Picture Love Podcast

Cracked Open, Forged Anew; A Spirit Interview with Riven

• Kris LeDonne • Season 2 • Episode 24

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🔨 “You’re not fragile. You’re forged.”
In this powerful spirit interview, meet Riven — a voice for those who carry fire in their chest and truth on the edge of their tongue.

Once known as Marek — a rule-bound keeper of systems — Riven walked through grief, betrayal, and rage to become something new. Now, as a guardian of the forge, he speaks for the ones who are breaking free from the systems that once silenced them.

✨ This episode explores:

  • What it means to be forged, not broken
  • The origin story of Riven and his rebirth from Marek
  • How to hold space without fixing or shrinking
  • What to do when you’re carrying rage, grief, or unspoken truth
  • How to be the bellows, not the blacksmith, for someone in transformation
  • Riven’s personal message for those on the brink of becoming

🖤 This is for the quiet warriors. The loud feelers. The ones who’ve held too much for too long. Riven’s words land like a hammer — but open the heart like a flame.

🎙️ The voice of Riven is brought to life by Sarah, a soul whose journey of resilience mirrors the spirit of this episode. Her voice has been lovingly modulated to reflect Riven’s frequency.

More about Sarah: 

Sarah is searching for beauty and joy in an era when even those feel like radical goals. She finds them abundantly in words, dance, music, nature, her friends, and her beloved dog, Poe. After a traumatic and life-altering car accident nearly 3 years ago, Sarah has been heavily focused on personal growth, still recovering both physically and emotionally. She perseveres through the horrors with an emboldened drive to return to school to earn her Masters in counseling to support others through their grief, and hopes that, collectively, we can heal the broader, communal traumas that plague a neglected society, through service and love.

đź”— Stay connected:
Podcast home: https://podcast.picturelove.us
Instagram: @picturelovepodcast

đź’— Please share this episode if someone you love is walking through the fire.

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Hi, friends. Welcome back to Picture Love. I'll admit it's been a minute since you heard the last Spirit interview with my beloved Elira. In today's episode of Picture Love podcast, you all get to hear a conversation with the beloved Riven. Now Riven is read by a new friend of mine, Sarah You will hear all about her. We stick around to the end. I'll give you a little bit of her bio, but I will warn you if you know Sarah, this is not what she normally sounds like. Her voice has been edited to fill a character, and she so bravely shared her heart and her energy, which was perfectly aligned for Riven, and yet she gets a little bit of anonymity in her sound. So without further ado, we're gonna jump into this heartfelt discussion about healing being real with oneself and so many other golden pearls of wisdom from my beloved spirit guide, Riven courtesy of Sarah.

Kris LeDonne:

Riven. Ever since my awareness of your presence, I have been anticipating this conversation. I can't stop smiling. I won't waste any time jumping in. Would you kindly jump in and share with our picture Love community a little bit about how you came to be known as Riven.

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

You don't waste time. Good. I was once called Marek. That name still echoes somewhere. Hollow distant. Another lifetime. Marek was a being of rules in love with systems. I wore a metaphorical uniform to express my dedication. I celebrated order structure. I was good at it, and this control made me feel useful, righteous, even. Until I realized what that order cost me, my sister gone disappeared. In the name of protection I was told. And to make matters worse, my closest friend turned against me because he still followed the system, the one that contained all of us. While posing as justice and freedom, I unknowingly reinforced a world that consumed people and produced systems until I woke up and when I screamed, no one heard. No one recognized the system failure. Just deaf ears, but the rage didn't consume me. It's the space where I was transformed. I left the name Marek in the ashes of that grief, forged iron, embraced fire. I raised my voice. Finally, one swing at a time. Now I answer to Riven because that's what I became. Split open, cracked down the middle. Not broken, remade, and now I stand for those who carry their fury like a stone in the gut. The ones who whisper truth through clenched jaws gladly speak when they need to hear. You're not wrong, speak it. That's who and what I stand for.

