Soon, with the fire-master at my side in the Valley of Fire, I was building my first real fires. As I look back now, they were not very great fires, nothing like what I would build later, but the fire-master was always extolling the virtues of my creations. “It is so very bright! See how it drives back the Fog! And the warmth it gives! The chill dampness is all but gone!” Standing by my fires, listening to the mesmerizing voice of the fire-master, I could even forget that I remained in the Fog. I began to feel like the master of my own destiny; I could, by my own cunning and effort, defeat the Fog.
Reality soon inserted itself into my reverie. The comfort and security of the fire, although more concrete than anything I had gotten from the now dimly remembered Light, was ultimately transient. As my first fires consumed all their fuel and there was no more to add, they grew dim, flickered, smoked, and went out. Each time a fire died, the Fog crept back in. Eventually, the fire was gone, leaving nothing but the stench of damp ashes; the oppressive weight of the Fog seemed even heavier than before the fire was kindled. Despair crept over me; all my work was for naught.
In those moments, too, the fire-master was at my side. He would reassure me that the temporary nature of my fires could be overcome. If I worked harder and listened to him, I could have a fire that would truly last and truly satisfy. When my fire did not last until dawn (as was often the case), he would point out the importance of being a fire-builder. “See how the Fog closes in, as if to consume you? There is no telling what dangers are out there in the Fog. The bigger and brighter your fire is, the more it will dispel the Fog and the safer you will be.”
Danger in the Fog? I have always loathed the Fog, and I longed to be free of it, but I had never thought that the Fog concealed danger. But as soon as the fire-master mentioned it, it made perfect sense. Surely all manner of danger lay hidden in the Fog. It was easy to believe that the Fog itself was a malevolent force intent on cloaking danger in its cold mist.
As time passed, the fire-master encouraged me to build my fires ever higher and higher. When I was wandering alone, I built small fires, just big enough to cheer myself and give myself a bit of warmth against the cold dampness of the Fog. Now I was building massive bonfires. They burned so bright and hot that they scared me a little; it was hard to get close enough to tend them. Yet they could not go untended. They always needed my attention; to let a fire diminish soon became unthinkable. My fires became the only thing that really mattered. I would forego rest and food in order to make my fires bigger and better. But bigger and better fires meant I needed more and more wood.
Finding wood was always a challenge. As I lingered in the Valley of Fire, I saw that the valley was a sea of stumps; most of the trees had already been cut down. I had to spend most of my day venturing out looking for wood, ever fearful that I wouldn’t find my way back in the Fog. But the fire-master knew where to find the best wood and always seemed to know the way back to where I had built a rude shelter in the valley.
On one of my forays in search of wood, I climbed up, partway out of the Valley of Fire. I was surprised to see that the Fog was heavier in the valley than it was up on the ridge. Curious, I continued my climb. As I sat on a large stump, looking out over the Valley of Fire, where the Fog was joined by the smoke of countless fires still burning or smoldering from the night before, I suddenly noticed the Light! I had nearly forgotten that it existed. When in the valley, it was nearly impossible to see the Light. And in my pursuit of ever bigger fires, I had no time to think of things like the faraway, dimly seen Light. Why had I ever been seeking it? Was the fire-master right? Was I a fool for ever having chased after the Light? Was I a fool to have ever sought it? Surely my fires would keep the Fog at bay; what could the Light give me that I could not get for myself from my Fires? They were much brighter and warmer than the Light, and even though they eventually died out, they were real. Could I say the same thing about the dimly glimpsed and distant Light? My fires gave me comfort and security, something the Light seemed to promise, but the promise was never realized. With my fires, I controlled my fate. I drove the Fog back. I kept myself safe from any dangers lurking in the Fog. What was it about the Light that had once filled me with hope? What had caused me to begin my quest for the Light in the first place? As I wondered, I felt something start to stir within me. It was an ill-defined yearning for something that the Light seemed to offer.
I had only a moment to wonder about these feelings before the fire-master suddenly appeared at my side. “My friend, I was looking for you and saw you climbing up here. What are you doing so high up out of the valley?” he asked solicitously. “There is not much wood here, and even if you did find some, how would you get it back down your fire? This is no place for you. Come with me back to your fire, and I will show you how to get plenty of wood!” He clutched my arm rather more forcefully than I liked and led me steadily back down into the Valley of Fire. My ineffable yearning and half-remembered desire to get to the Light vanished altogether as the fire-master began telling me of new ways to have the biggest, brightest, and hottest fire.
As we made our way back down the now-barren hillside into the Valley of Fire, I could see the landscape dotted with fires piercing the gray of the Fog. They seemed to extend to the horizon. Some were small, like my first fires, and others were epic bonfires whose size was nearly unbelievable; they looked more like wildfires than bonfires. The fire-master would direct my attention to these other fires, especially the most spectacular ones. As he praised those fires, a new feeling began to grow inside me. I felt anger and a sense of injustice when I thought that other fires might be considered better than mine. My fire must be bigger, brighter, and better than any others.
As if he were aware of my thoughts, the fire-master encouraged them, “It isn’t really fair that these others have fires better than yours, is it? Surely you deserve to have the finest, the best, the biggest fire of anyone. You work so hard at it! Why should your neighbor have a better fire than you?”
Why indeed!
From Pops' Workshop 
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