I’ve been mulling conflict over the last little while. Over the past few years I’ve been learning what it means to be a warrior of peace. It takes discipline, courage, and heart. I set a goal, and I achieved that goal. I’ve set another goal, but this time something seems to be blocking that path.
Something in me, is blocking that path. I’ve talked about a dream. A big one. I’ve cast some initial lines out, and snagged some nibbles. Perhaps I’m waiting for the courage, perhaps I need to learn more.
I’m in a place where I need the guidance and direction of other warriors. In the before time, people may have fostered that warrior spirit in me, from a young age. I may have taken part in the hunt. Perhaps even small raids. Maybe I’ve counted coo.
Standing at the precipice. I see below me, the spoils of war. A long war waged on our people, and the generous spirit of Mother Earth and all of her spirit family. It’s not pretty. I’ve called myself a “survivor by proxy” from the warrior spirit turned inward. I’ve heard the great war stories and exploits of those from the front lines. It sounds grand. It sounds so brave to stand up.
As I stand here in this place, surveying the damage, I encounter some of the wartorn. They are strong, immovable, and nearly unreachable. I wonder why they are so irritable and impatient with me. I have yet to bleed, to bruise. Soft. Their rough exterior are teachings in itself. I am honest in my answers to their questions, and I am denied. I question myself. How can I prove my bravery when my worst stories are brought to bear. These are teachings too. It was not my path. So I was led to another place.
I miss the presence of other warriors. I miss the presence of my aunties, my mother. My grandmother. I miss the presence of women who would teach me how to stand tall, and speak my truth…full, and strong and true. Oftentimes I find myself in a place where it’s still difficult to just get out of bed. I wonder if I am living my purpose.
Do I speak my truth…or do I find a place where fear of reprisal welcomes me into her open arms?
I make so many excuses…still. Am I to be a warrior when I cannot even earn my own trust and respect. To be disciplined. Is there going to become a time when I require mySELF to stand up? Is that the time of the rite of passage that I await?
Do I insist on the approval of others, I’ve always been sheltered. Protected. I’ve run. When do I require myself to make a stand. I watch for that time. I admire so many others who have made those spaces and held their ground. Where will I make my stand.
I stand here watching the war rage on. I’m standing. Contemplating the leap I must make. I must act. I must act, commit fully, and trust myself completely. There are so many battles. I evaluate my strengths, my abilities, my gifts. Where can my actions be most effective. I draw on diplomacy, tact, and negotiation. So many have fallen. Their names an ever present epitiaph. Is this what it feels like to be the young, inexperienced one? Sitting in the firelight listening to the war stories.
What is it to jump into the foray. Inexperienced, reckless, headstrong. Sure to piss people off. How else to distinguish myself from others already on the batle field. If they want to be pissed, let them. Experience is the best teacher. I stand here. Contemplating. Preparing. Calculating. Devising a plan, a strategy. No one else knows my path but me, no one knows my truth but me. I must trust that spirit will guide me forward.
Will I walk into battle armed with strategies, strength, and courage? Or will I use the transformational arsenal at my disposal to avoid outright conflict? This, I see as a rite of passage for the young, inexperienced warrior. Frozen in place. Unable to move…
Praying to Creator for release. For some momentum to propel her forward.