Fire Misused, Fire Misunderstood

I used to think burnout was a badge of honor.

Pull the all-nighter, crush the deadline, hit the gym even when I had nothing left to give; because pain means progress, right?

But that’s the lie this culture sells us: that exhaustion equals virtue, that collapse equals accomplishment. We worship the grind like it’s a god, and then we wonder why our altars are covered in ashes.

Ayurveda has a different story.

Fire is sacred

Fire is transformation.

They called it Agni: the digestive flame, not just in your gut but in your eyes, your brain, your heart. Every act of clarity, every spark of insight, every bite of food that becomes blood, it’s Agni. Without it, there is no life. But Agni was never meant to be a bonfire of endless ambition. It was meant to be a hearth: steady, glowing, feeding the home of your soul.

Here’s My Confession

I’ve treated my Agni like a dumpster fire.

Caffeine on an empty stomach. Skipping meals then binging at night.

Saying yes when I meant no.

Pretending discipline was the same as pushing through exhaustion.

My fire didn’t make me radiant.

It made me smoke-stained, coughing on my own fumes.

That wasn’t gains. It was self-sabotage dressed up as hustling to make-ends-meet.

Course correction: tend the flame, don’t torch the house.

Eat warm food at regular times: tending to the optimal functioning of your digestion is not optional, it’s the foundation. Pause before saying yes, let discernment burn away the nonsense. Light an actual candle when you pray, and watch how that small fire teaches you more about balance than any TED Talk. Fire is not here to kill you. Fire is here to cook the raw parts of your life into something edible.

Your body is a hearth, not a factory.

Factories burn out. Hearths burn steady.

Which one are you?

To myself first and then to you: let’s stop worshiping burnout. Let’s tend to Agni like the holy flame it is.

Let’s cook slowly, together.

Let’s get well.

Love, Meg