Kindling the fire to warm and inspire us in winter.

bringing warmth and tending our inner light with the fire element - part one.

Jan 25, 2024

I’m Lyndsay, mother, creative and storyteller with a background in interiors PR. Story & Thread. is a weekly letter exploring the intersection of creativity, mothering and the living world, with a home and a garden at the heart...

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"Fire is spontaneous, dangerous and beautiful. In the hearth it makes the home. Fire in the blood awakens the mystical imagination”.

—John O’Donohue, The Four Elements: Reflections on Nature.

Hi everyone

We are deep in the underworld of winter in the Northern Hemisphere — how is it feeling for you?

It is this time in January when December’s festivities have become a memory blurred at the edges, and yet we still wake immersed in darkness, winter storms douse and chill us to the bone and temperatures can plummet — though signs of subtle shifts can be found, if you look closely enough. Even so, it is certainly not a time to rush or force anything, or to emerge from the cocoon too soon — but instead to bed in more deeply, whilst remembering that the first silent signs of spring are stirring.

Thank you for reading my last post on creativity at home, I am so glad to hear that the idea of finding creativity by noticing the small moments resonated with many of you and I loved hearing how your experiences of creativity at home change and evolve in the different chapters of life.

This week I have been writing the winter instalment of the elemental living series — an exploration of the elements at play within the season to find a sense of balance and more ease (you can find all elemental living posts here). In winter, earth, water and to a lesser extent, air prevail, and so we look to fire to warm and inspire us…

The garden is feeling sparse, skeletal and still.

Winter within and beyond.

In some ways, this winter feels dense and demanding, juxtaposed with a backdrop of emptiness, stillness and space outside. These wintry qualities of space and stillness for rest, reflection and visioning have not effortlessly materialised within my mothering role so far this season. Instead I have intentionally carved them out where I can — in order to access enough aloneness to gather my thoughts. When my mind veers into a story that I am not yet where I ‘should’ be, I am reminded that winter is long, the living world does not rush, and there is time.

Taking cues from the world beyond my window, I can clearly see the withdrawal of the living world and the dark season of dormancy. My garden is a palette of muddy browns and straw-like shades, smudged onto a canvas of deep evergreens. Dead wood, brittle branches and stark stems jut out awkwardly from the earth and are battered by the winds — leaving laced skeleton shells of past petals strewn across the grass.

I managed to cut back some of the decaying foliage at the weekend which revealed the cold earth as if frozen in time below, and yet handfuls of green shoots were bravely reaching towards the half-light. This clearing was needed in order to see what had been concealed in the undergrowth, waiting to come forth. I find I need this too — the space and stillness to slowly make sense of myself and find my form taking shape amongst the shadows and silhouettes.

Balancing winter with the fire element.

In terms of the elements, winter is thought to be heavy, wet and cold, there is “a sense of heaviness, increased moisture (usually in the form of rain or snow), cloud-covered days, and the grounded, slow feeling that sends many animals into hibernation”, meaning that the predominant elements present are water and earth (known as kapha dosha in the ancient science of Ayurveda1). Arguably, winter has undertones of the air element too, especially in times of extreme cold and dryness, and it is also particularly present in strong winter storms like the ones we are experiencing in the UK and Ireland — Isha and Jocelyn have brought strong winds and heavy rain this week, in what is our most active storm season since records began.

Whilst we continue to batten down the hatches, and I resolve to soften more into this season (and the beauty that can be found here), there is a danger of winter leaving a feeling of stagnancy, heaviness and melancholy. The antidote to this is the stirring warmth of the fire element — and I am finding myself being drawn to warming myself and my home with food, light, layers of tactile textures and gentle gatherings; and to tending the embers of creativity, allowing ideas to simmer, trusting in the enduring glow of the slow burn.

The nature of the fire element.

Fire is needed for our survival — it provides light, warmth, a means to cook and to nourish ourselves, it has always been a significant part of human culture and development. As well as a protector and a provider, it alchemises, transforming one entity into something entirely different. It is a vehicle of action and transformation, it indiscriminately changes the essence of anything in its path irreversibly. Its own form transmutes from spark to flame, to smoke and to ash. It defies gravity, dancing in space, it is a tool of making and creating — fire is said to have an active, outward, yang energy and is closely linked to ideas of power, drive and passion. Of course, an imbalance of fire can lead to destruction and devastation on the planet, and to anger, rage and burnout within us.

Fire ignites, it warms and transforms; it is energising, powerful and radiant, it burns, purifies, cleanses and clears.

Fire relates to our spirit body, it represents our inner light, what motivates us, our passions and our creative power.

As well as existing outwardly in the living world and metaphorically within us, fire and the ‘hearth’ has been synonymous with home throughout the ages. A hearth is a brick or stone-lined fireplace used for heating and cooking food and for centuries has been an essential part of a house, usually its central and most important feature. The existence of the hearth, the word coming from Middle English herth and Old English heorth, dates back millennia to prehistoric campsites and the word itself derives from an Indo-European root *ker, meaning burning, heat or fire. As well as signifying the home as a whole, ‘hearth’ can also represent a vital or creative centre within a person or a civilisation as a whole, ideas I hope to explore more soon…

Warming up with the fire element.

We can draw on the wisdom of the physical and energetic qualities of the elements to bring ourselves towards equilibrium within a season. In the depths of winter we yearn for light and warmth. I am finding myself drawn to illuminating our home with soft light in the dark mornings and afternoons; to nourishing myself and my family with seasonal comfort food and warm layers. Festivities and celebrations also continue to bring us warmth in winter — first at Christmas and Yule, and with both children’s birthdays in January, there has been a pull to gather within our home — to create gradual and instinctive family rituals and traditions that feel spontaneous and natural.

Although the Christmas tree came down at the beginning of the month, I am in no rush to remove winter and birthday decorations which are bringing joyful light, colour and adornment when it is needed most.

Embracing the slow burn.

Creatively too, fire governs our inner light and the spark of inspiration. I am most interested in how we harness this momentary spark — perhaps instead it is about tending to the quiet power of the smouldering embers and alchemising ideas into molten gold. A process that requires repeated careful kindling to bring seeds to life in a sustaining and enduring way.

I can feel the shimmer of potential projects, partnerships and collaborations growing in the year ahead as ideas are voiced, visions imagined and intentions made. Yet I am reminding myself that this is a season of gentle alchemy and slow transformation — a process of feeling — of reflecting, dreaming and tending to the flame. It is from here that there is a simmering — drawing out meaning for the slowest burn and softest glow, and there is time for it all.

In the next elemental living instalment, I will be exploring and sharing fire rituals to warm and inspire us during these wintry weeks ahead. Until then, here is a fireside ritual that I shared for

Laura Oldfield

’s beautiful advent offering last month… (it’s not too late to do this!)

How do you feel warmth within yourself and at home?

What is inspiring you this winter?

Thank you for reading — I really hope we can chat more in the comments.