Fire, Water, Earth, and Air
We’re taught from an early age not to play with fire, and then we go on and do it anyway. My friend Ted died in a fire, just a couple of years after I finally graduated from UC Santa Barbara. He was a talented percussionist, and everybody loved him. There was talk of faulty wiring, a bedroom that wasn’t up to code, an illegal drug lab. I never found out for sure. Ted hung on for weeks, it seemed, in a hospital in LA. His funeral was huge, but it was a long time ago. I don’t recall if there were dozens or hundreds of family and friends. I remember his mom, vaguely, strong and heartbroken like countless moms who’ve senselessly lost their children.
I respect and fear fire. My wild imagination creates scenarios that feel real and scary. Yet I play with it, out in the backyard, in my Webers, in a controlled environment where it’s fire, that’s all. Any of the elements can kill us, but fire seems worst, the most painful way to go. That or a wood chipper.
I’m excited about a job opportunity at the fireplace store. When it first popped up on Indeed, I was intrigued, but not any more than any of the other jobs. They all sound alike, thanks to the algorithm. I applied and did what I usually do, which is visit the company website and poke around LinkedIn to read bios. “The Most Interesting Boss in the World.” That one stopped me in my tracks. Now I’m hooked on fireplaces and fire. How is it that an obsessive BBQ guy like me hadn’t pondered fireplaces before? We have one in our house, never used. I don’t even know if it’s wood burning or gas. The hearth is cluttered with what civilized people call objets d’art. I’m not saying we’re not civilized, but we certainly don’t have an all-encompassing word for Penny’s fireside art collection.
I wonder how many people use their fireplaces, and whether they’re more likely to use them if they’re gas rather than wood burning. I love the idea of a fireplace. I want to get over my fear of monoxide poisoning and laziness. Let’s bring the fire inside AND outside.
The bags of charcoal at Home Depot make it abundantly clear that you should not burn charcoal inside your home. It can painlessly kill you without warning. Most people know that, but on the off chance you don’t, consider yourself warned.
I read somewhere that drivers in Korea and/or Japan are committing suicide by lighting charcoal in their cars. You shouldn’t do that, either.
Do architects consciously consider the four elements when designing homes and workplaces? How might that look different than what we’re used to? Fire and water are most easily separated from and integrated with their surroundings. Earth and air strike me as more difficult and perhaps subtle. The structure itself is composed of earth elements, with air filling in the gaps. Rather than get hung up on the details, what if we were to create a design brief that said, “build a home based on fire, water, earth, and air?” Let the architect blow our minds, without interference.
If I were an architect, which I’m not, I’d focus on fire and water, both inside and outside the house. I’d have multiple locations in the backyard with grills and fire pits of different sizes and function. Open pits, covered grills, with pulleys, chains, and gears. Pools of varying temperatures. Comfortable year-round access to all of them. Safety features galore. Vesuvius.
I would never leave the house. Or maybe I’d leave the house too much, and kick myself for not appreciating home as much as I should.
Perhaps the combination of fire, water, earth, and air is what makes me such a restless spirit. Or maybe it’s just something in the ether.
