Fire and Fir
By: Bill Yuan
Tags: Tradition, Christmas, Home, Community, Spirituality

Under a dark cloudy blanket, a giant stood majestically overlooking his fluffy dwarf fellows, dressed in glamour that signified his sole superiority, his thousands of little hands naturally extended, around his arms wrapped festive wires, which climbed up from his stout and sturdy body firmly planted on the ground. His charming dark evergreen receded in the brilliance of the golden fairies. For decades he grew hungrily, avariciously absorbing all the nutrition given to him by Mother Land, keeping sturdy in the most violent of winds and the coldest of nights. To the dome of the heavens — that was his aptitude.

Today, looking at the glitters that shone warmly in those little people’s eyes as they held up their heads, admiring him, there was a little proudness in his heart. He’s never been bothered by the cold, but he still appreciated the warmth that now ran through his trunk. He looked down, and found the source of that warmth — a half-person tall campfire was erected in the centre of the five good friends. Two of whom he recognized: Don and Will who dressed him up. The others, however, the giant could only guess. Though accurately speculated, he still felt like he didn’t really know them, and he wanted to, for they seemed important to Don.

“Pst!” he signalled.

“Yes?” An impatient voice flared up, spitting carelessly. “Oh, sorry,” as the fire noticed the people around him startle.

“How does it look down there?”

“Um, snowy?”

“Yeah I know! They come to me before you. The humans, I mean. How does it look like down in that circle? …Jeez, after all these years, one would think you’d become more mellow. Still so grumpy, so impatient.”

“Oh…Mmm…Warm and cozy, like always. How’s it looking up there?” Fire ignored Fir’s comment and asked half-heartedly.

“Oh, magnificent! I’ve finally grown tall enough to overlook the whole plane without obstacles. I can see where the heaven meets the earth.”

“Good for you.”

“What are they talking about?”

“You can’t hear? I thought firs have great hearing.”

“Too tall. And it’s fairly windy up here — the trunks down there pretty much shielded off most of it.”

“Tall species problems,” followed by a head shake and a sigh. “They just talking about mundane, human stuff.”

“C’mon, tell me more. Deets! I know you’re a reticent kind, but indulge me. We haven’t seen each other for quite a while, after all.”

“True. When was it? Two centuries ago?”

“Something like that. Hunting was still a necessity, so was fire and wood.”

“Yeah…it’s crazy, isn’t it?” Fire grew pensive.

“What is?” Fir grew curious.

“Three human lifetimes had come and gone, but to us it’s barely noticeable anymore.”

“That is true! I’ve hardly grown to middle age, and the person who planted me is a bunch of skeletons now. Even more so for you! You’re immortal.”

“Yeah, honestly, it’s like mere seconds for me.”

“You know…” just when Fir was going to contemplate out loud, Fire interrupted him.

“Oh, wait! Did you know this was Don’s first Christmas ever?”

“What? No way! He must’ve been to a party or two, living in the city.”

“Apparently he’s always busy with work, and with his family not on good terms since he could remember, it was just never a thing for him. ‘Couldn’t get into the spirit,” that’s what he said.”

“Wow, I didn’t know that. Oh, I miss that.” Washed over now with a sudden sadness now a sense of reminiscence, the breezes made Fir look more forlorn than he felt.

“What?”

“Remember when people used to talk to us? About their fears, hopes, aspirations, and sometimes even pray to us? That disappeared when all these machines started to appear.”

“Oh, yeah…I miss that too.”

“Yeah?” Fir was a little surprised. “I thought there are still spiritual people who use fire as a…a medium, or something?”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same, you know? It used to be a community, a village, and I felt a part of it, because people would dance around me and I would dance with them. Now, I’m a medium in their lives, not a part of it. For most, they come to me when they need me, which still feels nice — who doesn’t wanna feel helpful? But…” Fire looked around at the five friends surrounding him, feeling nostalgic, “I still miss this.”

“Oh? Aren’t Don and his friends just using you as warmth?”

“Well, they could well just go inside.” Fire flared gently his flames on the side, showing Fir the snow floor.

“Oh, I guess that’s true. They can still see me from inside, too, I guess… Speaking of, why did Don feel like Christmas all of a sudden, I wonder?”

