Goddesses in me

In 2021, I received a message in a dream that I have to balance 2 elements in my life: fire and water. These elements were presented to me in the form of 2 feminine archetypes: A fierce, fiery goddess (like Pele, the Hawaiian deity of fire and volcanos) and a mermaid-like, go-with-the-flow ocean goddess. The fire element is my old friend, although a calm flame easily ignites in a wildfire. Water and I had to reacquaint.

Fire dragon

I am the child of the Goddess of fire and fertility. She brought me into the world from two volcanoes. There are two islands in the big ocean.

My father, the smoldering volcano. Introverted, the lava simmers and bubbles in his belly like a hard-to-digest meal. We dare to walk along the crater’s rim of black sand. Like a sulfur carrier, I risk my health in his presence. Things could go wrong at any moment. At regular intervals, we analyze the statistics and forecasts of activity on the Earth’s crust. But predictions can sometimes be wrong. And then there’s no escape.

My mother is a frivolous, explosive volcano. She’s always active; there’s always a provocative pool somewhere where lava bubbles. It’s not wise to get too close, but oh so beautiful to watch. We cling to that sense of unease. It’s what we know. Especially in the evenings, we marvel at her magnificent fireworks. She’s so absorbed in herself that her absence feels familiar. We interpret the escaping gases as a warning. The loss is palpable once the eruption is over. But she’s still unreachable then, because a black mass is still searching for a way to settle back into the discomfort of yet another day of scorched pans and forgotten curses.

If you’re the child of two volcanoes, you naturally become a fire dragon. I have legs to walk on the crater rim and wings to circle over magma chambers. Thick calluses and soot make the pads of my feet hard and black. My wings are sturdy and scaly so I don’t lose my course above the flanks, fanned by the sea breeze.

No one told me I was a fire dragon. I was told it was better to clench my teeth and, above all, not to open my mouth. But sometimes it would open on its own. The smoke escaping from my nostrils made me dizzy. At first, I didn’t know how to control my fire. When I opened my mouth, I set everything around me ablaze. No one told me that I was here to bring light and warmth. No one told me that there was a fire burning inside me that was looking for a way out. That it had to be tamed first.

Ocean goddess