Burning the side of a mountain

I couldn’t take my eyes off the flame. I suppose I knew the word “destroyer” was floating around without assigned meaning, but it was certainly not a conscious thought when I devoted one-hundred percent of my attention to the tiny dancing flame.

We were asked to begin at the base of a mountain and face our shadow. There I was, balancing on a ball of air staring at a girl on fire. I named her E. I am not sure why, but the letter “E” was the only thing that felt right. What did I need to acknowledge? She told me that I needed to know I was powerful. I thought about Zachary’s red shoes. How in wearing them he felt present in the red space, the power space. I, however, had not. Wearing red shoes did not make me any sassier, or feel more powerful. I considered my toying with red in other ways….we’re they silent prayers for power? I moved up the mountain.

Her legs moved into the earth and she left a trail of blazing rock behind her guises as orange red and golden locks. All part of her, leaving nothing behind. What was she here to teach me? She said, very matter of factly, you act as though things happen to you only…as if you were not intimately involved in the creation of your path. When are you going to take responsibility for your part? I felt her. My skin began to warm and while I must have known it was “just” a visualization as Dumbledore warned, “just because its happening in your head doesn’t mean it isn’t real.” I allowed myself to consider my recent prayers. And to flicker across the adage, Faith without Works is dead. I moved up the mountain.

I felt my neck sweating and then my face. She wanted me to hold the flames. I couldn’t. I was too afraid of burning myself and worse, being unable to control the flame outside of myself. What if I hurt someone? What if I destroy everything? She said, oh? That was all she said. But I heard my questions back again reverberating in the space between us. As it is with my air, I do not create it I only work with it, I move in and around the currents that exist outside of and independent of myself. The same must be true of fire, I reasoned. I moved up the mountain.

imageIt was here that I looked around for her and saw no one else. It was only myself and the sun, only I was wide open, hollow and the energy from the sun was pulsing like a current through me. And while there was no fire, I was hot. The fire was in me. I crossed my legs and balanced on my small sphere of air. I allowed myself to feel the source energy, this wild and vibrant scorching energy that danced thought my being, and I raised a hand, my left hand, and produced a tiny flame. I laughed despite myself, hot damn. I am an avatar.

I took a mental snapshot of myself making a promise to sketch it later (here). I also took note of what just happened. Jessica, you have to acknowledge your power. You cannot ignore it, and destruction is not the enemy of creation. In making an adversary of destruction, I was limiting myself to only living the life I’ve been given rather than creating the one of my imagination. Sometimes things need to be destroyed, set ablaze before new things can emerge.

I can still feel her with me. Every time we breathe my spirit ignites with the warmth of pure source.

I understand.

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