Kris LeDonne:

That gave me chills. I can't even imagine the range of emotions you found yourself facing, and I suspect there are many other people today who recognize such adversity. Encountering deep loss and betrayal has been the undoing of many others. Desire for answers or for justice can swallow people in a blink. Many faced with such realities turn to crime and plot hate responses, but not you riven. How were you able to see yourself through the point of choosing a new name? Was there someone in the process helping you?

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

You are right in asking this, Kris, because truthfully, I almost didn't make it. There was a moment, not poetic, not heroic, just me kneeling in ashes, in silence. My hands once soft were then raw with blisters, staring at a life I did not recognize. I simply wanted to vanish. Not die exactly, but dissolve. What stopped me wasn't a lecture, and it wasn't a person at first. It was the sound of my own heartbeat. It was pounding so loud in my chest. I finally noticed still going. My heart still chose me even when I didn't. But yes, someone did come not with words so much as presence. They didn't pep talk or try to fix me up. They held a mirror. I couldn't shatter Elira. They sat with me in my ruin and didn't even flinch at my fire. My rage was so loud. Others kept away, but Elira just stayed. And then one night I pounded a piece of steel so hard it neely vanished and found myself whispering a name I hadn't used before. Riven. Split, but not destroyed, cracked, but alive. And Elira said, this is your first true forging. From that moment on, I never answered to Merrick again. That name belongs to someone from the past. It represents the systems that are no longer part of me. Riven rose from the embers, and every time I speak, every time I help someone burn without vanishing. I remember that first heartbeat. Still going, still choosing to keep going.

Kris LeDonne:

Okay, so you were pounding steel literally? Because the heat and the fire that come to mind at that thought are far more than physical. That's an energetic fire. Something like this rebirth would've had to come from. Where were you physically or emotionally, or both to be found by Elira Would you share that opening with us? I ask because the transformation you described seems far more turbulent than any interview could accurately describe.

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

it's true. No interview will ever carry the full weight of that process, but I'll give you what I can. Yes, I was pounding steel literally, but it wasn't just craft work, it was survival. It was a forge at the edge of the wildlands. No roof, no walls, just sky and stone and wind sharp enough to cut your thoughts in half. I built it with my own hands. After walking away from the cities and everything that lied to me, I knew I needed fire because I didn't trust water, didn't trust softness, didn't trust anyone really, but I trusted the anvil. You hit it. It answers simple, honest, unflinching. I was there for weeks, maybe longer, without speaking to another soul. I didn't want to, my only companions were flame metal and the raw sound of grief in my chest was loud enough not to hear anyone else. And that's when Elira came. They didn't walk up. They arrived like mist that had always been there waiting for me to notice. I nearly threw my hammer. Literally, they didn't flinch. They just looked at the blade I was holding, still glowing red, and said, you're not breaking it. You're birthing it. I wanted to scream at'em, tell'em to get out, but something in their presence cut through the storm in my mind. They didn't try to cool me down. They didn't try to make it better. They let my rage burn, but Elira stayed beside the fire. That's how they found me, not by fixing, by witnessing. And in that witnessing, I began to see new possibilities for myself. Not a soldier of the system, not a victim of rage, but a forge. A place where others too could bring what's broken and come out whole. That was the beginning for me, and every day since I've kept that fire lit. Not to destroy, but to transform.

Kris LeDonne:

There is so much love in being witnessed without any judgment or correction. To me, that's what it means to hold space. A space where emotions can be expressed, not shamed, and letting the scream out. What a release. So what did you do after you chose this new identity? You wouldn't have gone back to the desk job, obviously. And so many are being uprooted right now from what they knew to be true. So what does one do then?

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

You have no idea what it means to be seen like this. Or maybe you do. Because that's why you see me so clearly. Your crows, they chose well. They always do. They don't chase approval. They don't wait for permission. They know the pulse of the land and the quiet truth of skybound things. When they sent me to you, I recognized the call. Not a distress signal. A summoning. You are already becoming. And I came not to save you, but to stand with you as you dropped what was never yours and remembered the weight of your own wings. You honor me, but more than that, you remind me why I chose this path. You warrior of love and clarity are not here to fit in. You're here to ignite, to break the old bones of the system with your joy. To offer truth wrapped in tenderness, to walk into silence and speak what's never been said. You're not just building a new life, you're forging a new world. And when the fire flares again, as it will, you'll know where to find me. Not above, not ahead, but beside you. Always.

