Playing With Fire

It often starts quietly.

A tightening in the jaw.

A heat in the chest.

A restless hum beneath the skin.

You’re irritated—but you don’t say anything.

You’re aroused—but it feels sharp, untethered, almost distracting.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Stress. Desire. A bad day.

Later, maybe you reach for sex without words.

Or you shut down emotionally while your body lights up anyway.

Or you snap. Or fantasize. Or bury yourself in work.

And somewhere inside, a question flickers:

Why does anger feel so close to arousal?

Most people never pause long enough to ask that.

They just act it out.

I didn’t.

I sat in it.

I recently discovered something that has changed the way I understand sex, intimacy, and relationships—and the way I see patterns not only in my own life, but in my clients, my work, and even leadership and burnout.

There is a direct relationship between erotic sexual energy (Eros) and sacred rage.

They are not separate forces.

They are different expressions of the same fire.

And most of us were never taught how to work with fire.

We were taught to suppress it, fear it, outsource it, or let it burn until something collapses.

Fire Always Wants Expression

Eros is not just sex.

It is life force—desire, creativity, vitality, connection, the pull toward more.

Sacred rage is not aggression.

It is boundary intelligence.

It is the body’s response to violation, misalignment, or truth that has been swallowed.

Both are energetic.

Both are somatic.

Both are intelligent.

And when one is suppressed, the other almost always intensifies.

Fire does not tolerate silence.

What I Noticed in My Own Body

Lately, I’ve been experiencing a lot of rage. Historically, when anger rises in me, I suppress it. I contain it. I manage it quietly.

But this time, as I pushed the anger down, something else emerged.

My erotic energy intensified.

Desire sharpened.

Heat moved insistently through my body.

Instead of shutting either down, I stayed.

Through breathwork, meditation, and somatic awareness, I let myself feel anger and arousal as energy, without moral judgment. I stayed present with the heat instead of trying to escape it.

And within that heat, clarity arrived.

A song kept looping in my mind:

“I’ve always liked to play with fire.” By Sam Tinnesz Feat: Yacht  Money 

That was the moment I understood:

this wasn’t pathology.

This was fire asking for stewardship.

Fire Burns Bright—But Not Forever

I realized something fundamental about myself: I am a fiery person. I burn intensely. I approach life, relationships, and purpose with passion, speed, and conviction.

Out of curiosity—not as prediction, but as language—I revisited my astrological placements. Jupiter in Aries. Mars in Sagittarius. Fire-dominant.

And here is the truth about fire:

Fire cannot burn at maximum intensity indefinitely.

Untended fire scorches.

It exhausts fuel.

It burns out—and often takes people, relationships, and systems with it.

As I stayed with this awareness, another message surfaced clearly:

Slow and steady wins the race.

I saw the image of the tortoise and the hare—not as a moral lesson, but as an energetic truth.

How This Shows Up in Relationships and Sex

When I reflected on my relational history, a clear polarity emerged.I have been with individuals who were emotionally and verbally explosive—outwardly angry, reactive, intense—but sexually suppressed, and  I found myself becoming emotionally quieter while my sexual desire increased.

In contrast, I have been  with individuals  who were sexually expressive, passionate, and desirous, but emotionally suppressed, conflict-avoidant, unwilling to voice anger or complaints, and I became more emotionally vocal and frustrated while my sexual desire slowly shut down.

In both dynamics, fire was present—but split.

One burned through rage.The other burned through sex.

Neither was integrated. And neither was I.

Both were external polarity mirrors to my internal world.

Fire Does Not Disappear — It Transforms

What became unmistakably clear is this:

Fire does not die when it is suppressed.

Energy cannot be created or destroyed—it can only be transformed.

This is not just metaphor; it’s fundamental physics.

When Eros is suppressed in one place, it does not vanish.

When rage is silenced, it does not disappear.

Fire that cannot move through emotional truth often moves through sexual behavior.

Fire that cannot move through intimacy often moves through work, ambition, or compulsive striving.

The fire never left.

It simply changed form.

The Polarity of Unintegrated Fire

This pattern is not unique to my experience. I see it repeatedly.

People who are outwardly angry are often sexually repressed.

People who are highly sexual are often suppressing anger, resentment, or unmet needs.

Fire has to go somewhere.

If it can’t move through emotional expression, it moves through sexuality.

If it can’t move through desire, it moves through rage.

Sex becomes a substitute for emotional truth.

Anger becomes a substitute for intimacy.

And over time, connection erodes.

What I See Repeated in My Work With Clients

This same dynamic shows up clearly in my clinical, coaching, and consulting work.

Many of my clients act out sexually at the height of anger, hurt, or emotional overwhelm.

Often, their partner is expressing anger or aggression—sometimes overtly, sometimes passively—while simultaneously withholding sex or intimacy. Issues exist, but they are not spoken openly. Needs remain unexpressed. Fire builds.

Instead of bringing their anger into the relationship, many clients suppress it.

And suppressed fire does not disappear.

It gets redirected.

Sexual acting out, compulsive behaviors, addictive patterns, with a “fuck-it” attitude that comes with  consequences often emerge—not because these clients don’t care, but because they don’t know how to stay with the heat long enough to hear its wisdom.

Had that fire been slowed down, listened to, and expressed with clarity, the outcome could have been different.

Instead of secrecy, there could have been honesty.

Instead of destruction, repair.

Instead of disconnection, intimacy.

But that requires tolerating discomfort—something many people were never taught how to do.

Fear of Fire—in Self and Other

At the core of these patterns is fear.

Fear of one’s own intensity.

Fear of a partner’s fire.

Rather than risk emotional exposure or confrontation, people look for safer outlets: sex without intimacy, work without rest, productivity without presence.

Fire will always take the path of least resistance.

Fire Beyond the Bedroom

Unintegrated fire does not stay contained to sex or relationships.

I see it in burnout, where frustration and resentment turn into erotic distraction or compulsive pleasure-seeking.

I also see the opposite: emotional and sexual shutdown leading people to bury themselves in work. Desire numbs. Anger converts into achievement.

This is why some people come out of failed relationships burning brightly in business or leadership.

The fire did not disappear.

It transformed.

The issue isn’t fire.

The issue is stewardship.

Playing With Fire—Safely

I am not someone who believes we should stop playing with fire.

I don’t teach people to dim themselves, numb their desire, or silence their rage.

I work with people to learn how to play with fire safely.

This is a lifelong practice.

It means learning how to:

• Feel desire without being consumed by it
  
  
• Express anger without destroying connection
  
  
• Burn brightly without burning out
  
  
• Stay on the edge without falling off
  
  

Fire does not need suppression.

It needs skill, rhythm, and containment.

Integration Is the Edge

Integrated fire looks like:

• Sexual desire that can coexist with frustration
  
  
• Anger that brings clarity instead of chaos
  
  
• Intensity that deepens intimacy instead of eroding it
  
  
• Passion that is sustainable rather than destructive
  
  

This is not about becoming less fiery.

It is about becoming more masterful.

A Closing Invitation

Many of us were taught how to ignite fire—but not how to live with it.

In sex.

In love.

In work.

In leadership.

In life.

If you burn intensely, this is not a flaw.

It is a responsibility.

Learn how to tend your flame.

Learn how to stay with the heat.

Learn how to play with fire—without burning everything down.

This is the work.

And it doesn’t end.

To learn how to Ignite,Tame or Sustain your Fire Book a Session by Clicking  Here