Fire

Fire is perhaps the most primal force in human history;  worshipped, feared and harnessed. Join me on this podcast as I recount some history, our experiences with a South African braai at sunset, to discovering a remarkable wildflower blooming defiantly out of scorched earth. Fire relates to something profound about who we are and how we rise and embodies the Maverick spirit, and what it means to show up when the chips are down.

Transcript

Hello Fellow Mavericks, welcome to another exciting episode of the Ordinary Maverick podcast. This is Ajey, your host — an ordinary Maverick sharing real life thoughts, experiences and Maverick tips. If you haven't hit the subscribe button yet, please do so and you won't miss another episode.

So today we're talking about fire. Fire is…well, fire is fire. And just saying that word out loud, I'm sure it's already conjuring up very different images and memories for each of you listening in. And that's the thing about fire — it means something to all of us, and it means something different to everyone.

Let's start at the very beginning, shall we?

The word 'fire' comes from the Old English 'fyr', phonetically it sounds the same but it spelt as “fyr” and as one digs into history, there are words in Middle English like 'fier' spelt as “Fier” from where we get the word 'fiery'. And then there's the classical Latin 'ignis' meaning fire which is where we get the word 'ignite'. And boy, does fire ignite things…literally and figuratively!

Now here's something that genuinely blew my mind when I read about it. Humans started controlling fire over 400,000 years ago. Just think about that for a moment. Scientists at an archaeological site in Suffolk, England have found what is considered among the earliest definitive evidence of humans deliberately making and maintaining fire. The research, published in Nature, found traces of pyrite, a material used to strike sparks alongside heat-altered tools, all pointing to early Neanderthals purposefully building fires. 

And what did fire do for us as a species? It was transformational. Acc ording to researchers at the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, the archaeological signal of fire use becomes very visible from around 400,000 years ago and appears simultaneously across major parts of the Old World, Africa, Europe, and western Eurasia.  This wasn't coincidence. It was one of the first clear examples of cultural diffusion across early human populations. 

Fire provided warmth, protection from predators, and a way to cook food. Cooking food was not a small thing; it made nutrients more accessible, which in turn is believed to have fueled the development of larger, more complex human brains. As Dr. Rob Davis from the British Museum put it, the ability to make fire "accelerated evolutionary trends" including developing larger brains, maintaining larger social groups, and increasing language skills.

But perhaps what moves me most about this is something a researcher from the Natural History Museum in London said: fire wasn't just practical. Around a fire, people gathered, interacted, and taught each other. The fire was the original meeting place. It was where knowledge passed from adults to children, where community was built, where the very fabric of human society was woven. Thousands and thousands of years later, that impulse hasn't left us, has it?

Now fire, of course, has always existed as a natural force too, long before humans discovered how to make it.

We know about wildfires. Unplanned, accidental or deliberate often triggered by climate change, by hot dry conditions, that act as fuel. They can be devastating, destroying acres of land, altering entire ecosystems, affecting transportation, water supply, essential services, wildlife, and human life. Our first experience with wildfires was in recent years. We live in the woods here, and one of the first things we learnt when we moved in was about something called the burn ban. There are clear instructions and these are issued in stages and a stage one burn ban prohibits fires for yard debris and to clear land. One can do recreational fires but they must be kindled with dry firewood and used in a metal or concrete firepit and the fire cannot be wider than 3 feet. These come into effect when the weather is particularly dry. In our front yard we have a metal firepit and when we first saw it, we wondered about its use and why was it there? Ha ha…But given what we know now with the burn bans and stages, it’s clearer why the houses here have metal pits.

One of the advantages of living your life’s journey in different places is the continued learning and new first hand experiences and burn bans was definitely one of those learning moments for us.  It is important to check the burn ban status before thinking about recreational or clearing fires. 

Now, speaking of fires, there's one fire experience that wi ll always hold a very warm place in my heart. And that's from our time in South Africa.

That's where we discovered 'braaing'. For those of you who haven't heard of it, a braai is essentially a South African barbecue, but calling it just a barbecue is a bit of an understatement. It's a cultural institution. It's an art form! And getting the fire going for a braai…it looks deceptively easy. However, know that saying….’looks can be deceptive’ ..well, this is a classic example. Getting a good braii fire going is an art and has some tricks and tips to it but once you get the hang of it, you soon become a pro!

Our younger daughter took to braiing and getting the fire going and was amazing at it. Here is another one of those ‘norms’ that we enjoyed busting. The Braii and everything it entails…like the fire, cooking on it etc are considered a ‘man’s’ domain   ….over the years, it’s the men who do the braii and get the fire going, braii all the meats etc. not considered something a woman would do. Well, we’re never one for the norms! We’ve done what we like and love and have always encouraged our girls to do the same! So it was a bit of a show stopper…when while camping with folks, we had our younger daughter showing her expertise with the braii amongst basically all men or boys. Although I must admit, it was very much appreciated. We need to keep pushing, right. And one of our still favourite memories and traditions while camping was to gather around the fire as the sun was setting and roast marshmallows on sticks dipping them in chocolate sauce and enjoying music and friendly banter as the night grew darker before retiring to our tents.

