Most of the time I live my life in extremes. I am intense, passionate, deep, addictive. I like to leap across the sky in oranges and crackle with lightning, or bury myself inside a cave of sooty bitterness and brood and churn.
It keeps things interesting for sure.
Still, there is a lesson to be learned from the constant raging fire. Lots of ashes to wade through now. Lots of bruises and cuts and scars. I am a warrior spirit and I am battle weary, my friends.
A wise woman knows when to go to the stream and let her feet soak in the cool water. Take a moment to gaze around and listen and smell and feel the air. Now take about 100 more moments just like that today.
The water rune of the ancient Nordic ways looks like an upside-down L, like the Leek plant. It is called Laguz. Lah-GOOZ. I draw it in ink upon my wrist today to remind me that a wise woman will pause in the glory of washing her wounds, purify, cleanse, purge. Soak in the salt bath and let the filth and grit seep from her pores and flow down the drain. Cool blues, frothy whites and rich greens heal me now.
It is my broken way to drive my face into the dirt with willful self-destruction and a sorrow too big to snuff. I want to race against it, pound it out on the pavement, cackle and cry.
A wise woman knows when to stop fighting and sink into the pools of quiet lapping renewal.
Let the goddess power of Laguz spill over the damned and splash and rise and swell into my soul now. Let me treasure this rainy day and be still. I will be back out there fierce and ready soon enough.