03/08/2026
Last month was Shivaratri… the Great Night of Shiva. A time devoted to conscious dissolution. To undoing.
Across the Hindu yogic tradition, it is the night when the energy associated with Shiva - the aspect of existence that dissolves form so renewal can occur - is said to be especially present.
It is less a celebration in the ordinary sense and more a doorway.
A moment to loosen the identities we carry.
To let old patterns fall away. To sit in the stillness where endings quietly become beginnings.
And only days later, the Fire Horse stepped onto the field. It has been 60 years since we last saw it.
Fire exposes. It does not allow what is hidden to remain hidden for long. It burns off residue. It also consumes carelessly if not contained.
The Horse does not hesitate. It moves.
Forward force. Exposed. Alive. Driven by instinct. Magnetic in presence. Carrying both grace and volatility.
Fire Horse energy does not fit quietly into existing structures. It strains against them. It can look like rebellion. It can also look like awakening.
Then, on the other side of the world, there is Teotihuacán.
A city built for awakening.
Stone meeting sky. An avenue stretched like a spine between worlds.
Identity thins there. Stories lose volume. What is constructed begins to crack.
The pyramids do not instruct. They reveal.
What is steady steadies. What is fragile shows itself.
It is deliberate undoing. Walking until the mind quiets. Standing until what is true steps forward.
Teotihuacán can feel like disorientation. It can also be remembering.
I was blessed to spend Shivaratri at Pashupatinath Temple in Kathmandu, Nepal… one of the most sacred temples dedicated to Shiva, Lord of all beings. A meeting point of life, death, and liberation. A force that dissolves illusion and returns everything to its source.
Next, I greeted the Fire Horse energy in Chitwan National Park, also in Nepal.
Here, the jungle breathes low and steady. Elephant grass taller than memory. River mist rising at dawn. Rhino moving through heat and shadow.
This is not mountain fire. It is earth fire.
Primal. Instinctual. Unapologetically alive.
And if that is not enough… there is Teotihuacán.
If Pashupatinath is fire on the river, and Chitwan is fire in the body, then Teotihuacán during Day of the Dead is fire in memory.
Ancient pyramids rising from volcanic earth.
Marigold petals laid like pathways for the unseen.
Candles flickering against stone older than empires.
Here, death is not an ending. It is invitation. Death of what is no longer needed, followed by a willingness to allow what comes next.
To stand on the Avenue of the Dead in November is to feel the Fire Horse turn luminous. Not consuming, but illuminating. Carrying you between worlds.
Magnetic and mythic. Sacred and eternal.
And in November, at Teotihuacán, this fire becomes shared ground.
Where memory, body, and river meet again.
If it calls you, come
https://evachar.co/Teo2026
