And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flames are in-folded 
Into the crowned knot of fire 
And the fire and the rose are one.

This passage from T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets sums up all the teachings of all the buddhas. I hesitate to say anything else. 

Staring into the campfire here at 6,500 feet in elevation, near the banks of East lake, I see tongues of flame leaping about. They burn around Vajravarahi, in whose crown a squealing pig announces the liberation of our ignorance. 

Walking along a ribbon of water called Paulina Creek where wild roses bloom in profusion, I see flames inside each flower burning my illusions about form. 

Fire brings all elements together. Earth, water, wind, and space, collide in the rapid oxidation of flames. All wisdom is mingled together in one wild dance. The dakinis are here to liberate, not to confuse. Our confusion comes when we try to make sense of it all.

All is well and all manner of thing is well when we allow our ‘self’ to burn in the crown of our ignorance. And the fire and the rose, well, you know the rest.