Burning to Become

Transforming Endings into Evolutions

Photo by Rafael Garcin on Unsplash

We are entering the Year of the Fire Horse, there has been much talk of burning — of blazing — of what we are choosing to leave behind, and what we are ready to run towards.

I’ve been digging deep, asking:
What no longer serves me?
What do I wish to burn?

It might be something big.
It might be something small.

Choosing what to burn can feel radical — especially when the identity or role once felt precious.

Spending years becoming…
growing, nurturing, learning, practising, honing, polishing, shining —
but now it no longer fits.

It feels uncomfortable to even consider letting go of something so woven into who we are —
what we’re known for,
what we’re good at.
There’s often a tug of resistance.

I’ve been asking myself:
What if everything I’ve done so far has been leading me to my next thing — my next evolution?

And if so,
with gratitude,
I release it.
And open up to what’s next.

A helpful practice for me is to write and burn.

I write a letter to myself.
I thank whatever I may be releasing. It’s done it’s job. It’s complete.
Then I burn it — usually outside, in a glass jar, with a candle or a match.

(If burning feels too woo woo for you, I once used the paper shredder instead of burning and it did the job!)

And now for a poem …

After the Flame — Into the Light

I offer my past.
All that has been, all that has served me,
I place in your flame.

The page is heavy with ink —
words,
feelings,
memory —
clinging.
It once mattered.

Match to paper.
A pause.
It resists.
It won’t burn.

Is this a sign?
I’m not ready
to let go?

Burn it.
Take what I no longer need.
Transform it.
Regenerate it.
Return it as light, as love, as life.

I hold my breath.
Then —
the edge darkens.
It curls,
folding inwards.
A blue flame flickers
along the words
I thought would live forever.

Sentences collapse into ember.
Stories released.
What felt fixed
softens.
Blackens.
Falls.

The burning takes
what is finished.

Ash gathers —
soft,
weightless,
true.
Smoke lifts what I carried.

I release.
I honour the imprint of the past.
The wisdom stored in my cells.
And I let it…
Flow.
Transform.
Become.

Lighter.
Ready.
Open.
I am free.

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Even as we release, if we choose, our past may be our companion — a lasting resonance we carry and may return to.

The wisdom of our life lives on. I’m comforted by this. Nothing is wasted. Life is an investment.

Which brings me back to: What if everything I’ve done so far has been leading me to my next thing — my next evolution? I wonder what will be yours?