Her Time, Lang Leav

She has been feeling it for a while now that sense of

awakening. There is a gentle rage simmering inside her,

and it is getting stronger by the day. She will hold it close

to her- she will nurture it and let it grow. She won’t let

anyone take it from her. It is her rocket fuel and

finally, she is going places. She can feel it down to her

very core- this is her time. She will not only climb

mountains- she will move them too.

There is often a fire in myself that I ignore. My inner most understanding and knowing, she is always burning. She tells me of my dreams and my desires. My hopes and my purpose. She reminds me what I am hear to do, here to climb.

Sometimes, when I am sad or overwhelmed, I ignore her. I tell her to be quiet and to be realistic. To stop wanting so much when what I have is more than most.

This makes her sad. To be shushed and pushed down and quieted. Not being listened to breaks her heart.

In the name of professionalism, I often quiet my fire. See the wrong and swallow it back. I blame the man and capitalism and patriarchy. I sink down and let the world swallow me whole.

She waits. My fire waits for the pain. She knows that when I can quiet no more, I will experience the pain again- I will be forced to listen.

Pain, you see, is always the beginning of work, of becoming. If we take our pain and we decide to listen for what it is teaching us, we rekindle our hearts, our fire.

I return the harsh and cruel words with gentleness and grace. I don’t need to make them see me, I already see me.

I let the fire rip forward. I let her fill my belly and my lungs. I feel her everywhere. I remember myself.

I remember my power and my potential. I remember the times I had to lead the people that call themselves leaders. I step into my power and remind myself every single day not to let them take it again.

I find the courage to leave the table when respect is no longer being served.

And so, here’s to you. Here’s to the fire and the knowing deep in your soul. Something no one else can touch or take or quiet, unless you let them.

This life is mine alone. Glennon Doyle

More soon,

Bonnie Rae xx

For when you feel your fire go out:

This book

This podcast

These poems

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