Daring to Burn in the Fire

A full moon invocation for those rebuilding themselves from the ashes of truth, grief, and divine becoming.

They warned me that when you step into the fire, you will not recognize your own skin. That your hands, your eyes, your breath, even your bones would feel unfamiliar. That the world would feel heavier, and yet lighter, all at once.

But I learned: the fire does not consume – it refines. It melts away the unnecessary, the worn-out, the illusions layered over the soul. It cracks the bones of pretense and softens the hardened heart. It burns away the fear of being seen, the fear of being vulnerable, the fear of daring to live fully in your own power.

I was not built for safety. I was built for the molten truth. I was forged in the secret chambers where grief and love collide, where the divine flickers and tests you, where the shadow waits patiently for you to call it forth.

I have walked through law corridors, love’s illusions, family deaths, separation’s blade, and the shadowed alleys of my own mind. I have faced the echoes of betrayal, the whispers of self-doubt, and the gnawing loneliness that comes when the world sees only what it wants to see.

And always: I whispered to spirit. Always: I called to the unseen and listened for the answer in wind, in feathered wings, in echoes beneath the moonlight. Always: I knelt in the quiet, heart trembling, offering my fear and hope together as prayer.

I learned that nothing dies wholly. Everything shifts form. Even what seems lost returns as a ghost, a guide, a spark. The owl that fell to earth. The ravens that circled my windows. The wind that twisted through the trees at midnight. They taught me how to translate the invisible into flesh, how to turn grief into song, fear into ritual, shadow into illumination, pain into prayer.

Tonight, under this full moon, I call across the ethers:

Who among you burns too?

Who among you feels bones crack, wings unfold, shadows stir their hunger, and yet the heart dares to beat, to love, to hope, to rise again?

Who among you has stood at the edge of despair and still whispered, “I am here. I am alive. I will not be undone”?

If your world is collapsing – I say: lean into the collapse. Let the earth tremble beneath you. Let the storms outside mirror the storms within. Let the center fractal. Let the old skin fall. Let it rustle like dry leaves in your hands, let it curl into smoke, let it feed the altar of your becoming.

Stand naked in your grief. Stand unarmed and unshaken, with every fear laid bare. Greet the judgments, the fears, the hunger. Offer them as sacrament. Transform them into art, ritual, light, music, ink, movement, breath, dance, song, and prayer.

I do not ask for spectators; I demand co-conspirators. You who come – you who risk. Speak your yearnings. Weave your warp. Illuminate with what’s left of you, even if it trembles or shakes. Even if the flame is tiny. Even if it frightens you.

We are the ones who hold the cords. We are the ones who keep the flame alive. We are the ones who remember what it feels like to burn without being destroyed. We are the keepers of thresholds, the translators of shadow, the wild ones who dare to turn suffering into creation.

We are not done. We are becoming. We are rising from the ash, from the shadow, from the unspoken and unseen. Each heartbeat is a drum. Each breath is a signal to the cosmos. Each spark is a rebellion against silence. Each ember is proof of survival, of growth, of transformation.

Let the fire lick your edges. Let it touch the scars, the hollowed spaces, the old betrayals, the corners of your heart you’ve kept locked. Let it touch the parts of you you’ve hidden even from yourself. This is the flame of resurrection. The flame of initiation. The flame that remembers you are never alone in your becoming.

Step into it. Step fully, without shame. Step into the wild, the raw, the divine. Your presence here matters. Your fire matters. Your shadow matters. Your laughter, your tears, your whispered prayers, your quiet rage – all of it fuels the altar of life.

We are the fire. We are the ash. We are the sparks that ignite other sparks. We are the living invocation, the ritual, the rebirth.

We are becoming.

We are unstoppable.

We are infinite.

We are alive.

#Transformation #SpiritualAwakening #ShadowWork #DivineFeminine #Alchemy #HealingJourney #FireMagic #FullMoonRitual #Rebirth #EmbodiedPower #SpiritualArt #SacredActivation