This Girl is on Fire

“Leaving behind nights of terror and fear

I rise.

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear

I rise.”

Maya Angelou

There is a moment, just before you step onto hot coals, where the whole world seems to hold its breath. The guiding arm in front of you falls away, and there is nothing stopping you, the path ahead is clear. And although it’s just a small step forward, it feels like a vast black void of impossibility.

The heat from the coals is intense. You can feel it pressing against your skin, your legs, your trembling hands. You can hear it burning, a crackling hum that stretches out in the night beyond. The only light is from the coals. You look down at the glowing red embers, and all around, pressing close are people, holding their breath too, some whooping with encouragement, hands pressed to their faces, wondering if this final step is truly a step you can take.

And then, just when it feels impossible, ahead of you, through the flickering sparks from the fire, stands a man. He is looking at you, and only you. His whole gaze seems to come from across the fire and onto your face, white and humbled by the night. This alone is impossible to stand. If you have lived your life trying to be invisible, trying not to count, trying not to take up too much space, to have all the energy and focus of this moment directed just at you feels entirely alien.

Behind you, some of the most extraordinarily brave and broken women you know are shouting your name. Behind them stands your family, smiles and awe cracked across their faces, the children jumping up and down on the wet grass. In that moment, you are mummy, wife, daughter, friend, sister, leader, follower, broken, hopeful, powerful, firewalker.

And you are totally, absolutely there. There is no escaping it. This is a moment for you. This is ALL about you. You DO matter. You are NOT too much. You are completely you. And you are here, in this moment. Now.

You raise you hands to your hips, echoing the warrior woman stance you have practised earlier in the day, in an exercise that you weren’t sure would make a blind bit of difference to your ability to walk on fire. And yet, as you stand, framed in this powerful silhouette, staring straight ahead, you feel the possibility rush through you. You jump up and down on the spot a couple of times, feeling your feet connecting with the earth, feeling the power juddering through you.

“Are you ready,” shouts Chris from across the coals. Eyes up, looking right back at him, meeting his gaze. “Yes,” you shout, in a guttural cry that comes right from the very bottom of your soul.

“What is your name?” he asks. Closing your eyes for a moment, you reach inside for the strength to shout your chosen warrior name out.

“Right Fucking Here,” you yell into the night, into the crowd, into the fire, into the past of a life where you told yourself that you didn’t count, that you didn’t deserve all the things you hoped for. Your voice is like nothing you’ve heard before - strong, loud, cracking with emotion, pinched with pain, wobbly with courage. It is time.

“Walk,” commands Chris. And there is nothing between you and the fire now. You step out, never taking your eyes off Chris. Beneath you, the coals are so hot, like boiling rubble underfoot. It is a powerful feeling, but you are more powerful. With each step, the fire intensifies, but so does your strength.

Six, maybe seven paces, and you’re across the fire. Chris grabs you in a powerful hold, his hands clasping the tops of your arms, you jumping from foot to foot to kick off any stray embers.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “Yes.” And you are dancing away from the fire – a smile writ large across your face, tears swirling in your eyes. You are bursting with possibility now, power surging through you, strength fizzing in your fingertips, courage coursing through your veins. Giddy with knowledge. Warrior. Firewalker. Woman.

“Mummy!” call your children. Their eyes bright with pride, they reach their hands to your face, unable to believe this firewalking goddess is real. Your husband looks at you as if he has never seen you before, wonder all over his face. Your mother smiles back at you through the darkness, a fellow firewalker, she just knows.

You walk the fire two more times that night – on the last time, the coals are 2000 degrees Fahrenheit, flames are licking at the edges. You walk with total joy, whooping as you finish, sparks kicking from your heels.

Later that night, you will find the only mark left from the fire, a crescent-shaped fire kiss, curled around on the sole of your left foot. But otherwise, your feet are unscathed. You are not burnt. You are not in pain. You are simply alive, truly present and right fucking here.