ABAW:5

I've been thinking a lot about fire.  Fire is showing up in my art work and in the metaphors I use to internally understand my clients.  Today I drove through steadily falling snow to get to a workshop on working with clients who have set fires (learned:  don't call clients pyromaniacs or firestarters; fire setting is typically a behavior based on normative curiosity, those words are pathologizing).  It occurred to me that I've worked with a lot of clients who have had these behaviors, which feels significant to me, but I don't fully grasp why yet. 

All this thinking stood in stark contrast to the ice collecting on my windshield wipers, the never ending expanse of white (and brown, ugh), the slow monotonous rolling through streets.  As I drove, I kept thinking about how to harness that fire. 

This is my overarching question of the moment:  How do I harness my proverbial fire, and once I do, what do I use it for?  I'm stretching myself in new directions, and its not quite enough.  I don't know where I'm going or what the purpose is.  Just that I'm feeling like I'm supposed to go this way.   

This is where my thinking is, as I unearthed this book from my half-read pile of books.  A summer book, this one was read on the beach, and greedily I did not want to finish it.  I do this a lot:  I am so worried about finishing (or succeeding) that I don't.  A good book, a good idea, lays unfinished and incomplete.  But once I complete it, a flood of new ideas and resources takes its place.  Levoy would call this ignoring the Call.  Well, here goes:  another stumble closer to heeding my own call.  If I could just figure out what it is.