Out of the blue, I got a handwritten letter from a skydiving buddy. It was weird because we had never exchanged letters. Inside the envelope was a short note that read: “Ed, you gotta try this, it’s for real! It’s an eye-opener!” There was also a brochure featuring a woman in a flowing dress, arms outstretched, walking across what looked like white pebbles. The brochure title screamed: “Transformation through Fire” and “Turn Your Fear and Limitations into Power and Success.” Turns out, she was firewalking! My first thought? My brother had gone off the deep end. What crazy drug did he find? We both had tons of skydives under our belts and even helped develop new techniques for the sport. We weren’t strangers to conquering fear. So, for him to say this firewalking thing was life-changing, well, that definitely piqued my curiosity. I stashed the letter away, but a week later, I found myself calling the woman on the brochure. We had a nice chat, and she told me the next firewalking session was happening in San Francisco in a week, with a limit of only 20 participants. I should book right away, she said.
The timing worked because my family would be away on a trip, so I booked it. Immediately after, major buyer’s remorse kicked in! “What did you just do?” was my first thought. I didn’t tell anyone about my firewalking commitment just in case I chickened out.
All week, I wavered but finally decided to at least attend the seminar and see it firsthand before making a final call.
The seminar started at sunset, around 6 PM. The leader and everyone else seemed super nice and supportive. Over the next 3 hours, we stacked firewood, lit it up, raked the ashes into a 4×10-foot rectangle, took breaks, and shared our reasons for being there. Most were first-timers, all wanting to conquer a huge challenge, prove their inner strength, and face even bigger obstacles. Two women had walked before, gotten burned, and were back to prove themselves. Then there was this one guy who set off alarm bells for me. He spoke in a barely audible whisper and said he “never seemed to do anything right.” He looked totally out of place. Having taught many people to skydive, jumping out of a plane solo with a static line parachute opening (before the current tandem method), I would’ve been worried about this guy’s ability to function safely during a jump.
As the firewalking began, everyone cheered and chanted encouragement. I was third in line. Stepping up to the fire pit, the wind shifted, blowing the heat right at me. It was HOT. For a fleeting moment, doubt flickered, but I took a step, focusing on pushing fear aside. Four steps later, my feet were splashing in the small pool of water at the end of the 10-foot pit. It happened so quickly, so smoothly. With each step, I could feel my feet firmly pushing me forward. I felt heat, but no pain.
Emerging from the water, the first thing I did was check my feet. Shockingly, there were no burn marks! I cheered and chanted along with everyone until there was a lull, and I figured everyone had walked. Still in disbelief, I walked back to the starting point and did it again! This time, it was effortless, almost gliding. Euphoria washed over me as I inspected my miraculously unburnt (just a bit red) feet. I wasn’t sure if anyone else went for a second round; I was too busy marveling at my perfectly fine feet.
The mood suddenly shifted to confusion. Then I saw why. The quiet guy hadn’t walked, and people were urging him on. The cheering and chanting resumed, but he just stood there at the edge of the ashes, hesitant to take that first step. I couldn’t just stand by. It mirrored a situation I’d faced many times as a jumpmaster – putting a student on the jump step for their first solo jump. If they shook their head no or froze at the “go” command, I’d pull them back in, talk it out, rebuild their confidence, and get them committed while circling for another try.
I walked over, took his left hand firmly in my right, looked him in the eyes, and said in a friendly but firm voice, “On Three.” We faced the pit together, and I slowly counted aloud: “One, Two…” On “Three,” we both stepped off. Four steps later, we were sharing a splash in the water at the other end! We hugged tightly, the positive energy around us signaling the end of the seminar.
Writing this now, years later, new realizations about that experience keep popping up. I believe that it wasn’t just me who helped him across those coals, it was the collective group energy that propelled us both, and allowed us to be successful.
