Position yourself where the earth shows its fierce power—beside exposed rock faces carved by ancient upheavals, near places where lightning has struck and left its mark, or in areas where wildfire has cleared the land to make space for new growth. Let your body rest against surfaces that speak of transformation through intensity—iron-stained stone, charred wood that still pulses with life, soil rich with the ash of what has burned. Feel the heat that radiates from sun-baked earth, the stored energy of summer's long burning.

Màthair na Talmhainn, banrigh na teineMother of the Earth, queen of fire

Tha sinn a' tighinn thugadWe come to you

Le teine nar broilleachWith fire in our chest

Agus fuath nar cridheAnd hatred in our heart

A' sireadh do theagasgSeeking your teaching

Mu dheidhinn cumhachd an fheirgAbout the power of anger

Breathe into the furnace of your own intensity, feeling how rage moves through your body like molten metal seeking form. Do not soften or spiritualize what burns within you—let it be exactly what it is: hot, dangerous, potentially destructive, absolutely necessary. Feel how the earth herself knows this fire, how volcanoes reshape continents and lightning splits the sky to balance the electrical charge between heaven and earth.

Today we face the dragons of enraged and spiteful—the sacred fire that protects what we love and the poison that corrupts what we touch.

Tha fearg mhòr agus gamhlasGreat anger and spite

A' sabaid nam anamFighting in my soul

Mar teine agus smùidLike fire and smoke

Bho'n aon lasairFrom the same flame

A' teagasg dhomhTeaching me

Mu dheidhinn cumhachd mo ghràidhAbout the power of my love

See yourself standing before an injustice so profound it makes your blood boil—corruption that steals from the innocent, cruelty that breaks what is beautiful, ignorance that destroys what cannot be replaced. Feel how rage rises like a beast awakening, primal and unstoppable, demanding action, demanding justice, demanding that someone pay for what has been broken.

This is anger in its pure form: love meeting obstacle, care encountering carelessness, the fierce protective instinct that will kill to defend what matters most. Feel it burning in your throat, clenching your fists, making your vision sharp and predatory. Do not judge this fire—it is the same energy that moves mother bears to defend their cubs, that drives rivers to carve through mountains, that compels seeds to crack concrete.

Ach tha an teine a' fas nimheilBut the fire grows poisonous

Nuair a chumas sinn e ro fhadaWhen we keep it too long

A' fas gu bhith na ghamhlasGrowing to become spite

A tha a' milleadh ar n-anam fhìnThat destroys our own soul

Watch how the same fire that could fuel righteous action curdles into spite when it has no outlet, no purpose, no transformation. Feel how hatred spreads like infection through your thoughts, turning everything bitter, making you see enemies where there might be allies, poison where there might be medicine.

Tha mi a' ionnsachadh bho bheann-teineI learn from volcanoes

Mar a tha iad a' sgaoileadh an teineHow they release their fire

Gus ùr-thìr a chruthachadhTo create new land

Seach a bhith air an sgriosRather than being destroyed

Leis a' chumhachd aca fhèinBy their own power

Descend into the earth's molten heart where pressure builds for millennia before finding release in creation. Here the Mother reveals her deepest teaching about rage: that it is not evil but energy, not sin but signal, not weakness but the fierce love that refuses to let destruction go unchallenged.

Feel how your anger is information—telling you what you value, showing you where boundaries have been crossed, revealing how deeply you care about justice, beauty, truth. When properly channeled, this fire becomes the energy that builds hospitals, protects forests, stands up to bullies, creates art that wakes people from their sleep of indifference.

Ann am fheargIn my anger

Tha cumhachd gus atharrachadh a dhèanamhThere is power to make change

Ann am ghamhlasIn my spite

Tha rabhadh mu dheidhinn mo dhìochuimhneThere is warning about my forgetting

Air cò tha mi dha-rìribhWho I really am

But feel too how spite serves as teacher—showing you what happens when you forget that your enemies are also children of the earth, when you lose sight of your own capacity for the very cruelties you condemn. Spite is the shadow that reminds you to tend your fire carefully, to use its power for building rather than burning, for protection rather than revenge.

Take a moment to contemplate:

How can you honor the sacred fire of your anger as a guardian of what you love while not allowing it to consume you with the bitter poison of endless hatred?

Màthair na Talmhainn, gabh ar teineMother of the Earth, take our fire

Agus thoir dhuinn gliocasAnd give us wisdom

Ga chleachdadh gu mathTo use it well

Mar fhear-gleidhidh, chan ann mar sgriosAs protector, not as destroyer

Mar lùth airson togailAs energy for building

Chan ann airson milleadhNot for ruining

Slàn leat, a theine naomhFarewell, sacred fire

Slàn leat, a fhuath searbhFarewell, bitter hatred

Thig air ais mar ghràdh làidirReturn as strong love

Return slowly to ordinary awareness, feeling how the fire still burns within you but now contained in the forge of wisdom rather than running wild through the dry tinder of resentment. The earth continues to transform pressure into diamonds, heat into new land, your rage into the fierce compassion that the world so desperately needs.