Serotiny
A serotinous pinecone holds itself tightly closed for years—over 20 years in some cases. The seeds waiting in that cone can’t get out until a fire burns hot enough to melt the cone’s resin causing the cone to fall open.
What kind of fire might allow me to fall open? Not the fire of anger, pain, or frustration--this curls me back in on myself. But there is some kind of heat that allows me to blossom outwards. There is fire in noticing the small details of the world—the way some flies have orange eyes. The specific gold of a striped-maple leaf in August. The maraca rattle of some small member of the world’s evening chorus. They work like kindling or the scraps of paper one might use to begin the fire. They are the ignition source that invites me to see the bright light of the world and to let that heat crack me open.
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