Last night, as the sun dipped behind the trees, my friend Catherine and I sat around a roaring fire with strangers, who, within twelve hours, became friends. My heart felt peace, my soul connected with the universe, and my mind was resolute. As the flames leaped high in the air, large black birds glided overhead, silhouetted against the setting sun.
At a certain point, I lost count, but I couldn’t ignore the symbolism of these birds flying away. This morning, I told my husband (who loves birds and can identify most in an instant) about what I had seen, and he said, “Those were vultures.”
I’ve never really liked vultures.
Sometimes when I run, vultures often perch on either side of a narrow pedestrian bridge I have to cross. They never move. I mean, never, ever, except for their heads which follow me with their eyes. My husband, ever the voice of reason, once told me, “Rachel, they only eat dead things. You don’t need to worry.”
Dead things.
How poetic, how appropriate, how sacred.
Fifteen minutes after I saw the vultures, I stood in front of 1200 degree coals, freshly raked from the fire, tamped flat, and glowing.
I don’t have words to describe the heat I felt in that moment. ButI do have a word to describe what I was stepping into — audacious.
For the entire day, nine of us sat in a room dismantling limiting beliefs and daring to visualize our futures. Our facilitator, a powerful and gentle guide, challenged us to find our edge, to push past discomfort, and to break through.
We broke boards (let me tell you they were thick) each self-inscribed with our deepest limiting belief. I had a moment before I wrote mine worrying that I would write the wrong thing. Then something shifted and determination took over.
I broke my board.
It was exhilerating. But more than that, it was proof.
I can do things that seem impossible.
We moved from breaking board to breaking an arrow with our neck. Let me tell you, that was even more frightening in my head than the upcoming firewalk. I knew the mechanics, and knew there would be a point where I would have to push way past my comfort zone. And for a several minutes, honestly, I didn’t know if I could muster the courage. But our leader kept saying, “This is your chance to go all in.”
Life; All In.
Right then, as the words of this page echosed in my head —> I knew I could do it, but just needed the courage to walk up to the wall.
Isn’t that often the hardest? The moment before you start?
Sometimes the universe gives us the nudge we need. Mine came in the form of the Tears for Fears song (which I love) Everybody Wants to Rule the World. The moment I heard the opening, I knew — now is the time.
A calm, audacious certainty settled over me.
I stepped up, leaned in, and shattered my arrow.
Five pieces.
my five-piece broken arrow
So, by the time we reached the firewalk, my brain, my mind, and my spirit was ready. I knew I could do hard things, I knew I could handle being uncomfortable, and I knew this challenge was finite.
I took another step onto the fire.
This step was even hotter.
I knew I couldn’t panic, couldn’t walk faster (you kick up the coals), but had to keep walking — steady, strong, focused, forward.
What a metaphor for life, honestly.
I took another step.
And then I stepped off to loud cheering and hugs.
As the cool water was sprayed on my feet I felt this pride but also peace.
I knew I could do it.
I just had to prove it to myself.
my broken boards burning in the fire
Life is like that, honestly. I had found myself frozen in a lull space, frozen worrying about what to do next, frozen not knowing of the next step.
I burnt away the fear, in a way.
Right before stepping onto the coals, I meditated on what I needed to release — burn off — and what my walk represented. By the time I walked, I was more than determined — I had already seen the end, so this was a symbolic moment of creating a new neural pattern, and cementing in the bravery that had been frozen underneath fear, disappointment, and busyness.
This morning, I woke up with a few small blisters on the soles of my feet.
Fire kisses.
I want you to know you can do hard things.
You can get unfrozen.
You can surprise yourself.
But it requires a decision — a willingness to step out of your comfort zone into the unknown.
It doesn’t need to be a firewalk. It could be joining a book club, signing up for a 5k, going back to school, or creating a new habit.
It’s about pushing the edges of your existance instead of staying safely in the middle.
And the vultures?
They are needed. They keep the circle of life going, moving.
Some of my limiting beliefs died yesterday. In their place?
Audacious courage.
It took me making one decison — saying yes.
And then another — doing the work.
And then another — taking the step.
And then the next.
Onward.
~Rachel
P.S. My firewalk was facilitated by certified firewalker Greg Pihs (you can find him here). If you’re considering doing any of what I shared today make sure it’s only through a safe, certified event. This isn’t something to just try on a whim — the mental preparation and discipline and safety required are intense.
And when I get the video of me taking the walk I will share it!
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Journal - The Vultures on the Bridge: We all have “vultures” — fears, doubts, worries, limits that seem to circle overhead, waiting for us to stumble and fail. But think about this → What are your vultures in your life? After you’ve written them down ask yourself this:
Are they really a threats?
Or are they just watching, powerless, unless you give them meaning?
What would happen if you chose to walk past them without fear?
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