The Spark

The Spark

Think of starting a camp fire without the help of matches. You’ve gathered a heap of dry grass and leaves and some twigs. All that is needed from a flint is a spark or two and a flame will grow into a warm comforting fire. Add more small sticks, then branches, and later a few logs to the fire. After a short time stand back and admire leaping flames. All that beauty, that light, that heat, that energy just from a spark or two. 

Such is the genesis for a story or a novel. The spark starts with observing a person’s unexpected actions or words. Your empathy, respect or appreciation for the person is the receptive material that the spark lands on. Ready for more beauty? Add a dash of curiosity, of wander. Think you might have a bit of an understanding of the person? Attempt to predict their next actions or words. 

Success? Try again. This is like adding logs to the fire. Success this time? Now you’re ready to experience the person’s inner beauty. Engage them in a conversation. Compliment them on their actions or ideas. Or question the reasons for their choices. Or discuss alternate possibilities. Accept, enjoy, experience the inner feelings and logic of their minds like you would admire the leaping flames in the fire. 

Consider a hockey player as the object of your fascination.  Note how he/she out maneuvers a defender, their speed, courage or daring. During a break imagine the conversation and the joy that you might experience with the player. Now you have a beautiful story to share.

This is the process that I experienced that lead me to write Baggage burdens. One particularly revealing conversation lead me to begin to understand how at one time the person I call Jill could be a charming friendly person and then in another just the opposite. The revelation was overwhelming and lead to conversations with other members of the family and friends. The result––an understanding of why in the presence of bearded men, any drinking or smoking she became reserved and distant. It opened the door to an appreciation of the challenging struggle that she was involved with and her inner strength. 

 What was the spark, that initial engaging revelation? In part that is shown in a conversation that she had with her husband early in their marriage.

Jill’s Revelation

I thought I should share something with you first.” Jill remains at the kitchen table. 

“About?” asks Joseph as he sits down next to her.

“You once asked me about my family. I think it’s important I tell you some things now. I hope you don’t hate me for keeping it to myself for so long.” Jill’s earlier worried tone has become serious.

“Before you start, I want you to know, whatever happened when you were younger won’t change how I feel about you. I love you.” He holds each of her hands and prepares to read her body language.

“Thanks.” 

His smile makes her feel a little more comfortable. 

“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to blurt it out.” She pauses, determined to make her confession without crying. “I ran away from home. My father is an alcoholic. He often flew into rages, hitting both me and my mother.” 

She starts to cry. Joseph shifts around and draws her closer. He holds her, waiting as she regains control. 

“You see,” she starts as she sits up again and looks into Joseph’s eyes, “that’s one of the reasons I’m so comfortable with you. You don’t drink. You don’t even like it.”

“Sounds like we’re a perfect match. Nothing to worry about.” Joseph hugs her. “I love you, Jill.”

It takes longer this time for Jill to calm down. Then she straightens up and wipes her eyes. 

“Remember you asked how our first night was, our night at the hotel?” 

Joseph nods. 

“You were surprised when I said very good.” 

He nods again. 

“It was excellent, until the end when you went wild. Your strength and energy overwhelmed me. I sensed you lost control. I had no control over you.”She emphasizes the I. Being out of control frightens me. That’s the way my father was, out of control. My mother had no control over him. He had no control over himself. It’s that wild, uncontrolled feeling that splashed cold water on our wonderful experience.” 

Haiku capsule:

Happy-go-lucky

Distant and reserved today 

Really, who are you? 

Next Blog: 

Shall I quit?