Grimby’s Gratitude – Carrying the Fire
the E-Newsletter of Goldeen Ogawa • Issue 20, July 2019
Originally posted for Patrons on July 5 on Patreon
What have I done?
- Cleanups for “The Four Cavaliers” (The Camilliad, Book 3)
- First draft of “Kazmurin Serpent” (Myths of Urvia)
- Read-through of “Free Man Running” and “Follow the Dark” (Driving Arcana 2.6 and 2.7)
- Interior illustrations for The Aubergine Spellbook (Felpz Volume III)
- All That Remains comic
What am I doing?
- Cleanups on “Sir Camilla” (The Camilliad, Book 4)
- Formatting for Driving Arcana Rotation Six
- Interior illustrations for The Aubergine Spellbook
- Personal work!
Where am I going?
This weekend I’m at AnthroCon in Pittsburgh PA! If you’re in the area come by my table in the dealer’s den (Heliopause Productions at D17) or my panel on Friday afternoon and reading Saturday night.
Carrying the Fire
“Our lives are like the wind… or like sounds. We come into being, resonate with each other… then fade away.”
—Nausicaä of the Valley of Wind, Book 4, by Hayao Miyazaki.
I rebelled at this concept when I first read it, sometime in the naughts, as a teenager. Life had to have some kind of permanence if it was to have existence, I felt, otherwise what was death then complete obliteration? It was too depressing to contemplate and so I didn’t. Then over a decade later a friend died, and I realized that, to me, Nausicaä was almost—but not quite—right.
Our lives are temporary. We are not permanent objects, like stones or lakes—which themselves are not perfectly eternal—but events. Actions. Like the burning of a fire. Or a star.
I would say our lives are more like fire. We are kindled, we flare and crackle, pop and burn, bringing warmth and light and irrevocable change to everything we touch, and eventually we go out.
But while we are alive we are alight, and can light in others a similar fire. We are part of one big burning, but we are also each in our own way unique. We are all our own light.
I’m thinking about this again because another friend recently died. Not a close one, but someone whose loss I will feel. A bright corner of the world gone dark. And I wonder where her light has gone. She came into being, resonated with a great many people, and now she is fading. Her fire is out. Is that it?
I do not think so. And not because I am human and would like to imagine a place beyond places where the people and animals we love exist forever (and I mean that is a thing also: some people call it heaven, some people call it dreams, some call it our hearts) but in a real tangible way, cessation of life does not negate that life’s existence.
When I examine my life, my fire, I see it is a combination of many other fires from people whose lives have resonated with mine. And so is everyone else.
We are combustion. We are living, flaming, burning things. And though we do eventually burn out, we can ignite in others a similar fire, and so it comes that the light and warmth we bring into the world through our being continues in the lives and fires of those we have touched.
Death is not a refutation of life. It is an end point. Just because a thing has an ending doesn’t make it any less real or important. Though I understand the desire to soften the impact with euphemisms like “passing” or “going to the big barnyard in the sky” I think there is a healthy honesty in recognizing death for what it is. Maybe that makes you feel scared, or sad. But that is okay. Feeling scared and sad is part of being alive. And being alive is a process. It’s not a universal constant—like the speed of light.
My friend’s cat died in March. It was not a surprise, but it was very sad. And it made me consider again the question, what remains after we are gone?
I wrote a little comic about it. Hardly a graphic novel—more like a graphic flash-fiction—but I think it handily answers the question. You can read it here:
Because we are more than our cells and our beating hearts. We are—humans, dogs, cats, pigs, beetles, trees, and mold—our actions and the effects we have on the world. And if that effect is love, then that love with continue long after we are gone. We are fire, and fire spreads.
The dead are done with doing. It is the duty of the living to carry the fire.
So flame on all of you, as brightly and for as long as you can.
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What’s coming in July?
Patrons can look forward to:
- Saturday updates to the Sparks Gallery
- Sunday updates to “Travels in Valdelluna”
- First look at Felpz III interior illustrations!
ProTip
Sleep is not to be underrated. Sleep is life. Sleep is sustenance. After air, water, after water, food, but right along with them is sweet, sweet sleep. If you have trouble, don’t stress! Use the bathroom, have a drink of water. Meditate on something peaceful; I like thinking of a tree on a hill, its leaves rustling in the wind.
This post has been generously sponsored by my Fellow Traveler patrons. Come join the party!