FIRETONIC

In the comments section of my recent post on firewalking, Mary Lou of LifeAfterNEXCOM asked: "Tell me again why she [Echo] does this? And why YOU dont?" My response was too long, so I'm posting it here.

I had asked this very question of Echo a number of times before, usually on the way out the door to a firewalk somewhere, but always got a sort of vague on-the-way spouse-to-spouse type of response to a question vaguely posed by one familiar with the ways of Japan, so this time I said: Mary Lou wants to know why you walk on fire; what should I tell her?

Echo's answer was interesting; this is an abridged version. The first time, she said, it was sort of a 'divine curiosity,' as she put it. She wanted to see what it was like to walk on fire, and see if she could do it. The idea is that it makes you stronger, you're all tense and afraid and what not, standing before the fire, then you walk it as a matter of divine interaction and it hurts, but you did it, and you've gained spiritual confidence. You've also treated your entire body, reflexologywise.

In so doing she met all sorts of fellow firewalkers, who say it seems to be addictive. One woman firewalker who was in her 80s said she hadn't been going to walk the fire this year, she'd been firewalking for over 60 years and that was enough, but at the last minute she just had to firewalk again and there she was, this time walking the embers to cure her knee pain. She too said firewalking was addictive. (As I mentioned in that earlier post, Echo complained that this time the fire wasn't as hot as previously. She'd been hoping it would be even hotter, so apparently the pain level was disappointing.)

Thus, firewalking appears to have psychophysicospiritual curative and strengthening properties, sort of like a comprehensive firetonic. And in answer to the rest of Mary Lou’s question, as to why I myself don't firewalk, it's partly because big feet mean more pain, but mainly because I've always vastly preferred the more pleasurable manifestations of divinity.