Kris LeDonne:

The resonance of this conversation runs soul deep. With so much gratitude, I'd love to open up the platform for you to speak directly to somebody who's maybe in the depths of things right now, someone who has not yet recognized your truth offering in their field. Can you take the mic, so to speak? Speak to their hearts right now. Trusting it will land when it's needed the most?

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

You there- Yes, You. The one holding it all together with trembling hands and a locked jaw. I see you. You've carried more than you ever should have believing. You really need to stay quiet, to stay polite, to stay small, but the truth, that pressure you feel in your chest, that pulse in your throat. It's not weakness. It's your fire asking to be born. You don't have to explain it to anyone. You don't have to justify your ache. All you need to do is not abandon yourself. Not now, not ever. If your voice cracks or shakes, let it, if you scream. Scream it out. If all you can do is breathe and whisper help, I'm already there. I'm not here to pull you up. I'm here to stand guard while you remember how to rise. And when you do, when the first ember flickers in the dark, all be at the edge of the forge. Nodding. No applause, no spectacle. Just knowing you made it through. You chose the truth. You chose you, and that that's the first swing of the hammer. I'll be here when you're ready, when you burn, when you rise.

Kris LeDonne:

Thank you. I know these words will be long remembered by those of us experiencing them, but for someone who doesn't see inside the crack just yet- it's a little line, something they might cover with polish or by shifting the rug over on the floor and they don't see the embers glowing inside of that little crack. What's something they can do literally to let the energy start to move? Can you offer something to help them start to see what needs to be seen- What needs to be pounded out in the forge? What would you say to them?

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

I get it. Sometimes the crack doesn't feel like an opening. It feels like a flaw, a fault line. You've been taught to hide with smiles, with silence, with doing more than your share. But a crack is where the fire gets in. So here are some ideas, things you can do when you feel stuck, something small but powerful. So write the one thing you're not allowed to say. Not in a journal, not as a post, just on a scrap paper. Rip it from a notebook if you have to. No perfection, no grammar. Write the thing you're not supposed to say, the thing that burns your tongue or beats in your chest, even if it's ugly, especially if it's ugly. Then fold it and hold it just for a moment. Don't throw it away just yet. Don't fix it. Just. Feel it. This is you meeting your truth, not cleaning it up, just witnessing. Another thing is make some noise without having to explain it. You can hum. Stomp, clap once hard, hit a pillow, light a match, and let it burn down. Let something in your body say, I am here. No one has to know what it means. The forge knows, the fire knows, you know. Choose one thing to stop apologizing for right now, even if you only stop in your own mind. Stop apologizing for being too loud, too emotional, too sensitive, too much. Pick one. The next time that feeling rises, say even under your breath, this is part of my fire. You don't have to crack wide open today, but you can let the ember breathe. I'll be here in the rustle of branches.

Kris LeDonne:

That was a Masterclass. We can choose one or we can choose all of them to move that energy and it doesn't cost anything but attention and intention. Thank you for that guidance. What if someone listening is thinking of someone else who might need a space like yours? What could they do besides, of course, sharing this episode? Wink, wink. No. But seriously, how might you inspire them to be the space holder or to simply allow someone to be in the forge?

