Fire and Ink

I struggled with my fear of fire for decades and I just don’t any longer.

I have reclaimed the fire as mine and I own the dancing flames as an essential ingredient to the magic I am here to facilitate in this space and time.

For years I have had this sense of my left hand being tugged when I am heading in an aligned direction. It’s as if my future self is giving me a subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) sign that I am on the right path.

As I have leaned into this side of myself, the side the believes in magic and guides, crystals and energy, future casting and healing ancestral lines, I have become more colorful.

Colorful in my language (yes I really do love the word fuck), colorful in my writings, colorful in my clothes, and even colorful in my hair. It’s as if I fill up with color the more deeply I am connected with who I am designed to be.

My past I see in black and white – words on a page – the only color coming from a dark remembrance. As I continue to stride into my future the color has overflowed onto my skin. The fire flows from the book, the panther stalks, the manta ray glides with grace, and the dragonfly whispers its message to any who choose to listen.

My tattoo isn’t finished but I want to share my fiery reclamation.  

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