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Processing the Fire Within

Sometimes the world opens up and sometimes it closes in.

Like a passing cloud, where rays of sunshine hit your skin and suddenly you feel warm for just a minute. Then the clouds come by, obscuring the light.

I think sometimes we may forget that there is warmth inside. Waiting to be rekindled. It may be a small flame, a flicker of an ember but it is there.

Where is your kindling? What lights you up? A question I ask myself sometimes.

The things that light my inner fire is being rediscovered.

I love to drum. I love to draw. I love to listen to music, feel music. I love to sing. I love to sit in the sun. I love to daydream. I love to watch the clouds pass by. I love to be. I love to breathe.

The fire dampens when I think about how to monetize those tangible things, my gifts. Your kindling shouldn't be something that is monetized. I don't know...

I think we all can have jobs to do but your job shouldn't be directly tied to keeping your fire alive nor should it be something that sucks the fire from your limbs, from your core.

A job is a job is a job.

But why can't jobs be in environments that add to your life? Well, they can. But what does that look like for someone who is gender expansive, Queer, and Black? What does that look like?

I did type up a vision of what it could look like and perhaps I have to go looking for it. But I'm also trying to honor the idea of ease, of rest... Because too much thinking can lead you in circles. But then again actioning is not thinking perse.

The world keeps spinning and so does my head. The paths get clearer but my belief in them shifts. Which one is right? Which one brings the greatest joy? Which one allows me to dream? To rest? To seek? Which one allows me to live? Or which one do I feel safe enough to believe I can do those things?

Whew. The sorrow here, in this country, in this world is great... But so is the joy. How do we keep our connection open to it? How do we tend our fire?

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