We are told that primitive man lived in perpetual fear of the dark until he discovered fire. With its discovery was created a circle within which safety was assured. Fire and technology have pushed back the darkness and its accompanying fear until we have reached the stage where there is so little darkness, we no longer even recognize it.

While for early humans the fears were real and tangible — there were things that went bump in the night and were more than happy to eat them, and the light provided by fire was a necessity for survival — that is not the case for contemporary people. The light we have now does not serve to keep our community safe from predators and physical harm; it actually encourages us to live in fear by blinding us to its existence.

Our technology, combined with a philosophy that deems time not spent in gainful pursuit sinful, ensures that there is little or no room left for introspection. Without those moments of pause, seconds in which we can catch our breath, we are denied the opportunity to examine the fears that dominate us.

Although our attitudes have changed in recent years towards the practice of psychiatry and other analytical processes, there is still a stigma attached to those who have made use of these facilities. Conversely, there has been an outbreak of "self-help" books that offer band-aid solutions but very little assistance of substance.

Ten Easy Steps That Will Make You A Better You could be the subtitle for all of these books. Each of them promises to put a bounce in your step, a smile on your face, and if you're really doing well, money in your pocket. "Come to the light" is their empty promise and false blandishment: Blind yourself even further so you can forget the misapprehensions and fears you have about your life and the world.

It is fitting that in the opening of his book The Great Western Divide, John Spivey invites us to sit at a fire with him. It's a small fire, only bright enough to illuminate the author's and the reader's faces as they sit together with the ancient darkness pressing in around them. It's a very small circle of safety that he offers, both for himself and those who are listening.

Fires have always been places where we can gather for storytelling; even today a lot of us have memories of camp cookouts where the fire became brighter as the night deepened. Then the stories would be told. Usually stories that made us scared of the dark, stories that made us recall primitive times by huddling closer to the safety of the flames.