We revere the world because it is real. It verifiably exists, and it is magnificent: it sustains us, it unfolds in its myriad, fractal ways: in forests and grasslands, in oceans and deserts, in mountains and valleys and canyons, in lakes and rivers and fog and rain and snow. It feeds us, it waters us, it sustains us with warmth and so many kindnesses that, though it isn’t volitional, we might as well poetically conceptualize it as Love.

We celebrate living because we are living. We sing, we stomp, we chant, we write poetry, we make art, we drum, we play. We light the candles, we burn the fire, we lay out the sacred objects. We paint the cave. We dance around the fire.

I have just returned from a weekend with friends, a retreat for the Core group of the Spark Collective. Spark conducts monthly fire-circle-style rituals (indoors), and in most years, throws a summer festival of three consecutive nights of all-night rituals around a blazing fire. It’s a magical community of fine, creative, kind people, and I love a great many of them very much.

The Core group coordinates the activities of Spark, and serves as its legal board of directors. But mostly, we just made sure that there are leaders  for the monthly rituals, and we organize the summer festival.

The fire circle tradition is a Pagan path quite different from many others. Ours is an ecstatic path about connection with the exquisite Earth, and with one another, through movement about a leaping fire.

It sounds simple, but it is anything but that.

There is something that happens when it is four AM and you are circling about a fire with others, singing and dancing to the beat of drums. Perhaps you take a little break, exhausted, and go to the food altar to restore yourself, drink some water, eat some nuts.

And others are there, and you converse.

I will tell you, the conversations at a time like that are the truest, most genuine exchanges imaginable. People are tender and open and ready to reveal what is true about themselves, and they are ready to connect with what is true about you.


So rare—so resisted—in our cultures. But so precious.

I envision a world in which we can be true with one another about the things that matter. In which we need not mask ourselves. And we can start in our own communities, with one another.

Authenticity is the greatest gift we can give to one another: the honest truth of our experience. It takes courage, and it takes trust.

If we can build trust amongst ourselves, we can find that courage.

If we can assume kindness as the core intention of one another, we can bridge the great gulf that lays between us.

So say a true thing—a fragile and vulnerable thing— to someone you love. Share the beauty within you, for it is a lens opening into a landscape of wonder and joy.

Speak your truth. Acknowledge your love.

Be authentic. It is the greatest gift you can give to another.

There is a Way

There is a way we can be with one another.

It is a way of kindness and mutual respect, of vulnerability and accountability. It is a way of playfulness and joy in the uniqueness and creativity of the other, a shared celebration.

It is a way so powerful and yet so simple, a way so pleasurable and so deeply comforting, that it brings me to tears to think of it.

And for the past three days, I have been immersed in a warm bath of it.

I have been—again—to the fire circle.

IGNITE 2017 was a gathering of some of the most incredible, complex, beautiful, creative humans I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I imagine that could be said about most any cohort of people, if they were able to live in the truth of their being. But this group is able to do so, and that is the difference between the ordinary and the extra-.

It’s hard work, too. Hard to be that brave and open. Hard work simply in the logistics of erecting the circle itself, providing food for fifty people, camping in hot and dusty conditions.

But the nights. Oh, the nights, until dawn comes. The drumming and dancing, the singing and poetry and stories. The heartfelt conversations outside the circle, the flickering torchlight, the fire blazing in the circle’s heart. The reunions with old friends, the finding of new ones with love shining in their eyes.

No “woo-woo”. No supernaturalism. Just wisdom and love.

Hard to believe it’s a substance-free event, isn’t it?

There is a way we can be with one another in a ritual space that brings out the very kindest and best in us. And then, learning, to carry that out into the world. To be better people, on a planet that badly needs them.

There is a way.

The Fire Circle: An Ecumenical Ritual Tradition

I am a member of the Spark Collective, based in the East Bay of the San Francisco Bay Area, which holds monthly indoor “fire circle” rituals (around a centerpiece of candles, instead of an actual fire, of course). These are a way of maintaining and building community for fire circle aficionados throughout the course of the year.

But there is nothing like a true outdoor fire circle in Nature. This is a ritual tradition that has been under development at Pagan festivals since the early 1990s and is now the operational structure of multiple festivals held throughout the country. Spark holds a “real” fire circle festival in the summer, and I just got back from Summer Spark IGNITE!