Gathering around a fire is a tradition followed all over the world in some way or the other. In cold places, one would see people gathered around a fire during winter, seeking warmth but also enjoying moments together.

I want to take you on a little trip to Alaska.

Driving through parts of Alaska, one of the first things that catches your eye is this vivid, almost electric magenta flower lining the roadsides, covering the hillsides, carpeting the landscape. Bold, brilliant, impossible to ignore. That plant is called Fireweed.

Fireweed or Chamaenerion angustifolium, if you want the scientific name — is a striking perennial wildflower found across Alaska and much of the Northern Hemisphere, from Siberia across northern North America. 

And here's the thing that makes fireweed extraordinary. Its name tells its story. Fireweed gets its name from its remarkable ability to thrive specifically in areas that have been touched by fire. According to the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, fireweed is notoriously associated with fire landscapes; it rapidly colonizes burned areas, logged land, even oil spills. It was one of the first plants to appear after the catastrophic eruption of Mount St. Helens. And fascinatingly, during World War II, when London was bombed and entire neighborhoods reduced to rubble, fireweed swept across those ruins and gave them colour; earning itself the nickname 'bombweed' in England.

How does it do this? Two ways. Each fireweed stalk can carry up to 80,000 seeds, which fly off on little silky tufts every autumn. But more importantly, fireweed has a deep underground system of stems called rhizomes. When fire sweeps through, the rhizomes survive beneath the soil. And the very next summer,  the plant grows back, stronger, brighter, faster than before. 

Scientists call it an 'early successional species'. What that means is that fireweed doesn't just survive after devastation, it actively heals the land. It stabilises burned soil, recycles nutrients back into the earth, and makes those nutrients available to other plants. Without fireweed and plants like it, the more specialized trees and flowers simply couldn't return. Fireweed comes first. It does the hard work of restoration so that everything else can follow. 

In Alaska, fireweed is also a kind of seasonal clock. The flowers bloom from the bottom of the stalk upward through summer. When the topmost flower blooms and the plant goes to seed,  turning the roadsides white and cotton, Alaskans know summer is ending. There's even a saying: "When fireweed turns to cotton, summer will soon be forgotten."

For Alaska's Indigenous communities, fireweed has been a valued plant for centuries, the young shoots eaten in spring, leaves dried for tea, roots used for their anti-inflammatory properties, and stems used to weave fibres and cordage. Every part of the plant is useful. Every part contributes. 

Beauty born from destruction. Life rising from ash. I find that deeply, deeply moving and insightful.

Fellow Mavericks, that's where I want to make the turn because fireweed doesn't just speak to ecology. It speaks to us. To what it means to be human. To what it means to be resilient.

You know, resilience is a word we hear a lot these days. But let's really think about what it means. It means the capacity to recover from difficulties. The ability to spring back into shape. Toughness and elasticity at the same time. And what fireweed teaches us is that resilience isn't passive. Resilience isn't just surviving. Resilience is being the first one back. Being the one that stabilises the ground so others can follow.

This syncs perfectly with the Maverick formula. Quick recap of the three elements that make up the formula: go with your gut. Be true and fall forward. And it's that third one, fall forward that fireweed embodies so completely. When everything burns, when the landscape around you looks barren and black and impossible, fall forward. Keep moving. 

The Ordinary Maverick podcast was born at a time when the chips were down…it was during the COVID pandemic, just a couple of months in when the world had shut down and we were spread out, unable to be together as family that we created the Ordinary Maverick. Sharing our experiences brought us together. It was a form of resilience and continuing to move ahead, find the bright spots even when it all looked gloomy and depressing. 

And like fireweed, we found a way to grow anyway, to find the ‘fire’ within, to stabilize the ground not just for ourselves individually but as a family and for the people around us. 

And here's the Maverick tip I want to leave you with today. The next time you face one of those moments  and you will, we all do…remember the fireweed. It doesn't wait for perfect conditions. It doesn't need the forest to be already growing before it starts. It goes first. It goes into the burned ground. It does the work of restoration from the inside out. Deep roots. Thousands of seeds. And that extraordinary, vivid, impossible-to-ignore colour that says: I am still here. I came back. And I brought life with me.

That, Fellow Mavericks, is the Maverick spirit. Go with your gut. Be true. Fall forward. Every single time.

Do write to me about your own resilience stories and your experiences with fire. I would genuinely love to hear from you. You can reach me at theordinarymaverick@gmail.com and follow along on Instagram at #theordinarymaverick. 

This is Ajey, signing off and wishing you an amazing day. Keep well.

This podcast series was put together as a team effort from the Bhardwaj family. Concept, design, title, researchers and reviewers: Ajey, Sanjana, Avantika and Niharika Bhardwaj; Script — Sanjana; Cover design — Niharika. All rights reserved.