The Upstream Campfire

Woodsmoke. Can’t you almost smell it, even just reading the word? Can you imagine the snap-crack sound of burning kindling, feel the radiant heat on your outstretched palms, see the brightly flickering flames, and taste the bitter smoke when the mischievous wind shifts in your direction?

A campfire captivates attention. By engaging all of our senses simultaneously, fire exerts a gravitational pull on our awareness. It is not easy (or advisable) to ignore a fire. We are drawn to its warmth and mesmerized by its ever-changing rhythms: flames dancing and dying, smoke swirling and settling, embers glowing and dimming, almost as if the fire itself is able to live and breathe as we do.

You are breathing right now, even as you read these words. Are you aware of it? Stop and notice: the inhale, the exhale. As you focus on each breath, your full attention is necessarily fixed to the present moment; that’s because the present moment is the only time in which a breath can occur.

So what’s the big deal about the present moment? More often than not, our minds are so busy with thoughts about the past or future that we miss living fully into the present. And the present – the here and now – is the only time in which we can actually experience anything.

Most of us spend a lot of time and mental energy going over things that have already happened, like regretting a careless remark, stewing about unfair treatment, or longing for the good ol’ days. When not busy ruminating in reverse, we fast-forward to the future: planning what we’ll have for dinner, worrying about the weather, fretting about finances. But spending valuable time in this Great Unknown can cause us to suffer unnecessarily. As Mark Twain is said to have observed, “I am an old man and have known many troubles, but most of them never happened.”

Research shows that we human beings are happiest when our attention is focused and fully engaged in the present moment. For example, perhaps you occasionally find yourself so absorbed in something you enjoy, like a hobby or sport, that time seems to fall away. You are “in the zone”, in a state of flow, functioning with a seemingly effortless ease. It may seem that this enviable state happens only serendipitously, but it can, in fact, be deliberately cultivated. Neuroplasticity is the brain’s amazing ability to change and adapt – at any age. The more you train your brain to focus on the present moment, the more often you will find yourself there.  

But how can the brain be trained to focus on the present instead of doing its usual thing – wandering off into thoughts of the past or future? By engaging your senses to notice details of whatever is happening now, you can pull your attention into the present moment. You can intentionally feel the rise and fall of the chest or belly as each breath enters and leaves the body. You can deliberately smell the scent of soap as you wash your hands. You can take time to savor the taste of your food before swallowing. All of these “noticings” are like reps at the gym – each time you repeat the exercise, you strengthen your brain’s ability to be focused instead of distracted; to be clear instead of agitated; to be tuned in instead of spaced out.

By exercising the brain in this way, new neural pathways are laid down, and new habits of mind are formed. For instance, the previously well-traveled pathway of Regretting the Past gradually becomes overgrown from disuse. A new pathway of Present-Moment Awareness replaces the old route, and with increased use, becomes the brain’s default mode of thinking. As neurons connect and strengthen this new path, traits of calmness and self-agency emerge and become prominent while states of anxiety and helplessness fade into the background.

Just as any roadway needs to be kept up with regular maintenance, mindful awareness must be sustained with regular practice. Meditation and mindful movement like yoga keep the body and mind connected and clear. Practicing with others provides strength in numbers to withstand the relentless cultural pressures to be constantly doing at the expense of being. Jon Kabat-Zinn notes that “Mindfulness needs to be kindled and nurtured, protected from the winds of a busy life or a restless and tormented mind, just as a small flame needs to be sheltered from strong gusts of air.”

In the Upstream community, we kindle, protect, and nurture the flames of mindfulness and honor our human yearnings for connection, stillness, and peace. These values are represented and practiced in a treasured tradition, the Upstream Campfire. We take time to gather around the campfire to share wisdom and create connection through stories, poems, music, and other ways that humans have communicated for millions of years.

The Upstream Campfire takes many forms. At the end of each Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction class, for example, we gather around an improvised campfire of meditation cushions and props to seal our practice and spark new insight with the sharing of a poem or reading. We conclude our day-long retreats around a real campfire, laughing and lingering with warm drinks, sometimes lapsing into comfortable periods of meditative silence, resting in the warmth of both the fire and our companionship. In this quiet spaciousness, our experiences have time to soak in, and wisdom arises as naturally as the smoky tendrils rise up from the crackling fire.

A favorite poem often read around the Upstream Campfire is (not surprisingly) “Fire” by Judy Sorum Brown. Take a moment to relax and imagine yourself gazing into the flickering flames of a cozy fire as you read the poet’s words. Better yet, come join us in person around the Upstream Campfire soon.  

What makes a fire burn

is space between the logs,

a breathing space.

Too much of a good thing,

too many logs

packed in too tight

can douse the flames

almost as surely

as a pail of water would.

So building fires

requires attention

to the spaces in between,

as much as to the wood.

When we are able to build

open spaces

in the same way

we have learned

to pile on the logs,

then we can come to see how

it is fuel, and absence of the fuel

together, that make fire possible.

We only need to lay a log

lightly from time to time.

A fire

grows

simply because the space is there,

with openings

in which the flame

that knows just how it wants to burn

can find its way.