If we're going to stay vital, we really need to be able to create a fire that can regenerate itself as long as there's enough fuel around and stop wasting our time and energy constantly relighting the same fire that we keep killing. Here's what I mean...
Yesteday, I went to the Winslow Animal Sanctuary in Norton, MA where a fundraiser was taking place to support the sanctuary. For a New Englander, huddling around a campfire on a brisk autumn day, meeting people as we all warm up by the fire, sharing food and stories - is part of our heritage, and makes anywhere we are, feel like home. The fact that this particular campfire was in the middle of the sanctuary and the day was a fundraiser for the sanctuary added a sense of shared purpose to the experience.
I arrived about ten minutes after all the excitement; the giant pig had managed to escape while still shackled to the fence that he was dragging behind him. He raced his way through the fundraising area, and somehow found his way over to the blind horse, which the pig chased around. The blind horse probably had no clue what all the noise was but knew enough to try to get out of the way. The three-legged cat quickly hid behind a tree, and everyone else - human and animal, stood in a bit of shock, except of course for the sanctuary staff who worked to get everything back under control. By the time I arrived, the moment had become the campfire story, with each new campfire visitor being brought up to speed as they took their place around the fire.

I quickly noticed however that the "fire" was more like a smoke stack than a campfire. I watched the people around it putting wet pine needles and fresh twigs on the fire so it would relight with a quick flash of flame and smoke and then just die right out - making it necessary to constantly keep throwing new "stuff" into the fire to keep it going.
The girl scout in me knew exactly what to do. I started sifting the pine needles through my fingers to pick out the dry ones and put together a small stack of dry twigs and sort of fed these to the people around the fire to throw them in. I found a large stick and poked the logs a few times to chip off the burnt outer crust and release the hot core. Trying not to be too obvious, I took my time and gradually started nudging the logs into position so air could flow between them. That did it, the flames became steady and the fire burned with very little smoke for quite awhile, until...
Some folks had brought food and with the food came some treated paper plates and napkins which they thought would be a good thing to burn, so onto the fire they went. Paper after paper...again, a quick burst of flames, smoke, and then nothing. In fact, so much useless junk got thrown on there, that the air could not reach the hot logs and the fire returned to a smouldering pile of heat. The sun was starting to set anyway, so I started on my way home...
I started to think about whether or not we do this sort of thing in our lives. Do we mistake a quick flash of energy or warmth or enthusiasm and a bunch of hot air, for an authentic fire that can fuel itself as long as there is enough fuel around? Are we spending way more time and energy trying to stay vital then we need to, because we are not using the types of fuels (foods, exercise, thoughts, supportive relationships, etc.) that are "just right" for keeping ourselves feeling alive and vibrant? Are we actually exhausting ourselves unnecessarily by putting out our own inner fires by not paying attention to the fuels we're using, and then having to use an extraordinary amount of time and energy to keep reigniting the fire, only to put it out again and again?