When I think of all of the wonderful things that Fire has to offer I smile. It fills my heart with the uttermost joy to know that I can come to my workplace and flourish with my co-workers in such a peaceful and serene environment. Whether I am sad, distressed, depressed, distraught, angry, anxious, or indifferent I can come in and completely lay it all on the table. I never bring my drama into this setting on purpose, but Fire for me is like meditation. I just come, relax, and center my focus on what I am doing. I make sure that I breathe deeply, and lose myself in the refreshing oasis of the art. All of my passion, my pent up emotions, and initial reservations are emitted here. The wonderful auras of my fellow staff members are my inhale. The words I write on paper or type are my exhale. Every time I think of Fire at its fullest potential and in its best light, it fuels me with all the more drive and motivation to bring another level out of myself.
To me, it’s all the same as the feeling you get as a kid when you have some of your first Christmas experiences. The whole scene is just like a dream. You write out everything that you want on your Christmas list in a detailed letter to Santa, watch with a dazzling bewilderment as you bask in the luminous magic of the Christmas lights and decoration, you ensure that you have fresh milk and cookies out on Christmas Eve for Santa Clause, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the seemingly inconspicuous gift-giving martyr. You also do your best to stay on your P’s and Q’s and go to bed early. This task becomes nearly impossible because the lure of new, rare, and exciting presents blares in your ear the way an ambulance siren does. It incessantly calls your name until you have no other choice but to stay up all night and let your imagination run wild, exploring all whimsical possibilities it creates in your mind.
After Christmas day finally does arrive, you are overwhelmed with anticipation and intrigue. No matter what background you came from, whether poor, middle class, or rich, you remember your early Christmas experiences because they bring you back to a point of consummate joy and light-hearted experiences. Those experiences are free of all of the negative components, disappointments, and letdowns to come in life. At those times, it was just the essence of the moment that makes the memory most cherished. You, a young innocent and promising child with your whole life still looming ahead, and your loved ones can’t help but sit back and observe the sensational glimmer in your eyes and reflect back on their own treasured memories. Their empathy allows them to play the role intended to ensure that you make the most of the moment.
After all is said and done, the Christmas day is heralded as one of the most exhilarating days of your life even compared to your later days. Now, as I look back on my own holiday experiences as an adult, I realize now that my adoration for the Christmas season had very little to do with the material gifts I had received. What made Christmas great was: the pure joy and happiness I got from spending precious time with those I loved, discovering the importance of giving and receiving form others, the incomparable feeling of relishing in the good times, and most importantly, the magnitude of knowing that I too am a special child worthy of love and appreciation because of the miraculous birth of Jesus. That is the feeling I get when I walk into the big, red building on the corner of 1249 Portage Road; which is one thing that I wouldn’t trade for the world.
To me, it’s all the same as the feeling you get as a kid when you have some of your first Christmas experiences. The whole scene is just like a dream. You write out everything that you want on your Christmas list in a detailed letter to Santa, watch with a dazzling bewilderment as you bask in the luminous magic of the Christmas lights and decoration, you ensure that you have fresh milk and cookies out on Christmas Eve for Santa Clause, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of the seemingly inconspicuous gift-giving martyr. You also do your best to stay on your P’s and Q’s and go to bed early. This task becomes nearly impossible because the lure of new, rare, and exciting presents blares in your ear the way an ambulance siren does. It incessantly calls your name until you have no other choice but to stay up all night and let your imagination run wild, exploring all whimsical possibilities it creates in your mind.
After Christmas day finally does arrive, you are overwhelmed with anticipation and intrigue. No matter what background you came from, whether poor, middle class, or rich, you remember your early Christmas experiences because they bring you back to a point of consummate joy and light-hearted experiences. Those experiences are free of all of the negative components, disappointments, and letdowns to come in life. At those times, it was just the essence of the moment that makes the memory most cherished. You, a young innocent and promising child with your whole life still looming ahead, and your loved ones can’t help but sit back and observe the sensational glimmer in your eyes and reflect back on their own treasured memories. Their empathy allows them to play the role intended to ensure that you make the most of the moment.
After all is said and done, the Christmas day is heralded as one of the most exhilarating days of your life even compared to your later days. Now, as I look back on my own holiday experiences as an adult, I realize now that my adoration for the Christmas season had very little to do with the material gifts I had received. What made Christmas great was: the pure joy and happiness I got from spending precious time with those I loved, discovering the importance of giving and receiving form others, the incomparable feeling of relishing in the good times, and most importantly, the magnitude of knowing that I too am a special child worthy of love and appreciation because of the miraculous birth of Jesus. That is the feeling I get when I walk into the big, red building on the corner of 1249 Portage Road; which is one thing that I wouldn’t trade for the world.
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