Once upon a time it was 2019 and everything was fine.
I mean, nothing is ever “fine”, but in 2019 I had a full head of brains and a business that was running pretty well.
Then the pandemic hit a few weeks after my 10-year relationship ended.
That was three years ago, and now my region has barely survived Hurricane Helene, a destructive geological event that has reshaped our land as well as our lives; permanently.
So, things feel fucked.
Again.
I’m writing in hopes that you’ll you feel companioned, understood, and sorta normal about what’s going on for you.
Once upon a time I learned how to build fires when I was about 6 years old at a Brownies meeting.
We learned how to start a fire, kindling.
How to get it to take, tinder.
And how to keep it going, fuel.
We also learned when to bank a fire and let it settle down into a bed of coals.
In 2019, I was tending a nice big fire (my business).
I’d spent years with kindling and tinder, working hard to get the fire going.
By 2019 she was a’goin’ good — as warm as it was beautiful; pure joy to gather around.
All I had to do was keep ‘er goin’ by throwing on logs in the form of classes at Darkwood, archetype readings, and scent rituals.
So when the pandemic hit, it was as if my big pile of logs was suddenly gone; a had nothing to throw on the fire to keep it going.
Then about 4 years later, just as things began to feel hopeful again, Hurricane Helene ravaged my hometown and surrounding region.
It’s hard to tend anything when you’ve had the breath knocked out of you, the life scared out of you, or the shit kicked out of you.
You know?
So once again, I found myself just sitting by my fire, leaning on the fire-poking stick in a shroud of tension, frustration, and hopelessness; frozen and under-resourced.
The last of the logs whistled into night, the warmth receding.
And once again, just like in 2020, I was afraid that it was gonna go out before I had the strength or the focus to stoke it, much less build it all over again.
But this time, I knew what to do.
Once again, I got down on my metaphorical knees with my metaphorical face right near the ground, and I blew.
I filled my lungs with air and blew straight at the place where the fire used to be.
I saw a glow build up.
I sat up and held my hands over this spot and felt a whole lot of warmth.
Coals.
I got back down and blew on the coals again, harder this time.
That fire leapt right up, hungry.
Coals, ya’ll.
The fire wasn’t out one bit, even though it looked like it was.
Maybe you’ve got a bed of coals, too?
Maybe there’s something in your life that you’ve had a real long time, like a relationship, or a job, or a dream, but it’s been quiet or seemingly destroyed.
You put in years of kindling and years of tinder, and for a while she was a’goin’ good.
And then something happened and you stopped adding to it, stopped tending it.
Because you just couldn’t.
And the whole time you were scared to death that you’d let this thing go out — this warm, beautiful thing.
Some things are a bed of coals, ready to re-kindle (and some fires do need to go all the way out).
But the fires you want can leap right back up.
It’s ok to bank a fire.
It’s ok to preserve resources and just let the coals be.
Lifelong friendships, businesses with heft and purpose, hardwired skillsets and aptitudes can be “coals”.
One day, and you’ll know when because you’ll finally be strong enough and resourced enough to tend it again, you’ll just blow on the coals and voila, fire.
The point is, you won’t always have the energy to tend, even the things you hold dear; even the things that keep you alive.
But if there’s a good enough bed of coals, rest assured that the fire is still there.
So, has something brought you to your knees?
Good.
Now you are well positioned to bend down and blow on your coals.
Because you are meant to contribute, influence, and inspire.
People are seeking the warmth and reassurance of your fire.
As I write to you, I have a nice warm fire in time for Spring Equinox and Girl Child season.
Come sit by it, hang out with me and write, listen, or anoint.
This is the way of things. My fire could help re-kindle and stoke yours, and then yours will help others.
And together we create warmth, welcome, and a way forward.
love and determination,
xo
kv
