When the Storm Is You: A Sacred Rite of Rage and Rebirth !

There comes a time when you stop fearing the storm… because you realize you are the storm.

Most people run from storms.

They close the blinds, shut their mouths, and pray it passes.

But what if the storm isn’t something outside you?

What if it’s been building within you this whole time?

And what if, just once, you didn’t run from it?

What if you let it speak?

The Day the Storm Called My Name

This blog wasn’t supposed to be written today.

But neither was this storm supposed to exist.

And yet… here we are.

As thunder cracked through the sky and wind whipped like judgment through the trees, I felt it. In my chest.

In my head. In my blood.

Not fear—rage. Sacred rage. The kind that has nowhere to go until the Earth itself joins in the scream.

Candles were lit—black and white.

Dragon’s Blood burned beside white sage.

And yes, my own blood was offered—bound with the resin, rising with the smoke.

I didn't just feel the storm. I was the storm.

We’ve Been Taught That Rage is Dangerous. But What If It’s Holy?

The truth is: sacred rage isn’t violence. It’s clarity.

It’s the voice that says: “Enough.”

It’s the soul rising to say: “I will no longer apologize for feeling this much.”

Rage is not weakness.

It is the body’s thunder saying: “I’m still here.”

⚡ Chant of Sacred Reclamation

By breath of air and blood of flame,

By sky that weeps and calls my name,

By thunder’s voice and lightning’s fire,

I rise, a storm-fed soul, entire.

This rage is mine, and mine to mold,

No longer weak, no longer cold.

The winds obey the truth I keep,

The earth shall shake before I weep.

I cast off chains and silent screams,

I walk through storms to birth new dreams.

No fear shall touch me, no curse shall stay—

I am the storm. I lead the way.

Let Mother hear me, let Titans bow,

I live my truth, I claim it now.

No more shrinking, no more pain—

From ash and flood, I rise again. 🔥

This Blog Was Written for You

Whoever you are reading this right now…

If your mind has been flooded with worry…

If your chest has been tight with pressure…

If your words have felt buried beneath the weight of silence…

Know this: You are not alone.

This blog was not written about me. It was written for you.

Because we know.

We’ve been there.

We are there.

And it’s okay.

It’s not shame.

It’s not weakness.

It’s a human thing and that's just fine.

🌦️ Final Thoughts:

Life, like the storm, is wild—unexpected, at times violent, always humbling.

But even in the fiercest wind, there is purpose.

Even in the darkest sky, there is beauty waiting to break through.

And just like the storm...

This too will pass.

What once roared with chaos will soften.

What once felt unbearable will become memory.

And you—yes, you—will rise from it, soaked in wisdom, clothed in light,

and knowing with certainty: You were never lost to the storm…

You are the storm.