Playing with Fire
Untangling the Ancient Wisdom Hidden in Our Modern Traditions
To my past, my present, my future—
To my parents, who gave me wings.
To my husband, my partner learning to fly with me.
To my sons, who perfect the art of soaring.
Icarus reminds us: honor the ancient warnings, then fly farther together.
Introduction: The Fire That Never Dies
We live in a time of freedom and access like never seen before. Access to information—a lot of information—and the freedom to review and discuss it for ourselves. This can seem daunting at first. But it can also be seen as a gift, one that brings us together in ways we never could have expected. Finding out about ourselves tells us we are creatures of cooperation, rather than division. But this new information also asks us to break some boundaries and expectations, as we learn more than the people did before us. So first off, we have to be okay with that. Be prepared for hearing some information that may cause you to question things we thought unquestionable. I just ask that you keep an open mind. This information was for myself, to learn what stories I want to perpetuate when I tell them to my own children, about life, celebrations, science, nature and religion.
Are you ready?
From the words of Albert Einstein: "Either you see magic in everything, or nothing."
The Question That Started Everything
Let's start with something that sounds ridiculously simple, but actually leads to a complete unraveling of everything we think we know about our celebrations:
Why does Santa come down the chimney?
Go ahead—try to answer it. Use all the mainstream knowledge you can think of. Ask Google. Ask the “experts” in all the theological and historical realms. Search through all the official histories and biblical stories of Christmas traditions.
You'll find partial explanations that don't quite fit together. Something about Saint Nicholas putting gold down a chimney for some poor girls' dowries. Something about Germanic immigrants bringing winter traditions to America. Maybe some Victorian illustrators popularizing an image of Santa, later co-opted by marketers to sell you things. But none of that really answers the question. Why specifically down the chimney? Why not through the door like everyone else? Why would anyone do this during winter, when chimneys are roaring with fire?
How about, why do we blow out birthday candles every year?
And an even trickier bonus one: Where do marshmallows come from?
Some of our favorite things we do today, we do without explanation. When you pause to think about it, these stories start to feel like a lost song—something we are trying to sing along to, but we've totally lost the words.
This is what happens when you ask childlike questions with genuine curiosity. Children haven't yet learned to ignore the uncomfortable questions that religion and politics have made taboo, or gave us collective amnesia of. They haven't been trained to accept partial explanations for phenomena that clearly have deeper roots. They still hold onto that quality Einstein considered essential for scientific discovery: the ability to be puzzled by things, to be awed by nature, and an interest to know more.
Where Innocent Questions Lead
For the first time in our shared human story, we carry the world's accumulated knowledge in our pockets. We can read ancient texts in their original languages, compare archaeological discoveries across continents, trace the etymology of words back to their oldest roots, to push the textbooks to go deeper than a classical unknown or incomplete explanation, and connect with scholars and seekers worldwide who are asking the same questions we are.
When you have these tools and the freedom to follow evidence wherever it leads, that innocent question about Santa's chimney opens a door that can never be closed again.
We become transported to new locations, environments and time periods that may have some taboo topics that make people around us uncomfortable.
The flying reindeer of modern holiday traditions echo accounts of consciousness expanding beyond ordinary perception.
Suddenly, the most commercialized holiday in the modern world reveals itself as the preservation of humanity's most ancient spiritual practices— looking up at the sky and creating stories that connect us the stars and sun and moon, with people who were much more connected to the seasons, paying attention to the earth’s gifts and transitions that could still feel just as relevant to us today.
Once you allow yourself to see the mushroom growing naturally under the pine trees in snowy Arctic forests, discovered and loved by reindeer, and the image of chubby men entering a yurt through the smoke hole when the doors are blocked by snow, you can't unsee it. And once you learn to ask these kinds of questions, you start noticing everything else.
The Pattern Everywhere
Some of the other patterns I’ve started to notice:
We celebrate the "birth of the son" at the exact moment when the "sun’s" birthday is celebrated around the world as conquering darkness.
Our word for "Easter" sounds strangely close to that of "Ishtar," the ancient goddess of fertility, with celebrations tied to the same solar phenomena across the world.
We see hidden patterns in places and personal names.
Context is given to important things like wedding rings, that happen to be perfect circles—the ancient symbol of eternity and cosmic cycles.
The lights and wishes of candles on birthday cakes, resembling one of the first known prayers to the sky gods.
These aren't coincidences. They're linguistic and cultural fossils, preserving ancient wisdom in forms so familiar we stopped questioning their origins. Like rivers flowing from the same source, human wisdom traditions have always been connected beneath the surface.
Like dandelions, they refuse to stop budding to the surface. And like these medicine givers that pull up deep nutrients from the soil, the gifts are extraordinary.
Playing with Fire
The title of this book reflects both the danger and necessity of this exploration. We are handling sacred fire—the kind of knowledge that has always threatened those who profit from keeping people disconnected from their own sources of wisdom and healing.
That innocent question about Santa's chimney leads directly to the recognition that our most cherished traditions preserve practices that were later criminalized, demonized, or forgotten. People have died trying to tell these kinds of stories. But we live in unprecedented times. Most of us in can read and write, or at the very least, access people who can, and that universal literacy means anyone can read original sources. We can use the internet to translate them. Global communication allows us to compare notes across cultures and continents.
Our diverse religions appear to be more like shared streams instead of branches of a tree, interweaving and connecting in a way that one can hardly be pulled from another. Nature thrives in diversity, but we also share the same principles and laws of nature.
We're all comparing notes now. The story is coming together faster than any super power can try to suppress it. Archeology and science are re-opening things that were once considered closed topics.
This book is an invitation to keep that childlike curiosity alive. To ask the questions that seem too simple for adults to bother with. To notice patterns that hide in plain sight. Our hunting minds love this kind of game of detective.
Let’s remember that we are all made of ancient star dust, recycled matter, since no energy can be created nor destroyed. Ancient wisdom flows through your cells, driving instincts and igniting that the divine spark within you. The heat that created galaxies beats in your own heart.
Welcome to the fire that will never be diminished. Welcome to the wisdom that survives every attempt to extinguish it. Welcome to the recognition that the light which guides humanity home has always been burning within you, waiting for this moment of rekindling.