Feeding Fire

I must not fear.
Fear is the mind-killer.
Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.
I will face my fear.
I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path.
Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.

--Frank Herbert, Dune

I've always been afraid of fire, so for this task, I decided to feed a fire. Not all fires bother me these days, and I can enjoy a campfire or a nice wood stove on a cold day, but less controlled fires make my heart pound. The worst I have encountered are the bursts of propane fire blasted out of various home-constructed flame throwers and such one finds at Burning Man events. The distinctive "hiss-fwoosh" sound of a gas explosion never fails to make me jump, at a typical event several times an hour. So, I decided to feed that fire while attending a regional burn recently.

I made the decision to do this on the first night, but I was secretly hoping the chance would never come. It did, however, as I was walking back from a whiskey tasting. A circus themed camp down the hill from where I was camped was setting up a "Flame cannon firing range and marshmallow toastisserie." I knew this was it and I could not in good faith walk away from it, so I grabbed some friends for moral support and photo-documentation and steeled my courage.



There was a knot of fear in my stomach as we approached, but overall I thought I was doing well. Then I got close and saw exactly what I would be firing. I jumped at every burst and my pulse was racing (in retrospect, I wish I'd had the presence of mind to check my pulse, but that was not really on my mind at the time). I told one of the people running the event that I was terrified of the flame throwers, and she replied "Yeah, that's probably because you're smart." I fought back panic.

I spoke to the proprietor of the event and explained my fear and my desire to face my fear. He kindly helped me strap on the cannon, and showed me where to hold it and how to fire it with the press of a button. Looking back, I can't even imagine being as terrified as I know I was. I declared I would fire two shots.



Actually firing it was easy, surprisingly so. The second shot misfired and I accepted the proprietor's invitation to take a third shot with relative calm. I can only assume this was adrenalin doing what it was supposed to do and keeping me calm under pressure.

After the three shots, I handed the cannon back, and practically fell into the arms of my friends. I had pins and needles throughout my arms and legs, and my vision clouded. I needed to sit down, my legs wouldn't hold me. It took half an hour for me to calm down. I don't think I've ever had that much adrenalin in my system before in my life.



I'm glad I did it, and I'm glad I could do it.

I'm never doing it again.

As far as facing my fears goes, it did seem to help. Flame cannon bursts for the rest of the weekend barely caught my attention, and definitely not with the panic inducing reaction I was familiar with. I think, however, the valuable thing from this experience will not be being less afraid of this one thing, but rather the tried and tested knowledge that I can be terrified of something and still choose to do it anyway.

Special thanks to Saille for providing most of the photo evidence.