One night, when I had stopped to rest, I saw a most curious sight in a valley below me. Just as darkness fell, lights began to spring up in the valley that lay below me. As I watched, more and more lights sprang to life. Soon they stretched out ahead of me in the direction of my travel. I could not tell how many there were; they extended as far as I could see, eventually being swallowed up by the Fog. I was puzzled. The lights looked like fires, but they seemed to be much too large. I was used to seeing small campfires here and there, but if these were fires, they were much larger than any used for cooking or a bit of nighttime warmth. I was curious, but resolved to let the matter go; I slept.
The next day, as I expected, the Fog prevented me from seeing down into the valley. I decided I was not going to let some vision of fires deter me from my quest for the Light and resumed my trek. But that night, my resolve faltered. As the day faded away, the lights once again appeared below me. This time, they were behind me as well as in front of me. My day’s journey had not brought me to the end of what must be a quite long valley. I could not guess just how long the valley was; now the shimmering lights of the fires extended as far as I could see both behind and ahead of me. They were now closer, too. Either my day’s walking had brought me lower, or the floor of the valley was rising. What was the meaning of these fires? My resolve to continue toward the Light crumbled under my curiosity.
The fires were close enough to me that I dared to clamber down to them. They cast eerily dancing shadows, and I slipped and slid more than once, tripping over an abundance of tree stumps, but overall, the slope down into what I had come to think of as the Valley of Fire was manageable. As I neared the first fire or two, I could see that my suppositions were correct. Here were huge bonfires – much larger than needed for cooking or a bit of warmth on a cold night. These people here seemed to have ceased wandering and settled down in one spot, where they built fires, creating their own light. Had they seen and abandoned the Light that was drawing me? Had they never seen it? Their massive fires certainly seemed to supplant the Light.
Initially, I scoffed at their fires. As large as they were, these bonfires were puny and insignificant compared to the Fog. And how could anyone gather enough wood to build fires like these for more than a few nights? It must be folly. But as I pressed deeper into this Valley of Fire, I marveled at how the fires did drive back the Fog. All around me was heat and light and groups of people reveling around massive fires.
Drawn by the bonfires and the lure of camaraderie, I decided to rest a while at one of the larger fires that had sprung up in the night in the Fog. There seemed to be power in the Valley of Fire. I was only going to stay at the fires for a few days, but that changed after I met the Fire-Master.
Fire-Master
I met the fire-master one night as I was sitting on the periphery of a crowd that had gathered around a particularly large and splendid fire. He sang the praises of the fire, pointing out how skillfully it was built: the outer structure would stand for hours, and when it collapsed, it would fall in on itself, leaving a still-burning inferno. He seemed to know everything about fires. He pointed out subtle flaws in how this fire was being tended, then excused himself and went to advise the person whose fire it was.
He soon returned, his face aglow from the newly intensified fire. “Have you ever built a fire?” he asked.
I replied, honestly, and I thought, humbly, “I have built many fires, but only small ones for cooking and necessary warmth.”
He laughed, “No, no, my friend. I mean a real fire. The kind of fire that warms the soul and makes you glad to be alive!” His laugh was loud and boisterous, but there was no warmth or humor in it. It made me feel small and foolish, as if there was something everyone besides me knew. Seeing my reaction to his outburst of laughter, he apologized, “I do not mean to offend you, my friend, but when you know the delights, the energy, the power one feels from a truly great fire, it is hard to think of a mere cooking fire as even worth mentioning. Stay by me, and tomorrow night, or perhaps the next night, I will help you build a real fire, and you will see how good it feels to drive away the Fog by your own efforts.”
I hesitated and then told him, “Thank you, but no. I have to resume my journey soon. I am going to find the Light.”
He did not laugh, though I was sure he would, but he looked at me with a hint of pity, as a learned scholar might look upon a not-very-bright child. “I am so sorry to hear that; you are on a fool’s errand. Many have been lured into chasing that chimera, and none have ever gotten anything other than lost and tired. How do you know that it is even a real light, and not merely a trick of the Fog reflecting sunlight or moonlight?” I had no answer for him, for in truth, I had often asked myself the same question when Fog and the darkness conspired to rob me of any hope. I had pinned my hopes on something that I could not be sure was real; maybe I was, as the fire-master said, on a fool’s errand.
As I sat mutely staring into the fire before me, wondering what to do, he put his hand gently on my shoulder and said, “Friend, you don’t have to decide whether to give up your quest or not. Stay here with me for a few days. I will teach you what I know; I think you have the makings of a great fire builder. And after you have learned what I can teach you, then, if you still want to, you can pick up and renew your quest. The Light you are chasing will still be there, won’t it? I’ve heard people claim it is eternal! What harm can come from resting a bit here in the warmth and safety of these fires?”
He was quite persuasive. He assured me that he could help me build a fire that would last; he could show me how to drive back the fog and keep it away. The promise of life without the Fog was enticing. Besides, I was not really getting anywhere wandering in the Fog trying to find an elusive Light. No one had told me to pursue it, and certainly, no one had told me that I must not allow myself a rest. I slept that night among the glowing embers of countless pyres in the Valley of Fire, and the next day my lessons began.
The fire-master was eager for me to become a successful fire builder. I wondered why he had taken such an interest in me. When I asked him, he would only say that he enjoyed helping others on their way. At first, we did not build any fires; he just helped me find my way to new, bigger, and brighter fires. There, he would point out the subtleties of their construction: how their outer structure was sturdy enough to last the night yet cleverly contrived to let in enough air to sustain the inferno inside. Sometimes I would try to talk to the person whose fire it was, but they were invariably gruff and seemed to be suspicious of my motives. Some even accused me of wanting to ruin their fire, and they threatened me and chased me away.
Even in those rebuffs, the fire-master was ever at my side. “Never mind about them!” he would say. “I will soon have you building fires better than they can even dream about!” And he would go on to point out subtle flaws in the design or construction of their fire, suggesting that under his tutelage, my fires would be perfect; others would be coming to me to see my splendid fires!
From Pops' Workshop 
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