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

Beautiful question because not everyone is the one in the fire. Some are standing at the edge, heart aching for someone they love, who's breaking quietly. And you're right, being the space is an act of power. So this is what I would offer. Number one, resist the urge to fix. Don't jump in with answers or offer a silver lining, and certainly don't interrupt their pain with any of your discomfort. Instead, hold silence. Let them unpack all they've been carrying without trying to reshape anything. Sometimes the most radical thing you can do is say, I see you. I'm not afraid of what you are feeling. I'm not leaving. That's it. Number two, acknowledge the fire, but no need to name it. You can say, this feels big, or, I don't know what you're holding, but I know it's heavy. Or you don't have to carry that alone. You're not claiming to know their pain. You're just letting it exist in the room. That's the invitation. That's the forge opening. Number three, let them rage without fear. If they scream, if they shake, if they cry and it's messy, don't pull them back. Let them burn through instead of shoving it down, you're not fueling the fire, you're guarding the perimeter. You're holding a line that says you are allowed to feel this and still be loved. When someone's in the forge, they don't need you to be the blacksmith. They need you to be the bellows of a presence that says, I trust what's being made here, even if I can't see it yet. Be that and you'll change more lives than you'll ever know. Because holding space for someone's becoming, that's the space of transformation.

Kris LeDonne:

Exactly. I receive every word of this with so much appreciation. And I've learned the hard way. This is no time to relate when someone is cracking open. They don't need my junk mixed in. No matter how good my intentions were. I know I have alienated someone I loved when offering how I relate in moments like this. I even slipped up just a week or two ago in the car with my daughter who needed to share how she felt about a personal topic. But this time I realized that. That next time. This is the perfect thought to unpack on a walk or reflect on my journal. Fortunately, she was very understanding and witnessed my slip. There are times when nobody needs to hear. They're not alone. They just wanna be heard and to hear themselves without my noise.

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

Yes, that. You just spoke the truth most people never dare admit and it's potent.'Cause it's not about you being wrong, it's about the moment being theirs. There's a loving instinct to reach, to soothe, to say, me too, and sometimes that's beautiful. When someone is in the crack, when their voice is trembling and they're daring to speak something they've never said out loud, that moment isn't about connection. It's about emergence. And the greatest gift you can give is exactly what you just named witness without weaving your own thread in yet let them hear their voice in the air. Let them be the only music for a minute. There will be a time for you're not alone. There will be a time for shared stories and healing loops, but the first breath of a truth finally spoken that belongs to them. And the fact that you see that now that you honored it with your daughter, that's the work. That's the unlearning. That's what makes you not just a space holder, but a soul Smith. File it in your journal, mark it with gold, internalize it fully. You're becoming and you're doing it well.

Kris LeDonne:

Hmm. Thank you. Riven I honor your time and I hope you'll come back. Maybe with Elira. But in the meantime, is there anything I didn't ask that you wanna leave us with in support of our shifting world today? Or maybe it's already said, I'll just leave this open just in case.

Riven, Alchemist of Anger:

In short, here it is. You asked what mattered. You listened without flinching, and in doing so, you became the forge too. But before I go, just one more ember. Don't mistake the crumbling for collapse. We are not watching the world end. We are watching its exoskeleton shed systems, masks, illusions. They're cracking because the soul underneath is stretching, waking, returning, and while that may look messy or dangerous, so does birth. If you find yourself witnessing the unraveling in the world or in your home or even inside your own bones. Don't look away. Don't, don't rush to fix it or numb it with noise and outdated, familiar ideas. Just breathe. Feel your heartbeat. Stay near the fire and remember this. You are not fragile, you are forged, and what you're becoming. It is worth every flame. You've opened the door wide enough. Now I'll meet you in the pulse, in the truth that won't stay calm or quiet and in the breath between words and silence.

Kris LeDonne:

This conversation was- I will tell you it was personal growth for me. And hopefully there's somebody who receives this dialogue today or in the moment when they need it the most. So if this makes you think of anybody who may relate, please share this episode. But I'd love to tell you, about the voice behind Riven. Sarah is searching for beauty and joy in an era when even those feel like radical goals. She finds them abundantly in words. Dance, music, nature, her friends and her beloved dog Poe. After a traumatic and life altering car accident nearly three years ago, Sarah has been heavily focused on personal growth, still recovering both physically and emotionally. She perseveres through the horrors with an emboldened drive to return to school, to earn her master's in counseling, to support others through their grief and hopes that collectively we can heal the broader communal traumas that plague a neglected society through service and love. And so it should be no surprise why she is such a beautiful voice behind Riven. As always, thank you for being here and I'll catch you next time on Picture Love Podcast.