We burn with embarrassment, with shame, with rage. Our bodies burn during moments – or, if we are lucky, hours! – of sexual passion. We burn when ill, during the menopause, when over-heated, when struck by foolish over-indulgence in the sun.
Our bodies respond sensibly and readily to sources of heat – both internal and external. Burning is, often, an early-warning system.
We refer to someone who attracts us sexually as ‘hot’. The imprint of a lover’s hands during love-making is said to burn.
Our bodies speak vociferously and autonomically, don’t they? We have no control over those signs of blood boiling in cheeks, genitals, necks, chests. No matter how much control we have over our minds, we cannot prevent the tell-tale stain of a blush, nor would we wish to inhibit the roseate glow all over which betokens sexual arousal.
We burn with love and inspiration as well. The spirit which moves us creatively is always seen as more akin to forge than fridge!
The colours of passion are those of fire, of danger – reds predominantly!
There seems to be this strong link between strong emotions, especially those which involve sex, and pain, fire, shame, burning, blushing. Excitement is heat. The more intense the excitement, the greater the heat. Volcanic, we are, at the point of orgasm, ejaculation and eruption, semen and molten lava!
But then we come from, and are composed of, the Earth, our Mother. We are made of the same materials – and go back to the Mother at the moment of our passing.
Burning is life, is the potential for composition! Cooling down is post-climax, end of a love affair, lessening of fury – and, ultimately, the body sloughing off its spirit and settling down to the serious business of decomposition.