29/07/2026
đĽ Moon Phases
Entry 02 â Fire Flower
If my first retreat taught me what I didnât want to createâŚ
This one reminded me why I wanted to create anything at all.
After returning home from the Full Moon Retreat, I came across another retreat on Facebook.
Sacred Rage.
The name alone made me pause.
Shortly after I registered, Ayla sent everyone a voice message explaining what the weekend would look like, what to bring, and the intention behind it. It wasnât polished marketing or a carefully scripted welcome.
It felt personal.
After my first retreat, that mattered more than I realized.
Before I even arrived, Ayla let me know the other two participants couldnât make it and it would only be me.
Instead of cancelling the weekend, she chose to continue.
Looking backâŚ
Iâm so grateful she did.
The weekend became a series of pleasant surprises.
The cottage was beautifulâfar more comfortable than I expected. There wasnât a shower, but honestly, I didnât mind.
Every meal Ayla prepared was delicious and made with care in her outdoor kitchen. Throughout the weekend, she filled the space with live music, playing her guitar, hand drum, flute and beautiful voice. It wasnât just something to listen to. It became part of the atmosphere, making everything feel even more grounded and alive.
As the evenings settled in, weâd enjoy the lovely sauna and wander down to the lake.
Cold water can be a lot for my nervous system, so I usually donât venture very deep. This time, I only waded in up to my knees.
YesâŚ
We were n**e. đ
There was something unexpectedly freeing about it.
No one cared what anyone looked like.
There was no judgment.
No comparison.
Just two women standing in a quiet lake beneath the evening sky while fireflies danced around us.
It felt magical.
The weekend unfolded slowly.
We talked.
We laughed.
We rested.
I painted.
Nothing felt rushed.
Nothing felt performative.
For the first time in a long time, I stopped wondering what was supposed to happen next.
I simply let the weekend unfold.
When it came time for the rage release, I knew I had permission to scream, snarl, growlâor express whatever wanted to come through.
That wasnât the breakthrough.
The breakthrough was realizing that none of those were the language my body naturally chose.
As I moved, laughed, danced, and explored, something became incredibly clear.
My emotions donât naturally move through destruction.
They move through humour.
Creativity.
Movement.
Even a little bit of seduction.
For years, Iâd assumed there was a ârightâ way to express difficult emotions.
That afternoon taught me something entirely different.
Authenticity doesnât follow instructions.
It has its own language.
Mine just happened to sound different than I expected.
When the release dance ended, Ayla smiled at me and said,
âYouâre a Fire Flower.â
I laughed.
But something inside me recognized it immediately.
Fire had always represented intensity to me.
Something powerful.
Something to be careful with.
But a Fire FlowerâŚ
That was different.
It could be warm without burning.
Soft without being fragile.
Bold without destroying.
It felt less like receiving a nicknameâŚ
and more like someone holding up a mirror.
On the ride back to my uncleâs, I wasnât thinking about the accommodations.
Or the schedule.
Or whether every activity had gone perfectly.
I kept thinking about how different healing could feel when there wasnât an expectation to express yourself like everyone else.
The first retreat taught me to pay attention to the container.
This retreat reminded me not to forget the person inside it.
The retreat was called Sacred Rage.
What I found wasnât rage.
It was my own language.
đ Carry Forward
Healing doesnât ask us to become someone new.
It invites us to discover the language that has always been ours.
