---

Fire, to me, isn’t some distant force to worship — it’s a living part of my home, my energy, my rhythm.

Every morning, I light a candle. It’s a simple thing, but it anchors me. That small flame reminds me: bring your energy, stay awake to your life. Even on tired days, it’s there, steady, alive, calling me to show up.

I’m lucky to have an open fireplace. When I build a fire, it’s more than just warming the room. It feels like tending to something inside myself. Watching the flames move, crackle, and shift, I feel the pull toward transformation — the way Fire never stays still, the way it reshapes whatever it touches. Sitting by the fire, I let my own stubbornness, fears, and stuck places soften. Some days, just watching the logs fall into embers reminds me: everything breaks down, and everything feeds the next spark.

But Fire isn’t only found in the hearth. I also work with it through movement. Getting my heart rate up — whether it’s a walk, a stretch, or just dancing around the living room — stokes that inner flame. It shakes off the heaviness that tries to settle when life gets repetitive.

The Sun, too, is part of my connection with Fire. Every time I step outside and let sunlight hit my skin, I remember: I’m literally living because of Fire. The same star that burns at the center of our system fuels everything here. Taking a few minutes to stand in the light — even on cold days — feels like a recharge. Like plugging back into a bigger current.

Part of working with Fire also shows up in my weekly Tarot pulls. Sitting down at the start of the week, lighting a candle, shuffling the cards — it’s a way of asking Fire: What needs to ignite? What needs to burn away? Where should I direct my energy? Fire speaks through the cards sometimes — through the Wands especially — reminding me where to act, where to trust my gut, where to let passion lead. It’s not about predicting the future. It’s about lighting a match to the present.

Emotions are part of my Fire practice too. I don’t shut them down. When I’m angry, fired up, passionate — I listen. I ask: What is this trying to burn away? What new thing is trying to ignite? Fire shows up when there’s something important underneath the noise.

Sometimes, once a week or whenever it feels right, I feed the fire something symbolic. A handwritten note of something I’m ready to release. Dried herbs. Even just my breath, whispered into the flames with an intention. Fire changes things. Working with it reminds me I can change too.

Fire isn’t out there in some other world. It’s here, every day — in action, courage, warmth, creation. Working with it keeps me honest. Keeps me moving. Reminds me that life is meant to burn bright — not smolder quietly.