Tend the Fire, Not the Crowd

A funny thing happened recently while I was thinking about future Campfires. 

I was imagining what the journey might look like. 

Maybe the first Campfire would just be me. 

A cup of coffee. 

A camera. 

A quiet conversation about the month’s quests. 

Maybe a few months later a friend might join. 

Maybe later a few Realmwalkers. 

Maybe someday a larger gathering around the fire. 

As soon as I imagined that future, I felt something unexpected. 

Resistance. 

Not because I feared people showing up. 

Because I feared too few people showing up. 

The thought arrived almost immediately: 

“What if there are only a handful of people there two years from now?” 

Fortunately, Realmwalkers has given me a useful lens for moments like this. 

Whenever a strong emotional reaction appears, it is often worth asking: 

“Which Shadow just walked into the room?” 

After sitting with it for a while, I realized the answer wasn’t the Hollow Judge. 

It wasn’t the Lantern Eater. 

It wasn’t even the Audience Oracle. 

It was the Shadow Mastiff. 

The Shadow Mastiff specializes in possible futures. 

It prowls ahead of the traveler asking endless questions: 

“What if?” 

“What if it doesn’t work?” 

“What if nobody comes?” 

“What if things take longer than you hope?” 

The Mastiff’s favorite trick is turning possibilities into certainties. 

The moment we start treating imagined futures as facts, the Mastiff begins wagging its tail. 

The interesting thing is that nothing had actually happened. 

There was no disappointing Campfire. 

No empty room. 

No evidence. 

Only a future that existed entirely inside my imagination. 

And yet my emotions reacted as though it were real. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized something important. 

I don’t actually control who gathers around the fire. 

I control whether I tend it. 

That’s it. 

I can create videos. 

I can write blog posts. 

I can design quests. 

I can build guides. 

I can show up each month with a cup of coffee and a story from the road. 

I can place another log on the fire. 

What I cannot control is when someone discovers it. 

Or who discovers it. 

Or how many people discover it. 

The Caravan arrives when the Caravan arrives. 

That’s not surrender. 

It’s perspective. 

A campfire is not valuable because of how many people sit around it. 

A campfire is valuable because it provides warmth when people arrive. 

The funny thing is that most campfires begin the same way. 

One person gathers wood. 

One person strikes a spark. 

One person tends the flame. 

Only later do others notice the light. 

So these days, when I catch myself staring too far down the road, I try to remember something simple: 

My job is not to count travelers. 

My job is to tend the fire. 

The road ahead will take care of itself. 

For now, there are still logs to place on the flames.