite tiny things create this giant cosmos, and it would not be the same without little, ol’ you. Light it up in the only way you know how.