I just arrived home yesterday from my first festival of the year. My face is burned to a lovely shade of firelight and my body is aching in places I didn’t even know I had. I used myself up this past week in the pursuit of shenanigans. I’m sleep deprived, dehydrated, and happier than I can ever remember being.
My phone was off almost the entire time, and I mostly left it in the cabin. I did not check into any form of social media except to do a couple of photo dumps.
It was exactly what I needed, and I’ve returned to you here in this space as a paradox. Emptied out. Renewed.
This week’s journal prompt, should you choose to engage it, is:
“How’s my inner fire? Do I feel fired up about anything?”
I laughed when I read the prompt for this week because I actually took a forging workshop this past weekend. I donned safety glasses and massive fire proof gloves, and then…
I was struck, as I struck the iron, with how much like my life this process is – the intense heat of it, the way you must move the metal where you want it with certain, confident blows, striking while its hot, shaping it in accordance with your muscles & will, so it takes the form you want.
If you don’t get it right the first time, it’s okay. You can reheat it, tweak it, move the metal with your strength and a pair of pliers, adjust it while the metal is soft enough to move.
You may not get exactly what you had in mind, but you will get *something like it*, and that’s good enough for me.
My inner fire comes to life at this time of year, every year, as though it has as its primary source that first fire, the struck match that signals a season of frolicking with my friends-who-are-family, so I’m all ablaze with it today, heart full, spirit soaring somewhere above the to do list and the ordinary day.
I am fired up about the work I do in the world, about the love I have to give. I’m fired up about how well my own healing serves me & my community. I’m fired up with courage – I entered an art show this weekend, (and won honourable mention), and read poems in a bardic competition. (WHAT? WHO AM I RIGHT NOW?)
I almost vomited (believe it or not, I have terrible stage fright) but I made it through, I only cried once, and I made the judges cry. WIN.
I made a vow to abide with what is and sealed it with a thousand kisses, knowing as I do now that the fire of my devotion will never go out of its own accord.
I’m in the second half of my life (maybe even the last third), and I’m fired up about packing it as full as I can with all that makes this life worth living. I am fired up about emerging as exactly who I’m meant to be after a lifetime of adapting to what was required of me.
I’m fired up about writing, art, beautiful food. I’m fired up about the soul connections that I tend as though they exist at the centre of my being – my own personal hearth fire.
And I’m fired up about how I might serve you in the years to come, too.
Please join me in The Wilderhood, where these prompts go up every Monday.
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