Fire has always been a sacred element for us. Our ancestors were fire creators and fire tenders. They used it as the first form of alchemy. They used it to cook food, to make medicine, to cleanse spaces, to warm bodies and spirits, to create light in the darkness. They understood that fire was magic. It transforms raw food into meals, clay into pottery, ashes into cleansing soap. It warmed babies and brewed medicines. It smoked the meat that carried us through winter. It lit the night sky with stories and kept wild beasts at bay.
Across the world, every culture has held fire at the center of life. In the Andes, fire was offered with coca leaves in ceremonies of gratitude. In West Africa, sacred fires marked rites of passage and healing. In traditions here on Turtle Island, fire keepers have sat through the night feeding flames for sweat lodges and vision quests. In the Caribbean, coal pots slow-cooked stews while stories were passed down by grandmothers. Firekeepers existed in every community as the most wise, tending not only to the flame, but to the spirit of the people.
But somewhere along the way, we forgot. We traded embers for buttons and lighters. We lost the muscle memory of gathering kindling, the patience of coaxing flame from friction, the reverence of sitting still beside the fire and listening. We no longer carry coals wrapped in bark or walk through the woods with eyes trained for dry grass and resinous pine.
We became disconnected from fire and in doing so, from a crucial part of ourselves. In our home, we don’t raise our children to fear fire. We raise them to be in relationship with it. To witness its power with reverence. To understand it as both wild and wise. From a very young age, our babies learn fire safety, not through warnings and punishment; but through ritual and respect. We kneel beside the hearth together. We practice patience when striking a match. We sit in stillness and listen to the crackle. We tend coals like we tend to each other with care, with rhythm, with responsibility.
Learning to start and tend fire teaches us how to be in rhythm with life. It will not be rushed. It demands presence. It will mirror your energy, your focus, your intention. And when you sit with it long enough, fire will speak. Not in words, but in memory. It will remind you of who you are and who you come from.
Fire teaches transformation, as does learning to work with fire. It consumes what no longer serves, and in return, gives light, warmth, and renewal. To live with fire is to remember how to be in constant conversation with nature. To know when to feed, when to step back, and when to simply sit and receive. These sacred acts are parallel to that of living a slow and intentional life.
To take time to learn and to know how to build fire, tend fire, and honor fire is sacred knowledge. That is the work of remembering who you are.
And in remembering who you are, remember that we didn’t just use fire. We honored it. In the fast pace of modern living, we’ve lost that reverence. Many of us no longer know how to bring fire to life without a lighter or switch. But the memory is still in our bones. And now is the time to remember this critical skill; the lifeline to clean water and cooked food. The result of simple actions that warm us, speak to us, and comfort our young.
This summer, we invite you to reignite your relationship with fire through Living with Fire – Building, Tending, Honoring, a hands-on, soul-deep workshop offered by our beloved Firefly instructor, Tyler Lavenburg.
As you attend the workshop and learn how to harvest materials for fire, how to start a friction fire, and how to maintain a fire both indoors and out, remember:
living with fire is a journey back to your roots. It is sacred knowledge and you will be learning a skill to pass down to the young people in your life for their sustenance and survival.
With over 15 years of firecraft teaching, Tyler holds space for this powerful reconnection. He teaches the old ways to build and tend fire, with patience and purpose. You’ll learn to gather tinder from the land, craft your own friction fire kit, build and tend a fire with care, and feel the spark of confidence that comes from birthing flame with your bare hands.
What You’ll Learn
- How to harvest fire-starting materials from the natural world
- Crafting your own bow-drill friction fire kit to take home
- How to build, light, and maintain a fire in the wild or at home
- Fire-starting tools, fire-carrying methods, and how to build a backcountry-ready fire kit
- Deep listening to fire as a teacher and guide
What You’ll Walk Away With
- A complete handmade bow-drill fire-making kit
- Embodied skill to create fire without modern tools
- A deeper relationship to the land and its offerings
- A renewed sense of confidence and connection
- The medicine of being in community with fire at the center
As Tyler shares, “Typically folks leave with revelations about how their spirit and soul need to be around fire to be well.” And it’s true. Fire brings us back to ourselves. It grounds us, nourishes us, and invites us to slow down and remember what matters. In this class, fire is not just a tool. It is a teacher.
Join us for this immersive, outdoor experience where you will not only learn to make fire, you will learn to live with it.
Living with Fire: Building, Tending, Honoring
Saturday, June 14, 2025 — Father’s Day Weekend
10:00 AM to 4:00 PM — near Weaverville, NC
Open to ages 14 and up — beginners welcome
Knife skills are a plus, but not required
Come ready to kneel, tend, listen, and transform
If you feel the call to live with fire — not just use it — this workshop is for you. Let’s gather around the flame, like our ancestors once did. Together we’ll make fire medicine once again.
