Fire, But Make It Contained

I once read somewhere: fire held in a container becomes power. Fire chased becomes chaos. Fire suppressed becomes obsession.

And I felt personally attacked. Because if there is one thing I know how to do, it’s generate fire.

Not the cute candle-on-a-windowsill kind. I’m talking full internal bonfire. The kind that is visible in your eyes. Yes. That fire.

And here’s the inconvenient truth: the fire is back. After coming into contact with someone specific, obviously, because how else would my next step be embodied? I got used to it working the way it is. It’s better when you accept it. 

Now before you roll your eyes, relax. I am not outside anyone’s apartment with a mixtape and a dream. Growth has occurred. We are evolved. We have learned. We are hydrated.

But the fire? Oh, she’s alive. Let’s talk about what this actually is.

Fire is life force. Creation energy. Sexual energy. The thing that makes you want to build, touch, write, dance, risk, confess, expand. It’s the pulse behind every great love story and every terrible decision you made at 2 a.m.

Fire is not the problem. Our relationship to it is. Because here’s what I’ve learned the hard way:

When you chase fire, it becomes chaos. You text too much. You overanalyze eye contact. You start mistaking adrenaline for destiny. You confuse obsession with intuition. You run toward the flame like a moth with WiFi and trauma.

When you suppress fire? Oh, that’s worse. You pretend you’re above it. “I’m focused on myself.” “I don’t even care.” “I am better off alone.” Meanwhile life is throwing reminders at your face like bricks. His ghost is everywhere you are. 

Suppressed fire doesn’t disappear. It turns into obsession. It leaks sideways. It shows up in dreams. In playlists. You can’t spiritual-bypass chemistry. Trust me, I’ve tried.

But when you hold fire? Contained. Grounded. Directed. That’s power.

That’s when the energy doesn’t spill out chasing someone: it builds something. You take that heat and you pour it into your body. Your art. Your discipline. Your boundaries. You flirt, yes. But you don’t fold. You feel the desire, but you don’t abandon yourself to it. You let it burn: inside a fireplace, not a forest.

And here’s the plot twist: When you stop chasing the fire and start containing it, it gets stronger. Cleaner. Less frantic. More magnetic.

It’s not “I need you.” It’s “I desire you. I can live without you. And I desire myself even more.”

That’s different. Because fire in a container doesn’t beg. It radiates. So yes, I have the fire again.

But this time I’m not throwing myself into it like it’s the only source of warmth in the universe. I am the source. He is a spark. Big difference.

And maybe that’s the grown-woman plotline nobody tells you about. You don’t lose your fire when you heal. You just stop burning your own house down with it.

And honestly? That’s hot.

If you suddenly feel this kind of fire rising – maybe because Venus is swimming through Pisces being all romantic and unhinged, and Aries is doing what Aries does (lighting matches just to see what happens) – don’t panic. Channel it.

I made a playlist specifically for this. To feel it. Move it. Sweat it out. Transmit it into your hips. Without suppressing, without chasing. Just power, in a very well-built container. Check it out on Spotify.