The Child and the Flame: A Myth of Soft Power

There is a child who walks through fire.

Not the kind of fire that wounds

But the kind that remembers. That warms the bone. That calls the soul home.

---

Long ago, there was a child made of embers and saltwater. she lived close to the roots of the world. Where dreams grew wild and voices echoes through stone. She as not afraid of the dark. In fact, she spoke to it. Slept inside it like a womb,

But the world above was not built for softness. She laughed too loudly. She wept openly. She touched the earth with reverence. She asked questions no one wanted to answer: "Why do we pretend to be strong when we are hurting?"

"Why must we tame the flame?"

"Why is crying seen as weakness when it is water returning to the sea?"

The village elders saw her wild wonder and said: "Dim this light.

The world will not make room for your softness.

Shrink, or you will be devoured."

They gave her rules, belts, and silences. They taught her how to smile politely while her bones screamed. They gave her roles to play and cloaks to wear. And for a while, she obeyed.

But the fire never left. It flickered quietly in her belly. Curling around her ribs like a sleeping serpent. It did not consume her. It waited.

One midsummer night, when the moon was low and the air too thick to bear. She wandered to the edge of the woods, barefoot and burning. She lit a small flame, sat before it, and whispered: "I am not here to burn the world.

I am here to keep myself warm."

and the flame answered:

"Then stay soft. That is how the real fire spreads."

She did not return to the village. She did not have to. Because from that moment on, everywhere she walked a warmth followed her. Not a blaze. Not a scream. Just the quiet knowing of someone who no longer needed permission to feel everything.

---

This isn't a myth. It's a mirror.

The child of embers and saltwater lives in all of us. She is the part you tried to hige to survive. The one who was told:

"You're too emotional."

"You care too much."

"You're too intense. Too soft. Too Much."

But your softenss was never the problem. It was always your power.

We live in a world that praise the sun but shames the warmth. That honors productivity but ignores tenderness. That fears the slow burn of transformation.

Yet real fire doesn't demand destruction. It asks for devotion. It wants to be tended, not tamed.

---

What part of you still glows quietly under the surface?

What flame were you taught to hide?

What would you change if you tended it with care, instead of shame?

You do not have to choose between power and softness. Your softness is power.

---

If this story touches something in you; light a candle, pull a card, or speak aloud "I am here to keep myself warm."

And if you'd like to explore this deeper with me, our July 30 cacao ceremony will walk this very path. Through fire, through softness, through return.

Until then keep tending your own flame. It remembers you.