“Oh, they’re just talking about this, actually. You know Anastasia? The student?”

“Yeah, I might’ve caught her name once or twice when Don was putting up these fairies with Will.”

“She was just talking about how she never felt the festive spirit, either.”

“Right,” a piece of conversation flashed back to Fir all of a sudden, “Don was saying their Christmas used to be just a gathering in one of their apartments with snacks and movies. No decorations, no dinner, not to mention any rituals.”

“Yeah, yeah! See, her family apparently is far away, and she never felt like Christmas without them here. So it’s always been just another weekend or something.”

“Oh…” Fir could felt throughout his trunk what he thought Anastasia must’ve felt. And he was a little blue.

“I know…” Fire was empathetic to his old friend.

“Well, what about Will? He was here helping Don put this whole thing together.”

“Oh, he’s just talking right now. Hold on…” And both fell silent for a while.

The high wind whistled in Fir’s ears, and he looked up to the moon peeking out from a crack between the grey clouds. He then looked out in the direction of the city. He imagined his life in this incomprehensible cement forest, times when he’s hard at work, and when he lays back somewhere after a long day. He wondered what he was feeling and thinking. He thought of Will, and how he and Don must’ve been strolling down the paths among the cement giants and talking about all kinds of things. Or maybe they talked through that sorcerous medium called a phone. Either way, he wondered what kind of conversation they had that brought all of them here, what had stirred in their hearts that caused them to break their tradition of movies with excessive snacking.

The wind wouldn’t stop whistling. Fir dreaded to listen with his own ears the stories of these tiny humans, which he didn’t know how hungrily he longed for until he now heard them again. Fire was quite an outstanding storyteller, despite choice of words being few, he managed to make Fir feel a faint sense of participation and the longing grew. He wanted to hear their voices and the specific peculiarities thereof, but in the end, he was quite immersed and lost in learning about these humans, thanks to Fire.

There was Don and Anastasia for whom the Christmas spirit was quite absent from the beginning. There was Will whose family wasn’t a big fan, so despite the fact that he is, he had grown used to the plain atmosphere at home, but that’s why he often spent the season with his buddies, making the night a bit more special (also an excuse to go crazy on indulgences). Then there was Maggie who grew up having quite traditional Christmases but has always been intrigued by such ideas as friends-giving. And finally Peter has always been a big Christmas fan, especially because he loved sharing his baked goodness, but he’s currently in a stage where he’d decided to explore the zone outside of family conventions and had been rather willing to just chill at Will’s apartment for this reason.

For variously individual reasons, however, tonight they gathered themselves under Fir surrounding Fire. Peter was excited with half a heart about a new thing that shall become Christmas staple, with the other half leaping about showcasing his pastries. Maggie was taken off the feet by her curiosity and sheer adventurousness. Will felt at heart that he had stumbled upon a second family who are excited about Christmas. Anastasia, the most indifferent, secretly made up her mind to make at least one change in her life this year, and Christmas happened to be around the corner, along with Don. Don, on the other hand, revisited one of his favourite sitcoms — the iconic FRIENDS. He almost scolded himself for the slowness with which he had arrived at the eureka moment.

An author, Don had always wondered what of the story of this silly sitcom attracted his complex mind. A clinician, Don had exhausted all resources, external or inner, trying to dissect the characters and put their circumstances under the microscope, trying to answer what seemed to be unanswerable. And many an answer has he arrived, Don was never satisfied with any of them. Not until now, sitting among friends speaking his mind to the campfire, did he realize it was all right in front of him. It was so simple yet trumped any analysis he’d ever attempted. As it poured out of him, he became lost in the glow of Fire. He felt uncanny in his heart, as it felt simultaneously empty and deep. In a flash, just before his friends’ voices pulled him out, he thought this pyre would speak back to him. But it was only the humble crackling whispers.

Fir was moved. His branches rustled with thrill. As if echoing his call, the ocean of evergreen sang in a synchronized chorus. Let the chilling winter winds howl, they could not penetrate the sylvan giants.

Fire was touched. His flame twisted with trill. As if answering to his passion, the mist of kindles danced in an exuberant choreograph. Let the snowflakes fall, they could not permeate the fiery radiance.