He was the king, and they said that being Fire over Fire, he could walk through flames and emerge unscathed.
The I Ching’s double fire sign, Li, means “to cling to something,” and “the brightness.” A luminous thing must contain something within itself that perseveres; otherwise it will burn itself out. It must hold fuel to nourish the flame.
Oh yes, Lord, he held on to it. The clinging fused with his being, behind flesh, beyond flesh, illuminating skin to nerve to bone, flowing through his bloodstream like a river of stars. Everything in him was alive with it, grasping it, lit by it. It informed him, defined him. Music was his flame and his fuel.
It was a Twist night gig, where jealousy and anger filled two men and spilled over into the dance hall. Their fight over a woman set the place ablaze. It almost cost the king his guitar, left behind in the mad rush to the door. He went back into the flames for it. When the smoke cleared, the name of the woman who set the night on fire was revealed. A phoenix rising from the ashes, the brightness and the clinging found its name: Lucille.
He knew he was here for this: the blues. A radiant, full hand rocking the string back and forth, bending time with sound. You are here to give witness to the luminosity, to feel its heat, and its truth. From smoky club to concert hall, the spark of his double fire kindled the lamp of every listener. The vibrato shines its light on a path for you. Go this way, brother. Keep it lit.
Some fall thoughts on the Tao and water over fire…Rest here, breathe.
Bruce Lee said, “It’s not the daily increase, but the daily decrease. Hack away at the unessential.” That quote actually comes from ancient Chinese thought, and you are likely to find it running through the culture stream of any wisdom tradition.
As the weather warms up, we all understand the concept of spring cleaning. Beyond that notion, part of health and well being is to get rid of what you do not need. In the I Ching, the Book of changes, there is hexagram #41: decrease. Sometimes it is called “empty the cauldron”. It is made up of the trigram mountain over the trigram lake. Here’s what’s happening in that pairing: the water evaporates, and though not visible, the moisture nourishes the mountain. It moves deep inside, hidden — yet is fosters new growth.
It is a time not of accumulation, but meaning. What seems to be lost, and in many ways is lost, is ultimately changing. The external gives way to the internal. Maybe its a reduction in your material possessions. Their loss can leave room for something else: perhaps not visible, but felt, and understood. Known only in a way that manifests when you make space for it.
In more modern words — less is more, clean up your sh*t. Cutting through clutter and excess could mean cleaning out a closet, or clearing out your own cobwebs. Streamline efforts in your daily life. Clear a place for deeper exploration of thought or spirit. Is it time to talk less and listen more? Maybe the anger has to go. Or the frustration. Judgment. Jealousy. Self absorption. Self pity. All baggage you do not need to carry. It weighs you down. Hack away at it, let it go. Empty the cauldron. Dissolve, like water into the mountain, and see what grows.