Sacred Fire
Today everything snapped. Literally.
A lady asked to meet. I said yes. It started well enough. But then I left and everything began to unravel.
I went to the wrong place. I pulled out my headphones in frustration—Shox headphones, expensive, perfect for riding with my helmet—and they snapped. Just like that.
Then I rode in the exact opposite direction of where I needed to be. When I finally arrived, I rested the helmet on the wing mirror. It slipped. Crack. The visor broke.
And it wasn’t even my helmet.
By the time I sat down to meet her, I wasn’t present. I couldn’t be. My energy was gone. I was furious. But more than anything—I was furious at myself.
The inner voice came in like a swarm:
You idiot.
You’re always angry.
You’re never going to change.
I told her I needed to go. I wandered around for nearly an hour afterward, trying to find someone—anyone—who could fix what had broken. No one could. I just couldn’t find the places people pointed me toward. It felt like the universe was ensuring that nothing would get fixed.
Eventually, I gave up. And that was the real moment everything started to shift.
—It Wasn’t About the Headphones—
What I realised—when I finally got home, sat down, and breathed—was this:
This wasn’t about headphones. Or helmets. Or even the woman I couldn’t sit with.
It was about pressure.
The unbearable intensity of doing so much, holding so much, feeling so much, without having a place to just fucking drop it all.
It was Mercury Retrograde.
Mars squaring Mars.
The Moon activating my 4th house wounds.
But deeper still, it was my sacred fire trying to speak.
—The Sacred Fire in Me—
I’m the guy people come to for healing. For guidance. For truth.
I hold others in their pain.
I write teachings on parasites, SHILT, planetary service, trauma, legacy.
I dissolve identities.
I launch courses.
I burn old lives down to make space for the New Earth.
But sometimes—I burn myself in the process.
And today was one of those days.
I screamed. I cursed. I shamed myself.
Until I remembered:
Fire isn’t here to be suppressed.
It’s here to be transmuted.
Today, my fire broke through the glass.
Today, I remembered I’m still human.
And in that remembering, I came home to myself.
—Mythic Mirror: Hephaestus in My 6th House—
In my astrological chart, I carry the archetype of Hephaestus—the god of fire, forge, and sacred craftsmanship—right in my 6th house in Aries.
This is the house of daily ritual, body, service, and work. It’s the place where the spiritual becomes practical, where the invisible becomes embodied.
And in that very same house? My Venus and Mars — the lovers.
Venus, the magnetic heart. Mars, the sacred sword.
In mythology, Venus was married to Hephaestus. But she ran to Mars.
It’s a story of betrayal — but also of integration.
Because I am all three:
- Hephaestus — building the forge of the New Earth
- Mars — raw fire, unfiltered drive
- Venus — the longing for beauty, connection, harmony
When those forces are fragmented within me, I feel the collapse.
But when they unify — when I let Hephaestus craft from fire, let Mars move with clarity, and Venus soften the edges — then I become whole.
This is the real work. The sacred forge. The invisible legacy.
—What This Means for You (And Me)—
If you’ve ever felt ashamed for your rage.
If you’ve ever broken something and then broken yourself with words afterward.
If you’ve ever left a moment thinking, “I’m too much, I’m a mess, I should be better than this”—
I see you.
Sacred fire isn’t meant to be pretty.
It’s meant to be true.
And today, mine burned everything fake out of me.
So let this be a line in the sand:
I am not here to be tame.
I am not here to smile when I mean scream.
I am not here to carry peace if it costs me truth.
I am sacred fire.
And from now on—
I burn clean.
—When Nothing Gets Fixed—
And maybe, just maybe— Today wasn’t about finding a repair shop.
Today was about finding my limit—and honoring it.
Sometimes spirit makes sure nothing gets fixed—
So that something else finally can.
I stopped searching.
And in that stopping, I came back to me.
Let the broken things remain broken a little longer.
There’s medicine in the unfixable.main broken a little longer.
There’s medicine in the unfixable.
Later that evening, I had a conversation with Pen—
a woman whose knowledge of mythology opened a deeper portal.
Through the way she shared the story, something softened in me.
Her nature, her knowing, her voice—it allowed me to settle into this realisation:
that Hephaestus, Venus, and Mars were not a triangle of betrayal,
but an invitation to commune.
A divine forge.
A sacred alliance.
Not war, not rejection, not shame—
but the reconciliation of power, passion, and love.
And now, I know I can sit at that table with all three.
And become whole.
