It occurred to me some years ago that settling isn't part of my DNA. In fact, the mere idea breeds contempt in the depths of my soul. Why so?
I probably inhaled a little too much smoke as a child. When I was 5 yrs old, my brother turned my wooden sandbox on the side of the house, then pushed me in and lit a match. I don't recall who saved me, but I know my Mother was fuming!
Everyone learned a valuable lesson that day. My mother hid her matches. My brother wears a permanent scar on his finger from my mother burning it on the stove (an eye for an eye, I guess). And I became a keen temperature taker.
I like things that are hot. I have to feel something to know that I'm alive. Where there's feeling, there's passion. And where there's passion, there's a flame.
Raw passion comes from real friction. When you rub two things together long enough, it creates a spark. And it only takes a spark to get a fire going ;-)
If Your Life Isn't on Fire... perhaps it's time to light a match!