Calling all angels

Calling all angels, calling all angels
We’re trying, we’re hoping, we’re hurting, we’re loving
We’re crying, we’re calling,
But we’re not sure how this goes.
“Calling All Angels” by Jane Siberry

Yesterday was a Phoenix day for me.  I call it that when I know walking through fire will be required but also know that rebirth will occur.  It’s necessary to walk through fire sometimes, especially when there’s a fuckton of demons that NEED to be burnt to smithereens for me to move forward in a healthy way.

So the fires were lit.  I went walking.  It’s such a bizarre process sometimes.  I once had a postcard on my wall that said something about leaping and building your wings on the way down.  Yesterday was kind of like that.  I’ve been mocked for my leaping-without-wings, fire-walking ways.  Now it’s time to embrace them.

Point of note with fire-walking/demon-dealing: It’s so much easier when all conditions are perfect.  When you DON’T wake up with a massive headache.  Or rambunctious children that you have to watch during an impending ice storm when you lent your car out to their mother so you are housebound for the day.  So much easier.

Of course, life is under no obligation to give you what you expect. Or want.

Which means that I had the headache, the kids, the ice storm.

Into the fire we go!

The onset was hard.  Fire hurts.  So did the headache and the chattering children on top of it.  But the next steps were better.  My sister used her miracle hands to ward off the headache.  The ice storm meant that I was reprieved of nannying duty early so I got to go out before the second round of ice hit, when it was still warm.

And no, the irony that I was fire-walking during an ice storm is not lost on me.  Duality is my specialty.

Once I got into my car, the skies started clearing.  On all fronts.  We had a few hours of sunshine and plain rain to drive away some of the fire.  It gave me space to breathe.  Eat.  I reached out to friends who would understand that the fire hurt, but was sometimes necessary.  They coaxed me onward and through.  Two even gave me music to aide in the journey.  I called my angels and they answered.  The fire was still there, but now…now, it felt warm.  Soothing.  A balm for an outdated mentality on a frigid day.  I let it wrap around me and went to a craft store.  There were feathers, and sparkly things, and tiaras.  Not very pretty tiaras, but still.  I bought some feathers.  They’ll be a bridal bouquet eventually.

Keep walking, as a new sense comes over me.  The sensuality of the fire.  How arousing it is.  The flames licking at my feet, at my legs, higher…imagining the fire, consuming, purifying, driving love to passion.  YES.

Then, the mundane sets back in.  The grocery store, gas station, and post office of life.  And the fire goes from sensual to suffocating.  Keep walking, keep walking, but fuck it hurts so damn much again.  And the burns from before are now blistering.  I can’t stop the tears, but I also can’t command them.  They’re there and I don’t know how to just get them the fuck out.  Please.  For the love of god, where’s the release?  When does the damn fire end?  Am I going to be consumed?  Who’s fucking fucked up idea was it that I walk through fucking fire?!  Fire bad.  Fire ow.  Please just stop.  Stop.  STOP!

Of course, many times, even trained firemen can’t control a fire.  They can only try to contain, drench, smother it.  This fire wasn’t going to let up any time soon.  So…I keep walking.  But I know I need a release soon.  And then it hits. The fire incinerates the bushes that the demons had been hiding in all day.  They couldn’t whisper to me, so low that I couldn’t hear them and was just left unsettled and confused. With no cover, they resorted to full on attack.


But thankfully, a tendril of fire had already ignited my brain and heart.  And the voice of other angels rained down.

Me: I’m just dealing with my demons.
An Angel: Our demons. They’re not just your demons anymore. You’re not a solo act anymore.

Me: But…I’m…I’m going to lose in this competition.  I’m unworthy.  Ugly.  Unlovable.
Another Angel: Worthiness is like bravery.  It’s not action in the absence of fear or lack of value, it’s action in spite of it.  And it’s not a finite point, it’s a constant striving….It’s easier to strive, though, if you have a better realization of the standards you’re holding yourself to.  So let’s work on it.

And these particular fires slowly recede… soon I’ll be ready for the next blaze.

Where there is desire, there is gonna be a flame
Where there is a flame, someone’s bound to get burned
But just because it burns, doesn’t mean you’re gonna die.
You gotta get up and try, try, try.
“Try” – P!nk


2 responses to “Calling all angels

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