Walking Through Fire: The Night Everything Changed by Felicity O’Brien

Watch the video above.

If you’d told me a few months ago that I’d walk barefoot across a bed of burning embers, I’d have laughed, nervously sipped my tea, and said, “Not a chance.” But life has a way of surprising you.

When Chris Jones from the Firewalk Experience first called me back, I wasn’t planning to make history at our school. I was just curious. I’d heard from another PTA that their event had been “life changing.” I remember thinking, How can walking on fire be life-changing? Ten minutes into that call, I understood. I hung up, turned to the rest of our brand-new PTA team, and said the words that started it all: “We’re doing this.”

We’d only formed the Blue School PTA in September, barely half a term before. We didn’t have a long history of big fundraisers, just a lot of enthusiasm and a shared dream to do something that brought parents, children, and teachers together. I wanted an event that would unite us, make memories, and maybe, just maybe, light a spark of courage in everyone.

Of course, when I told people the plan, the reactions were priceless.

“You’re doing what?”, “You mean real fire?”, “You’ve actually lost it!”

Maybe I had.

But once we’d spoken with Chris on a group Zoom call, the madness turned into excitement. His energy was infectious. He showed us videos of other schools doing it, parents and teachers cheering, children chanting, faces glowing in the firelight. I could see it so clearly, the same energy, the same magic, right here at our school.

In the weeks that followed, the buzz grew. We introduced the idea in assembly, sharing the “Legowalk” for the kids so they could join the fun safely. That’s when it really took off. Suddenly, children were coming up to us in the playground saying, “I’ve been practising on Lego at home!” The teachers joined in too, joking nervously, but secretly (I hoped) thrilled.

Still, a few weeks before the event, panic hit.

Ticket sales were slow. I had one of those wobbly moments and I sent Chris an email asking what happens if we have to cancel. He replied with a message that completely turned things around. It was powerful, uplifting, full of belief. I shared it with the team, and overnight everything changed. Tickets sold. Parents signed up. The community came alive.

Then came the night itself.

The playground was glowing under fairy lights and the smell of burgers and hot chocolate filled the air. The fire team arrived, unloading a pile of wood. Excitement was building, but there was also this strange hush, that kind you get before something extraordinary.

Inside, as we gathered for the training, you could feel the tension. People were jittery, whispering, fidgeting. The air buzzed with nerves. Then Chris began speaking. Calm, confident, commanding the room. And slowly the energy shifted. His words transformed our collective nerves into something fierce.

We prepared to go out to walk, the doors opened, and the roar of the crowd hit us like thunder.

Children chanting names, teachers clapping, parents cheering, it was electric. I looked around at the other firewalkers, and it honestly felt like we were stepping into an arena. For a moment, I thought, So this is what it feels like to be a rock star.

All too soon it was my turn to walk fire.

Chris looked at me, grinning. “Are you sure you want to do this? It’s really hot.”
That single sentence lit something inside me. I took a breath, stepped forward, and walked.

The world disappeared.

There was no sound, no fear, no thought, just power.

When I stepped off the coals, I felt weightless.

Everything I’d been worrying about, the stress, the doubt, the endless planning, it all burned away. I turned around just to make sure I’d really done it, because it hadn’t even hurt. I was too caught up in the rush, too filled with energy to feel anything but exhilaration.

And of course, before hand we all said we’d only do it the once. It would be mad to firewalk more than once. Right?

You can guess how that went.

We couldn’t resist.

Almost everyone went again. The second time was even more powerful. Hotter, yes, but calmer somehow. I was laughing as I walked, soaking in the cheers, the energy, the firelight reflecting in everyone’s faces. We weren’t just walking across embers; we were walking through fear itself, and coming out stronger.

After the firewalk, I didn’t sleep.

My phone was full of messages, parents saying thank you, teachers saying they felt “bigger,” like they were taking up more space in the world. One wrote, “I didn’t think I could do it. Now I know I can do anything.” That line still gives me chills.

We raised over £3,200 in just a few days, and more came in after.

The money is wonderful of course, but what we gained was something far richer. We built confidence. We built community. We built a sense of we did this together.

The next morning, walking through the playground, everything looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same. People smiled wider. They stood taller. There was this quiet pride in the air. We were all members of a secret club now, bonded by something unspoken but real.

For me personally, something fundamental shifted.

I’ve always been a little nervous about big challenges, but this changed that. I found  courage that I didn’t know I had, and once you’ve walked through fire, you stop underestimating yourself.

Would we do it again? Absolutely. In fact, I think people would riot if we didn’t.

Seeing so many staff members join in reminded me what community really means. It’s parents and teachers, children and friends, all cheering each other on, all daring to do something extraordinary together.

And that’s the real power of the firewalk. It isn’t just about the flames beneath your feet. It’s about the fire it lights inside you, the belief that you are stronger than you think, braver than you imagined, and capable of anything when you walk together.

If you’re reading this and wondering whether to do it, don’t think. Just do it. Step forward. Feel the heat. Trust yourself.

Because sometimes the only way to discover what you’re made of is to walk through fire.

You can listen to Felicity on our podcast HERE.