There is a part of my being that gets wound up, like a fiery wild tornado, and will burn the world down, taking with her all the energy she can consume.
I call her my advocate. She doesn’t get worked up for nothing – it’s always in service of something she deeply believes in.
She wants to protect the trees and the planet, women to have bodily rights, fair pay and safe living conditions for everyone. She wants an end to every type of body supremacy and objectification; she wants all bodies to be accepted and feel worthy of love. She’s determined to fight against overwork, save everyone from mental illness, trauma, and burnout and, if she had a megaphone, would be yelling about calming the nervous system (and she is so absorbed in getting out her message, she cannot stop to appreciate that irony). She will not stop until she finds the perfect words to convince everyone to see it how she sees it.
There are days where it feels like my body cannot contain her and she will rob me of sleep and everything else I have if I can’t find a way to appease her. She means so well, but she is also too much. She cannot be bargained with – she will only accept appreciation and agreement, and she is unmovable.
One facet of healing is learning how to let her be a part of me, but not letting her be the director of this show, as hungry as she is for that role. She might sound like a Karen, but she resents being dismissed because she is determined that she is ultimately working for good and her voice is needed. I’ve also tried cutting her off and banishing her – but that’s like shutting the door on an over-zealous sales person who just keeps talking and banging on the door, saying whatever it takes to regain attention. Silencing her just makes her yell louder. She is relentless and she will be heard, except that just listening to her is not enough.
Approval, then, is how to give her what she wants. She wants to be valued for her passion and her fire. She is my inner fire goddess, my Aries sun, my freedom fighter, wholeheartedly devoted to living fully and vibrantly, without shame or constraint.
So I imagine her burning bright, lighting everything up, sweeping everything she touches, everything she wants. Banishing the shadows, transforming whatever is in her path. Fire can destroy, but it also cleanses. It turns matter into energy. In my body, this passion feels like hot, consuming flames, and I have to stand back and watch them burn. As she glows, the energy she contained releases and dissipates.
And that’s when I realize that I am a rock, I am rooted to the earth in a form that can be warmed and melted, but not burned. Unmovable, solid, nestled into the ground. And this solidness lives in my center, channels the water of my creativity, and is my refuge from which to be warmed and enlightened by the fire of my passions. But I am not my creativity or my passion. They can move me, create feeling and sensation inside of me. They are not solid, but I am, and I am the container that holds them but gives them the space to move as they need to inside of me.
This is the place the vision ends. I wonder what part of me is air, something I’m sure I’ll discover another day, at a another time. Maybe this becomes the birthplace of what I’m longing to make this year – a series of photos inspired by fire and light – or maybe it simply is a metaphor that brings me toward a deeper understanding of myself. There’s no question that metaphors, archetypes, and symbolism have been some of my favorite teachers.