My research on Joan of Arc for my newsletter post “Reject the Roles others Assign You” led me to learn about an ancient ritual I had never heard of—a wheel set ablaze each summer and rolled downhill as an omen for the year ahead.
In Ancient Europe, villagers once prepared a great wooden wheel each summer, with each participating household bringing straw to bind around it. At dusk, the wheel was set on fire and rolled down a hillside toward a stream or river. The outcome of its fiery descent was read as an omen: if the flames survived until the wheel reached water, it foretold a plentiful harvest and prosperous village. More often, the fire sputtered out along the way, and the extinguished wheel was taken as a warning—everyone shall have to pray harder and listen more closely to the priest’s sermons in the months ahead.
The ritual was widespread, appearing in regions of Germany, France, and the Slavic lands. Symbolically, the burning wheel represented the sun at its peak and its gradual decline after midsummer. It was a spectacle—a way of tying human hope to the rhythm of the seasons, binding fate to fire, water, and earth in one dramatic act.
Reflection
Lately I have been reflecting on how life moves in circles. We revolve around certain conventions — go to school, get a job, and try to make it in the real world thinking and behaving in accordance to society. We go with the flow because it’s easier and we don’t want to be labeled as difficult. We avoid conflict and suppress our opinions to keep relationships smooth. We settle for relationships, friendships, or romantic partnerships out of convenience rather than genuine connection. We chase societal markers of success—money, status, achievements—without pausing to reflect on what truly matters. Life is like a consistent flow of patterns and repetitions. But sometimes the circle breaks and the pattern of life skips a beat. That’s when real growth happens.
In the last five years, my wheel has broken more than once—and each break came with a cost. I was a target of workplace bullying from several different female leaders (in different time frames) who tried to tarnish my reputation and strip me of my confidence when I told the truth. I had to sever a toxic relationship with a parent just after bringing my first child into the world because I finally had the courage to say “enough is enough”. I faced hostility from extended family that consumed much of my energy this year over setting minor boundaries. I let go of friendships that didn’t serve me anymore and was honest to tell them why—versus the past where I would let things fizzle naturally. All of this unfolded while raising two children born a year apart, with a third now on the way. The breaks were costly, but they carried a gift: a deeper peace and steadiness that I never knew existed.
These breaks forced me to look inward more than I ever have. I learned that resilience is not about pretending the wheel never broke; it’s about building something truer from the fragments. I learned that authenticity is not optional but essential—the only way to live in alignment without betraying yourself. And I learned that who you surround yourself with and their energy matters more than almost anything else. The wrong voices can kill your spirit; the right ones encourage you to rise. The reality is that most relationships don’t last as lifetime. As values change and people evolve, growth usually carries us down different paths. As Mark Manson would say, “Most friendships and relationships are supposed to end, that’s often how you know you’ve matured”.
These opportunities—though difficult—have taught me more about myself than the longest stretches spent keeping the peace. They taught me that when you choose yourself and truly stop giving a fuck about what other people think, life becomes more alive and expansive.
Growth rarely happens in the good times; it happens in the breaks, in the skipped beats, in the fire that forces you to begin again.
Weekly Wisdom
There is a practice in Buddhist meditation where we imagine ourselves exchanging places with another person to try and see the world from their point of view.
Who would you want to change places with today?
Book Recommendations
Van Gogh, The Life:
Vincent van Gogh’s story is not only about art—it is about the battle for authenticity. Pressured by parents who demanded respectability and conformity, he stumbled through roles as teacher, preacher, and missionary, each one hollowing him out. Only in painting did he seize an identity that was his own, transforming rejection into beauty and suffering into color. His life reminds us that the cost of living by others’ expectations is spiritual death, while the risk of being true to yourself—though isolating—can set the soul ablaze.
As Vincent wrote: “I try more and more to be myself, caring relatively little whether people approve or disapprove.”
A Novel of Joan of Arc:
Joan of Arc’s life shows the raw power of living authentically, even against impossible odds. Born a peasant girl destined for silence and obedience, she rejected the script imposed by family, church, and crown. Instead, she chose her own role—warrior—and embodied it so fully that kings trembled and armies obeyed. Her captors tried to strip her identity with labels of heretic and witch, but she chose the fire over compromise. Joan’s story is a reminder that true authority comes not from titles, but from the courage to live by your own conviction.
As Joan declared before her death: “One life is all we have and we live it as we believe in living it. But to sacrifice what you are and to live without belief, that is a fate more terrible than dying.”
Article reference: Reject the Roles Others Assign You
Weekly Reflection
Think back to a moment when the “circle” of your life broke—when routine or convention was disrupted.
Write down what that break revealed to you.
What did you learn about yourself?
Wow—this is powerful. I felt the weight of those breaks you’ve lived through, but also the strength in how you reframed them. It’s true: resilience isn’t pretending the wheel never broke, it’s finding your balance again in a truer way. This was moving and brave to read.