During my Christmas break I read a great many Substack articles, enjoying the luxury of time to sit with cups of tea and dogs cuddled around me and enjoy some incredible writing.
One article that stuck with me was
“Throwing the Pants in the Fire”. In it she tells the story of gathering with friends around a bonfire and burning items and pieces of paper of everything they wanted to let go of.One friend had brought several boxes of fire offerings, the highlight of which was a colorful patchwork pair of pants worn at festivals and by its wearer deemed a suitable fire sacrifice to banish the old iteration of himself.
I’ve always loved a good fire offering! I first learned an elaborate and formal ritual of fire puja from my first teacher and have since used it regularly for both myself and in my work.
There is a special magic to gathering around a fire. An activity that connects us with the line of our ancestors, to the beginning of time. Deep in our bones sits the memory of those ancient gatherings - to stay warm, to cook, to gather or to perform rituals and sacrifices. When we gaze into the flames, our instinctual nature comes online and with it a deeper connection to the natural world and our own place in it.
Add to that the obvious cleansing quality of the fire element and you have a potent way to let things go - literally as in those festival pants, or figuratively as in written notes and prayers we can watch go up in smoke.
When we gather around a fire at the end of one of my retreats, I always tell the same story my teacher used to narrate as she stoked the fire.
In the Hindu pantheon of gods, fire is represented by the god Agni - who is equally the sun, domestic and sacrificial fire, digestive heat and lightning. He is invoked and tasked to carry the messages within the fire offerings to the gods.
Agni often is shown with two heads - one with the benevolent expression of bringing warmth, sustenance and blessings, and one with the menacing face of swift destruction.
Agni has a consort, the goddess Svāhā. And while it is Agni who carries the messages, requests and offerings to the gods, it is his wife we invoke when we ritually throw things into the fire.
At this point my teacher would gleefully cackle and say “ When you want to make sure it really gets delivered, you have to ask the wife!” and with that the offerings were energetically tossed in the flames with a joyous “Svāhā!!!”.
I love telling this story and feeling my connection with my teacher and through her the entire lineage of women who have stoked fires, made offerings and invoked the fire god’s wife to make sure the job gets done.
Throwing things into an actual fire, seeing them burn with nary a trace left is a powerful statement of letting go. Once the item is gone, visually and factually destroyed, the memory fades - both through the ritual and by no longer having that item remind us of what they are connected to.
Items are a powerful anchor of memory and a portal into landscapes of experience. The shell on our desk is not just a shell, it’s a portal into a romantic windswept walk on our favorite beach with the person we love, or the symbol of exotic travel with dear friends. The heirloom we use everyday is not just a thing we received upon the death of a beloved grandmother, but a direct reminder of her and our connection to ancestry.
Offering items into the fire wipes the slate clean - with the anchor gone, the memories don’t load up as frequently and are replaced by other mementos and memories. The ritual aspect of it serves as a powerful notice to the psyche that we are actively ready to move on. The cleansing is palpable and often profoundly freeing.
I experienced a grand version of a fire offering a few years back, when a raging wildfire consumed my entire home and property - cherished possessions, buildings, animals, trees and all my books were gone in an instant.
By the time I got there, all that was left was a thin layer of ash with a few warped metal items and the old rock walls sticking out of the wasteland.The fuller lessons of this fire will have to be written about in a separate story, but within this context I can say that having lost all anchors, all things, all mementos - including all heirlooms, photos, clothes, books and art was intensely painful and disorienting, but also somehow freeing when seen from a safe distance of a few years.
I would often worry what will happen to some of my most beloved possessions when I die. Who would cherish the items passed down to me or given by teachers and loved ones? I would hold on to clothing that no longer fit because it reminded me of good times in my life. I had drawers of “good” silverware and “special” china and jewelry too precious to wear.
All that went in the fire and with it I was loosed from the moorings, no longer reminded of my past selves, past loves, past losses, and past patterns.
Everything needed to be freshly acquired and with it came new ways of being, seeing, and moving in my world. And while I still mourn some losses within that experience, I am much more “up to date” within myself and my life. I’m also much more resilient knowing that I made it through the harrowing experience of having lost it all and emerged the stronger for it.
Needless to say, I now use all the “good china”, I no longer hold on to things for later, and I am much more willing to let go of items, memories and relationships without the sentimental need to be reminded of obsolete anchors to the past.
Most surprisingly, with the visual anchors gone, I have laid to rest old betrayals, grief and memories of relationships that had long taken their course. Sometimes I search for that old pang of anger, sadness or betrayal, but it has gone - somehow cleansed by the big pyre of all things.
Emily’s friend knew this - by offering the festival pants into the fire he wiped the slate clean. A fresh iteration of him could enter the new year - released from sentimental ties, outdated beliefs and old ways of being.
So go ahead - light some pants on fire! Write down grievances and unspoken communications. Gather wishes and prayers on a beautiful card. Throw them all into the flames with vigor. And as you do so, whisper “Svāhā!” and let the fire carry it away.
This is inspiring another sacrificial fire, this time of all my pre peri-menopausal pants, whose collection seems to continue to grow as my hormones wane. Gifting them has always seemed more practical, but burning them feels more appropriate.
A few years ago I burned down all the precious metals I’d been gifted from my matriarchal lineage, letting go of their representation towards hoarding, fear and over emphasis on the material.
I’m still sitting with the insanity of that intuition, not completely sure of how to complete the ritual.
I’m inclined to return the remaining ore blob to the earth, from which it was probably taken without permission. But I haven’t quite landed on how to do this properly.
Thank you for sharing & inspiring more letting go where needed.
Very moving, and a poignant reminder that while love and loss coexist, letting go is a choice that can be empowering. 🥰