Celebration of the Celtic year is a familiar experience as for some years I have participated in communal, ceremonial and solitary honourings of this time. Personally, its important to me as a marker of change in my life: 10 years since moving to the mountains, one month to my birthday, one month to an anniversary of the fire that destroyed my home and transformed my life.

In my mountains community it is celebrated with a festival, people dress up, art exhibitions are held, a parade down the main street takes place honoring and promoting diverse issues of concern to the community, concerts and choirs abound and there is a general air of festivity and happiness as friends greet each other with “Happy Winter Magic!�?BR>
This year a friend mentioned an event that was to be held further out west a week after our winter magic festival. She described it as a fire labyrinth ritual in which a stone labyrinth would be lit at night to be walked with conscious intent and so mark the end of the year and begin a new one, a shedding of the old and birthing of the divine child.

Though I had experienced fire trauma 3 years before, I could not resist the pull and possibility of such a powerful event and it was indeed transformative just like my house fire.

The drive out to the place was delightful, just on sunset with light rain falling, soft rainbows appeared over the hills through which we were travelling; black cockatoos and kangaroos told us this was indeed the Australian countryside.

This country held personal history for me, a hidden history as my Chinese great-grandfather Yap John Hong, married my Anglo-Celtic grandmother, Margaret Lawrence in 1863 at Pipeclay Creek, now called Eurunderee. The Chinese history is still hidden and a lot of it was actively destroyed through the racism that erupted then and continues in the Australian psyche today. My Great Grandfather migrated to Australia in 1850 as a “coolie�?or indentured labourer –another term for slave- from a place called Xiamen (previously Amoy). In looking through family history records over many years I have noticed that individual family members changed the illustrious name of Hong to Hone, Horne, Hanes in the hope of avoiding the attraction of racism . And I can sense the shame and sorrow of this act of survival which permeated the emotional and psychological consciousness of the family.

We reached the property where the event was to be held a little after sunset, it about 50 people had gathered and were sharing in the early dinner. A campfire had been going for some time and the minute I saw it, was reminded of the power of fire and its capricious behaviour during my “house burning�?

This event was an informal affair, no structured ritual here just a leading to the stones when adequately dark, a mention of the solstice, and then drenching of the rags around the stones with kero. Three people were the torchbearers who lit the labyrinth in different parts. The wooden arched entrance was also set ablaze.

We were told by one of the organisers that we were safe, the fire could not touch us or hurt us. I wanted to yell out “NO, That’s not true.I know what it can do. Burn us alive!" but didn’t. Instead I concentrated on managing my fear and going through with this. There was no turning back.

My friend entered first and I soon after, with little flames flapping on either side of a narrow path, we started. In my mind I buckled down, determined to get through for the fear of being burnt was raging now and it felt like the fire was saying ”We meet again Kate. You have unfinished business with me."

Since that day when I lost most of my possessions and almost my life, fire has taken on a living presence, for me it is no longer an element but a force that seeks to personally engage with me. An affirmation came to mind quickly “we must walk our path with deliberation and care"�?as I became aware of how narrow our path in life is, how easy to drop off one side or the other, to be deflected. And I then felt how fragile is life on this planet with extinction awaiting either side of what the cosmologist Brian Swimme calls the “space –time curve.�?

We reached the centre quite quickly and I felt the need to touch the stone placed there. Instead of an ending, that became the beginning to this circular journey. I had not seen the labyrinth in daylight so had no sense of how big it was or how long it might take to walk through it. I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

Though the flames never lost their power for me, I started to feel the presence of my guides and their hands on my shoulders. I was not going to burn or even be singed! I would survive this and through facing the fire would be released even more from its thrall. As we walked in silence and the journey became more familiar, I was able on occasion to shift my gaze to the stars.