Writing about writing

To make an ouroboros.

Oct 15, 2025

I have been writing quite a bit.

A few years ago, a dear friend was going through the toughest heartbreak he’d experienced yet. Posture stooped, heart caving in – he would either make long bouts of eye contact or avoid my gaze completely.

I listened. I cooed and booed during the appropriate parts. I placed my hand on his back and gave the space for his heart speak all it needed to say.

Oftentimes, there are no words to mend a broken heart. Just space.

Once we hit a long patch of silence, I offered up the only words that I felt were my own personal life raft. “Are you writing about this?”

He is not a writer, this friend. Maybe writing would not be medicine to him. Maybe sitting with an empty page would be the very last thing he would want to do in the face of his simmering abandonment, of the utter aloneness we feel after the loss of romantic love.

Maybe I should have asked: “Are you meeting the empty space within yourself? The loneliness? The ache? Are you meeting it with care?”

In the depths of despair, there is sometimes a willingness to reach out for whatever life jacket is offered to us.

My prescription: to meet that empty space within us. Page by page.

At least the ache would live outside, rather than within.

I am writing quite a bit because the page gives me a safe space to meet myself.

If you know me, you know I am going through one of the toughest heartbreaks of my life. If you don’t know me, now you know – I am meeting the tenderest parts of myself and attempting to breathe life back into my veins.

The soft parts of ourselves are often the ones we leave untouched. The stones we leave unturned. Can we handle our deepest cuts with care? Are we able to pour alcohol or apply pressure to the parts of ourselves that need to be healed?

When I come to the silence within, I am also meeting the strength. The surrender. The resistance. And the rage. The part of me that is like water, shapeless and vast. The part of me that is like earth, stable and sure. The part of me that wants to be like fire, able to burn without destroying forests. The part of me that yearns to be like air, delivering inspiration and agility, shapeshifting in the blink of an eye.

I am writing to the part of me that screams for source, wishing to return to the eternal being-ness that is felt in the Great Beyond.

I’m also writing to the part of me that is afraid of source – couldn’t even fathom God if she tried.

I am writing because it helps me make sense of everything. Has it ever happened to you, dear reader, that you know something profound has shifted internally and yet, you can’t quite yet place a finger on this new pulse?

You know what also helps with finding this new pulse?

Listening.

Some of the deepest medicine is found woven in other’s stories. Some of the most ancient stories, myths, speak to patterns that describe concerns of the most fundamental human experiences.

How many mothers have experienced the loss of their daughter (Demeter and Persephone)? How many lions have fallen from their kingly stature (Heracles killing the Nemean lion)?

Stepping back from the plot to the cast of characters, how many of us identify with the eternal infant, entirely focused on their need to survive, found in the Aries archetype? Or Virgo, that eternal maiden tending to fruiting trees in a field? Or the authenticity driven Leo, who urges to bring their loved ones around a campfire and tell stories?

In my world, myth and astrology are practices of self-reflection. Human life is mirrored in these archetypes. Archetypes are universal patterns of behavior and images, that are often experienced and perceived at a soul level.

When we approach writing as an opportunity to meet our deep self on the page, we can write from a depth of us that is quietly asking to be met.

If you have not been writing quite a bit and you want to spend some time writing…

If you are or aren’t a writer…

If you feel there are parts within you that need attention, care, honey and hot water…

If you feel a great yearning for a part deeper than your day to day mind…

If there lives in you a yearning to connect with your soul…

If all of this feels intense and dramatic, but desirable…

If you fear the big wide open space of a blank page…

If you find comfort in the big wide open space of a blank page…

If you feel called to deeply listen to yourself…

… then, I invite you to join a workshop I am co-hosting this Friday.

We will be using archetypes and wisdom of astrology as a launching off point for open-ended questions, to inspire deep reflection.

In this workshop, we will be exploring the 12 signs of the zodiac with a focus on the elements that pulse behind archetypes as energetic currents.

We will create the space to go deep into self-reflection and find how our own pulse mirrors that of the four traditional elements in astrology: fire, earth, air, and water.

Every zodiac sign is infused with the energy of its element, influencing the way it moves through life. By exploring the elements, we learn to recognize our natural rhythms. In doing so, we cultivate a stronger connection to ourselves and our experience of world. We will then translate this knowledge into writing, using the archetypes to develop characters for literary work or to deepen our observation of our own creative voice.†oo

At their core, fire, earth, air, and water are the vital currents that animate our expression, our spirit, and our soul. In this space, they will speak to us through our intuitive writing.

When approaching creative alchemy, a connection to the Self is key. This connection to the self is what we will explore.

Whether you’re heart is broken or whole, come find us at the page.

More importantly – come find yourself at the page.

To sign up or read more about this workshop, click here.

[To be clear, this class really has nothing to do with breakups. Heartache is just one of the many reasons we can be brought to our knees enough to come to a blank page, a form of prayer.]

Onwards.

Gracias, te amo

Victoria