We Are Volcanoes

[vc_row][vc_column][mk_dropcaps style=”fancy-style” size=”50″ padding=”20″ background_color=”#e8e8e8″ text_color=”#4d4d4d”]W[/mk_dropcaps][vc_column_text p_margin_bottom=”20″ width=”1/1″ el_position=”first last”]e are volcanoes. A fire rises from our bellies, from the secret caverns of our hearts. We bring the fire to the surface, altering the landscape, carrying the promise of molten renewal. Our eruptions are not temper tantrums or mommy meltdowns. They are sourced from deepest rage, deepest love, deepest passion. A passion so pure and certain that it can melt the rocks and turn everything in its path to dust. We are volcanoes. We didn’t come here with a program that says, “You must ask for permission.” We didn’t come here to be predictable or apologetic. We didn’t come here with an explanation. When a volcano becomes confused about her nature, when she tries to be a well-behaved mountain, the land suffers. Without the renewal of death, without the richness of mineralized light, the land becomes heavy. No one knows when to die, it’s just birth. It becomes a cancer. In the deep red heart of every cell, in the white-heat heart of the Earth, the songs of Pele are sung. In our cells, we call these mitochondria. They are the source of our power, literally. With their own DNA, distinct from all the other DNA we carry, they teach the cell how to be powerful, how be born and how to die. The DNA codes of our mitochondria passed down from mother only. Through woman, through every generation, our mitochondria take us in backwards dance all the way to First Woman, all the way to She who first imprinted the Earth with Her feet. Plant your feet on the Earth now, feel Her fire in your veins, in your cells, programming all the ways you must die to your old self in order to truly live. These same codes a living structure, a mandala, deep in the belly of the Earth. They map the moment when the time has come to begin again. And while there is grief, there is no remorse. We are that liquid fire. We are that portal of wisdom. Death no longer stalks us; we stalk it. We no longer run away, avoid, play pretend for the sake of appearances. We no longer think that maybe, if we just knew a little more, we could know our way out of feeling. The dance we do is descent and rise, descent and rise. When you are a volcano and you try to behave, try to play by rules not actually made for you, your power is bartered for addiction. Being separated from Love, which is your true power, you’ll reach for anything to take the edge off. Listen to me now: your Love is a wild creature, not meant to be tamed, not meant to be a pet, not meant to live indoors. Your power is sourced in the wild, rhythmic and holy cycles of your being. The cycles in you a perfect mirror of monsoon, rainbow, moon and stars. You are a volcano. You didn’t come here to live a strait line. My invitation to you, dear volcano: listen for the song of Pele in the rhythmic dance of your heart. Listen for Her in all the ways you are irregular. Let yourself be healed by inviting life in, inviting that hot lava of power and wild to flow as it will. Wear your crown of fire and let your heart burn bright. This world needs the renewal only you can bring. *image from mythicalrealm.com + science.com

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