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player ready...Ask Anna is a sex column. Because of the nature of the topic, some columns contain language some readers may find graphic.
Dear Anna,
I’ve become possessed by a woman. Like the Santa Ana wind, she arrived in the fall. Like the Santa Ana, it’s not entirely clear whether she’s named for a saint or for a devil. When Didion wrote, “The wind shows us how close to the edge we are,” she was talking about her. When Chandler wrote, “There was a desert wind blowing that night … Anything can happen,” that was her, too. She’s a katabatic rush, booming across my life and I’m the California coast set alight from San Diego to Santa Cruz. I won’t ask you how to contain the wind. But how do you contain this fire?
—Eternal Fire
Dear EF,
“The lover’s house improves with fire,” as the Sufi poet Rumi once said. “From now on I will make burning my aim, for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.”
Charles Bukowski put it (a tiny bit) less dramatically. “If you’re going to try, go all the way. There is no other feeling like that. You will be alone with the gods, and the nights will flame with fire. You will ride life straight to perfect laughter. It’s the only good fight there is.”
I want you to find the power in this wanting, EF, this “katabatic rush,” as you put it, and I want you to let yourself grow rare with it. Do as Prometheus did in Greek mythology, and take the fire, the knowledge, and give it to mankind. Let it fuel you. Live in the flames, the mad-dashing saintly devil winds, and allow them to alter you. How will you do that? It’s up to you.
Create. Write. Paint. Play. Knit. Saute. Sashay. Whatever you want. But make. Let the brute winds carry you aloft. Let the fire transform you like the Japanese art form, Kintsugi, which treats the shards of broken ceramics as part of its beauty, its life and history, rather than something to be disguised or thrown out.
(I’m making some wild assumptions about you. I’m assuming that you are still, in fact, a person, who is showing up to work, eating, engaging in tasks that amuse and annoy you, paying your electricity bills. If you aren’t—if you have truly ceased to function, then don’t take this advice. Take a cold shower immediately and retreat to colder climes. But I don’t think that’s what’s happening. You would have mentioned it, if so.)
Let the winds mark you and the elements run dangerously close to annihilation. The fire cannot be contained. You know this. Air fuels fire—that’s not destiny; it’s chemistry. Let the fire be what it is. Even if it’s only for an hour. A week. A year. A lifetime. Several lifetimes. You may be “possessed” at this moment, but there is no other way through the magic. The winds will change and the fire will die down eventually, and only if you have submitted to its force fully will you emerge softer and more resilient in the wake of its chaos.
Fire consumes, but it also renews. It is passion and warmth and illumination and alchemy. It stimulates growth and nurtures ecosystems. It is revered and feared in equal measure. It is even considered to be a bridge between mortals and gods, because fire is one of the four elements that humans can make themselves. Do as the fire does and be both mortal and god. We’re all going to end up as ashes some day.
Enjoy the heat while it lasts.
Anna Pulley is a RedEye contributor. Want to ask Anna an anonymous question about love, sex or dating? Send it below, or email [email protected].