10/18/2025
Lessons of Fire
Ares – The God of War
Long ago, in the heat of the Trojan War, the battlefield was chaos incarnate. The cries of warriors clashed with the clanging of swords. Among the gods who watched from Mount Olympus, Ares stood, eager for the carnage. Unlike his sister Athena, who fought with strategy and wisdom, Ares thrived on raw fury, the thrill of combat itself.
One day, he descended into the fray, charging into the enemy lines with a roar like thunder. Heroes fell before him, their shields shattered, their cries echoing like a dark hymn. Yet, even in his might, the mortals saw that Ares’ strength was double-edged. He could inspire courage—but also recklessness. Many who followed him into battle perished, unable to control the wild, consuming energy he embodied.
Ares was not merely violence; he was the spark of courage, the fire that forces us to confront fear. Warriors learned, sometimes too late, that power without discipline could destroy as much as it could create.
And so, Ares reminds us: strength and passion are gifts—but must be tempered with wisdom. He teaches that the warrior’s path is not only about battle, but understanding when to fight, when to yield, and when to transform energy into purpose.
The Morrigan – The Celtic Phantom Queen
On the rolling hills of ancient Ireland, as armies gathered for the epic battle of Cú Chulainn, a figure appeared at the edge of the field: a woman cloaked in black, her eyes burning with unspoken knowledge. She was the Morrigan, the phantom queen of war, prophecy, and fate.
As the warriors prepared, she walked among them in different forms—a crow perched on the fence, whispering omens; a beautiful woman offering counsel; a shadow slipping between tents, unseen but deeply felt. Those who ignored her warnings found themselves wounded or doomed. Those who listened glimpsed the currents of fate that flowed unseen, shaping victories and losses alike.
Cú Chulainn himself encountered her. She appeared as three sisters, each a mirror of war, death, and sovereignty. She offered him power—but also asked him to understand the weight of choice. For in war, she said, not every victory is glory, and not every defeat is shame. Life, like battle, is woven from courage, foresight, and acceptance of the inevitable.
The Morrigan’s lesson is subtle: power lies not only in action, but in perception, in honoring the cycles of life and death, and in embracing transformation. She is both shadow and guide, teaching that the fiercest battles are often within.
