The Flame Falters, the Ocean Remains
Love Notes on Depth and Acceptance
I’ve been playing with the water motif for years now. It shows up everywhere in my life—in my reflections, in my work, and even in my podcast. Back in 2022, I recorded an episode about meeting people where they’re at, using swimming and water depth as a metaphor. I’ve always felt like water holds answers: it flows, adapts, and carries immense power beneath its surface.
The feminine, I’ve come to believe, is water. I’ve felt it in the way I navigate my emotions, relationships, and creativity. Water holds space for softness and strength, calm and chaos, shallow play and deep truths. And yet, there was a time when I forgot this about myself.
I was seeing someone who was looking for the exact opposite— fuego—fire, intensity, the spark that burns bright. He was searching for fire, drawn to its blaze and intensity, so fixed on what he thought he wanted that he couldn’t appreciate the quiet magic of my waters—the depth, the calm, the storm, the way it holds everything together. And for a moment, I almost forgot it too. I almost tried to burn like flames for him. But water isn’t meant to be fire. Its beauty lies in its depth, its flow, its endless capacity to hold and transform for those who are willing to notice.
That’s the reminder I keep coming back to. When someone is looking for something else, your job isn’t to shape-shift or shrink. It’s to sink deeper into the truth of who you are, to let your waves rise unapologetically.
This piece is my reflection on water, on depth, and on the courage it takes to meet others where they are without losing yourself.
To Be Water
To be held in the swell of your waves,
seen in the crash and the calm—
to be known not only in your still waters,
but in the depths where the light barely reaches.
To be loved when your tides rise unbidden,
when your currents pull against the shore,
asking the question that shakes the quiet:
What are we?
Not just the mirror of their smile on the surface of still water,
but the undertow that pulls at their footing, their safety, their security,
demanding more than a reflection.
You are the ocean that stirs,
the storm that churns,
unwilling to let a connection float untethered.
Can you love yourself for this?
For disturbing the surface,
for diving into uncertainty,
for being the one who whispers, Show me what lies below.
Laughter may ripple across the surface,
but you are also the deep,
the fathoms where truths sleep heavy,
the waves that rise and carry what must be seen.
You long for clarity, for meaning that anchors,
for the courage to ask the question
that turns stillness into motion.
Can they love you here, in the tempest?
When your waters surge,
when your depths ask them to stay?
Can they see the beauty in the part of you
that refuses to laugh your way through the shadows,
that aches for something real,
something true?
And if they cannot—
can you love yourself anyway?
For asking, for risking,
for daring to disturb what felt safe.
Because the right ones will not fear the waves,
nor the pull of the deep.
They will swim toward you,
meet you where the ocean is vast,
and answer your question with one of their own:
What else can we become?
Reflection Questions: Discovering Yourself and Your Depth in Relationships
What are the still waters within you—the parts of yourself that feel calm, steady, and unchanging? How do you honor these aspects?
Where in your life do you feel like a storm is brewing? How do you navigate those turbulent emotions? Do you let others see this part of you?
Do you tend to stay in the shallow end of relationships where it feels safe, or do you dive deep into connection, even if it feels uncertain? Why?
When have you tried to become fire for someone else? How did it feel to deny your true nature?
What does your depth look like? What parts of you remain hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be explored?
How do you respond when someone cannot swim in your waters? Do you shrink back into shallowness, or do you allow yourself to remain vast and true?
What relationships in your life feel like rivers, flowing naturally and deeply? Which feel like stagnant ponds, lacking movement or growth?
How do you handle the ebb and flow of relationships? Can you embrace the tides—the moments of closeness and distance—without fear?
What would it look like to fully embody your water, to own your flow, your depth, and your storms without apology?
These questions are designed to help you explore your emotional landscape, your authenticity, and how you connect with others while staying true to your own nature.
Forever a water lover girl.
❤️🔥