A Dawn Fire on the Beach

Last week, we made a fire at dawn on the beach. The morning was quiet, with no one around except for us and a few curious dogs. A couple of fishermen strolled past and handed some driftwood to my son before continuing on their way, leaving behind a sense of timeless connection.

That morning felt like a deep sigh, more than just being in the present moment. We were participating in a ritual that humanity has engaged in for hundreds of thousands of years: making fire, watching the sun rise, listening to the rhythm of the waves, feeling the sand beneath our feet, petting a dog, and sharing a moment with fellow humans who, despite our differences, understood the quiet power of fire at dawn.

I’ve been reflecting on the deep nourishment that comes from participating in timeless rituals. These were once part of our everyday lives, but now they feel like occasional "escapes" from modern existence. What used to be essential practices, making an open fire, greeting the sun, and being in harmony with nature, are now rare moments that we cherish, followed by a kind of grief for not engaging in them regularly.

The fire wasn’t just a shared, horizontal connection with others; it was a dive into deep time, a link to our ancestors who would have understood the experience without explanation. How many of our daily actions can truly connect us like this? Not just the fires at dawn, but countless little actions too that we may brush off as inconsequential. What small actions can we take now that would be recognisable to fellow humans from deep history? Walking barefoot, swimming in natural waters, stargazing, sharing meals with loved ones, laughing, listening to birdsong, basking in the warmth of the sun or the coolness of dappled shade, running, playing, and simply taking time to be in nature without a book or phone. Sometimes even the smallest of actions can be a connection if we are present to them, like scratching an itch, feeling the smoothness of a river stone, or feeling cool water on our skin.

What if, instead of seeing these practices as fleeting escapes, we wove them into our routines as vital elements for our well-being? It’s not just the actions, of course; it is the full presence of ourselves that creates the time portal. Simple actions of nourishment and care, when done with presence, can become profound windows into what has sustained us over millennia.