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We burn to compose as we spark creativity by the unearthing of
the deeply buried fuel of memory. The memory reveals to us the
content, be that an epiphany, a realization, a long-repressed
recognition, or simply a moment of awareness of the past. Here,
then, is where we compose. We find the fuel for our creativity
in the memories we unveil, spark that fuel with the realizations
which the memories bring to us, and keep it aflame with the process
of creating. We continue to tend the fire as we continue to compose
and create. As we tend the fire, it grows higher, and the detail
in the landscape around us becomes more clear. As we see more
of the landscape, we see more of life and the world than our pitiful,
dimly-lit site in the forest allowed us before. We suddenly discover
texture in the surrounding forest, deep, rich texture which we
only had from the vague tales of passers by and hand-warmers at
our fire. As we see the world, we are compelled to explore, and
we return often to feed our fire higher and higher to light the
way. We discover others with fire, and others without. We find
both to be rewarding and valued companions, and we often warm
our hands with them, telling of our adventures in the forest,
and hearing of theirs. Eventually, if we build our fire high enough,
we see that the trees in our forest indeed have tops, and we wonder
what is there. With our fire to light our way, the truly aware
of us, Plato's philosophers and free-thinkers, Kuhn's outer-circle
questioners, begin to climb those trees, and upon breaking through
that thick canopy which obscures our world, discover that there
is light, and beauty, and fresh air. And we reach enlightenment.