I used to be made of fire. Hot headed and quick to destroy what hurt me, what I feared, what I didn’t understand. Sharp edged and angry, twisting with fury, cutting through life with the heat of frustration and impatience. Burning, burning.
These days, I move more like water. Purposefully carving, quietly yielding, still forging through. My edges have cooled and my compassion flows deep. Softly, gently.
My fire is still within me, but now it serves me. I burn now with the passion to face the fury instead of fuel it; to lean into it with an unexpected tenderness. A subtle but potent peace that only I can offer, or even perceive.
It may be imperceptible outside these walls, but my landscape has shifted powerfully. All from simply, but steadfastly, holding space for my elemental nature.
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