Fire circle is an ecumenical tradition: it has no central ideology of its own beyond the power of the fire circle ritual itself to help us to become our highest vision of ourselves. As such, it is a perfect place for Atheopagans (as well as people of any other tradition save those that view such ritual activities as somehow wrong). The fire circle is a place for personal transformation and for deep, joyful play with one another around the fire. At fire circle festivals (I’ve attended 8 of them, most of them involving three consecutive all-night fire circle rituals), I have circled with an Episcopal minister, a Catholic priest, lots of Pagans, and people of all kinds of alternative beliefs. Like most fire circle events, IGNITE! is a drug and alcohol-free event (except for coffee!)

At root, the fire circle is simple:

  • A fire pit in the center (unlit to begin with).
  • A series of tall poles topped by oil torches set in a circle around the fire pit, leaving plenty of room for dancing and movement between the fire and the torch circle.
  • A second circle of torches set farther out and connected by baling wire to form a “fence”, on which are tied prayer flags made by members of the community. A decorated gateway in the East provides entry to the circle.
  • A “drummers’ pit”, a semi-circle of 5-8 chairs set at the edge of the fence. This is where drummers sit and play; large drums such as dunduns are set up on stands for standing players behind this area. There is a small area directly in front of the drummers’ pit which is considered the “gratitude zone”, where dancers can express their appreciation for the musicians through movement or other expression.
  • A series of altars set against the inside of the fence to mark the points of the compass, as well as a divination altar which provides tarot cards, oracle cards and runes which participants may use as they wish during the night’s ritual.
  • Outside the fence at a slight remove from the circle is the “food altar”, which is kept supplied with snacks, water and coffee to help people take care of themselves throughout the night.
  • Also outside the circle is a “Healing station”, where people who are having emotional or physical problems can go for support, bodywork and comfort.

The night begins with the formal declaration of the circle, an invocation to each direction as a Portal to transformation (Voice in the East, Rhythm in the South, Movement in the West, and Service in the North), and whatever ritual and symbolic activities are used to set the theme for the night. At this point, the fire is lit, the drums strike up, and people begin to move around the fire, usually singing an opening chant. From there, the night is unscripted; as one chant fades another may begin, the drums may swell to a thundering beat for wild dancing or fade into silence when participants offer their songs and spoken words. The periods of silence can be holy and fervent, ended sometimes with soft chimes, bells or singing bowls until the drums start up again. Sometimes the chants are deep and meaningful; sometimes we sing funny songs or rock n’ roll favorites. We’re growing, changing, seeing the truth of one another, and playing. Throughout the night, fire tenders keep the fire bright.

The ethic of the fire circle is co-creation: there are no spectators. Even when simply standing at the edge of the circle and watching the dancers, participants will shake a rattle, clap their hands or otherwise engage the broader activity of the circle.

There is no expectation that people will stay in the circle the whole time. Most set up “nests” of blankets and pillows outside the circle so they can rest or nap between stints around the fire. Taking care of ourselves and of one another is a core value, and though doing this for multiple nights usually results in some sleep deprivation, that is a part of the transformational process, the emotional opening brought about by lack of sleep.

Nor is there a “direction” in which people must circle the fire. As one wag puts it, “there is no ‘up’ in space”, and the fire circle is viewed in some ways as like the solar system, with the fire as the Sun in the middle and rings of people dancing around it as “planets”: faster like Mercury when close to the fire, and more slowly when out by the torches.

In the fire circle, we remember our hearts. We honor those who have gone before, and welcome new children to the community. We celebrate with gratitude all the many gifts we are given in this brief, beautiful life.

When the sun peeks above the trees, a closing ritual is conducted, and we go off to nap for a few hours before beginning a day of (optional) workshops on ritual techniques such as drumming and chants. Sunrise can be incredibly moving: faces glowing in the new light, still moving around the fire, the world coming to light after the long darkness.

I have seen people wrestle with their demons in the fire circle, and truly heal from old wounds. I have done so myself. And I have seen people shine as the glorious beings they are, freed from the weight of their psychological burdens, safe and empowered to express the heart of who they are. I have seen the community of participants blossom with mutual love as the golden sun has risen, sweeping away the night.

The fire circle is a profound and beautiful experience, and it can’t really be described, despite my attempt. It must be experienced, and I encourage you to check it out…or, using the ideas described here, to try it out for yourself by organizing your own.

As one well-known fire circle chant by fire circle elder and innovator Spinner has it:

Here, we are held. We are holy. We are Home.