Friday, September 11, 2009


At the Goddess Conference this summer, three fires were lit for walking: the maiden, mother, and crone.

Having just borne a child, the mother fire called me.

The ritual for walking across this fire called for an offering to be made, something to feed the fire, something for the fire to consume.

My post-partum period was one of the most difficult of my life. One of the most vicious demons that haunted me was perfectionism. So I offered it, along with some incense, to the mother fire.

And, though I wasn't expecting to find the strength, I walked.

It was exhilarating.

It was a gift.

It was a healing.

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