For years, I was mistaking chaos for excitement.
I thought passion meant drama, that intensity meant love, and that stillness was something to fear.
My baseline energy was fire, heat, sparks, storms. It kept me hooked, alive, and endlessly chasing something that always ended in exhaustion. I didn’t realise that what I called aliveness was actually my nervous system addicted to chaos.
When peace arrived, it didn’t feel safe. Calm felt like emptiness. The silence of stability made me restless because I was used to surviving in noise.
But over time, I discovered that what I was really craving wasn’t chaos. It was connection. Not the adrenaline rush of uncertainty, but the quiet rhythm of safety.
The Misunderstanding: When Chaos Feels Like Passion
We often confuse excitement with intensity, but the truth is that chaos mimics aliveness when the nervous system is dysregulated.
When you’ve grown up around unpredictability, your body starts to equate emotional turbulence with love.
That’s why drama feels magnetic. It activates your survival instincts. You might even find yourself craving it, because adrenaline feels like energy and silence feels like loss.
Yet that “spark” is not passion, it’s anxiety. That rush is not love, it’s your body remembering danger.
At first, steadiness feels wrong, even scary. But that discomfort is the nervous system relearning safety.
If this resonates, you might also enjoy:
→ Self Respect and the Warrior Archetype: Protecting Your Crown
→ The Gate of Self Worth
For a deeper understanding of how trauma affects love and desire, read this Psychology Today piece on how the brain becomes addicted to drama.
The Truth of Stability: Fire Needs a Container
For a long time, I believed stability meant stagnation, that calm would dull my light. But I was wrong.
Stability doesn’t kill passion; it gives it structure.
Imagine fire. Without a container, it burns the house down. But when held within stone, it warms the home, cooks the meal, and lights the path.
Chaos is fire with no form. Stability is the sacred stone that holds it.
That was my realisation: I don’t want chaos. I want fire that doesn’t burn me.
It’s not about choosing between peace or passion. It’s about learning to hold both.
If you loved Fire: The Hidden Archetypes That Shape Love, you’ll feel this one too, because it’s about alchemising the raw fire into soul fire.
For another lens on feminine energy and structure, see this MindBodyGreen article on balancing masculine and feminine energy.
In Love: From Survival Chemistry to Sacred Polarity
Before I understood this, I lived a pattern of highs and lows with a man who thrived on emotional turbulence. He could be cruel, making me cry, then sweep in to repair what he’d broken. It was the rhythm of chaos masquerading as passion. There were no nourishing dates, no grounded provision, only the cycle of rupture and reward. I mistook that volatility for depth, and I called the addiction love.
Later, something different appeared. I met a man whose presence felt like calm sunlight after years of storm. With him, I travelled, laughed, and even danced in the streets. We shared a connection that felt rich, spiritual, and deeply alive. It was the first time I experienced love that didn’t need drama to feel real.
But eventually the energy shifted. The relationship descended into confusion and distance. His nervous system, unaccustomed to the frequency of peace, couldn’t hold the connection in sacred stability. What began as harmony became noise again.
It was painful, yet illuminating. I saw how even beautiful connections can collapse when one person cannot stay anchored in regulation. I also saw that I no longer needed to match someone’s chaos to feel alive.
True polarity is not chaos; it’s coherence. His grounded presence meets my aliveness. His stability creates the safety where my radiance can bloom.
I don’t perform for love; I receive it.
I don’t chase fire; I tend it.
If you’ve ever felt this shift, you’ll love Soul Fire, Trauma Fire, and Slow Fire: The Hidden Archetypes That Shape Love.
In Abundance: How Stability Opened the Door for Flow
This teaching unfolded in my business too.
When I first began building my blog and creating courses, I wanted results instantly, the kind of intensity that mirrored my old relationships. But what I had, quietly holding me, was stability.
My care work, once something I saw as temporary, became the steady foundation that funded my dreams. It gave me routine, income, and time to create.
Then one day, my first course sale appeared, not during a high-energy launch, but on a quiet, grounded day.
That’s when I realised: stability is the true frequency of abundance.
It doesn’t block the flow; it opens it.
For practical tools on creating stability while staying in feminine flow, read Wellness Activities That Heal: Why the Spa Isn’t Just a Treat.
Gnosis: The Priestess Truth About Stability
If I could pass down one Mystery School teaching, it would be this:
Stability isn’t boring. It’s sacred.
Chaos feels alive because it mimics life, fast, unpredictable, full of motion. But true aliveness isn’t movement; it’s presence.
Stability is the temple floor that holds the dance. It’s the soil where love, wealth, and creation can take root.
Chaos drains life. Stability sustains it.
When you begin to see stability as holy, something shifts. You stop chasing the storm and start honouring the stone. You realise that grounding is not the end of your magic; it’s the beginning of it.
This is the Mystery School teaching:
Honour the stone that holds the flame.
Without the stone, the flame devours. With it, the flame endures.
Closing Vision: The Sexy Sacredness of Stability
Life is a temple.
Each day, we lay stones for its foundation: choices, boundaries, habits, and self-trust. On that foundation, we tend our sacred fire, our creativity, our love, our passion.
Without structure, the flame flickers out. Without flame, the temple grows cold.
Stability and passion were never opposites; they were always lovers.
Stone and fire. Form and spirit. Masculine and feminine.
When you learn to hold both, life stops swinging between extremes. You stop bracing for the next storm and start living in rhythm.
This is the new aliveness, not chaos but coherence.
Not drama but devotion.
So if you’ve ever mistaken calm for boredom, or peace for lack of magic, remember this:
Stability is not the absence of magic. It is the ground where real magic grows.
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