This one is for the Warrior Queen.
In the days leading up to writing this, I kept catching glimpses of what I wanted to say… stories from my life, observations of others… but as I sat down to write, nothing clicked.
What came out instead, is more of a meditation. An attempt to capture in words my own wrestle with the Warrior Queen.
May the Messy be with You.
Ugh this is so hard to write! I can feel it floating around inside me but trying to get it into anything cohesive and legible right now is a challenge!
It feels messy, chaotic. Thoughts and feelings swirling around that I can’t quite grab hold of.
I feel helpless. Standing here in the middle of a churning storm. Reaching out but not able to grasp anything solid.
My eyes widening in fear and overwhelm. My body starting to shrink. I feel like a lost cause.
Drowning in the immense vast space of possibilities. Sinking into the black abyss because my feet aren’t planted on anything; just sinking into this thick murky oily midnight blue sheen that makes me want to scream.
I want to sink into that abyss… run away and give up. No wait, I want to scream! Destroy everything and everyone that crosses my path.
How dare she!? How could he!? I want to maim and slay and wallow in a pitiful pool of my tears.
I want to roar. I want to rage. I want to let loose all that is trapped inside me. Get it out, even if it’s scattered into a million little piece that don’t make sense to anyone including me.
And so I do. I twist and turn and churn and wrestle with this process of creation, of life. This thing that is supposed to bring joy, and all I feel is pain.
The pain wrenches at my heart. My body heaves and my limbs flail, as if possessed by something other than me. I want to rip and tear it out.
I wriggle and writhe as something is finally dislodged within me. At first I resist, but the more I fight, the more I feel the scorching pain, and so at last, all I can do is succumb to what I can not control.
I drag what’s left of me across the floor, bloodying my knees, clutching for something, anything to pull me out of this tormented place.
I lie there, tears staining my dust-covered face. Sweat dripping down my weary body; stinging, as each drop washes over a scar that has been reopened. My clothes are barely covering me, leaving my wounds exposed.
I lie there. All I can do is breathe. I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything intact. Erase the past, hide from my shadow, present myself as perfect and clean.
I can no longer escape the inevitable; the unravelling of me, so that I can find ME.
At last it is gone; the noise, the ache. I am listless on the floor. Empty. Exhausted. Exalted.
It is from there, that I rise.
Slowly, with purposeful prowess.
I climb onto my hands and knees, balancing my weary body.
My legs begin to straighten, my hips lifting to the sky. I steadily, stealthy, settle back into my self. My shoulders widen, my chest broadens. My breasts become firm and fierce. As my neck awakens and my head tilts upward, my eyes dart like lasers.
I see everything.
I am not one to be fooled. Not to be messed with. I am a force, a field, to reckon with.
My feet now firmly planted where I stand. The curves of my calves and thighs like marble anchors, commanding awe and respect for their form and function.
The world in motion around them, like rapids of a river, churning by.
I do not care.
I not only see. I Know.
I Know, and it is from this Knowing that I stand and can not be shaken.
It is from this Knowing that I pardon some, offer refuge to others, and close the doors on the rest. For I stand for only that which I Know.
Truth. Justice. Peace.
And this can not be taken from me.
Yes, I will fight. But I will only engage with what matters. I will not dignify the vices of others with my attention.
Yes, I will lead. But only from a place of stillness and silence. What I don’t say speaks louder than what utters from my lips.
Those who have come before me have fought to be seen, heard, respected.
They have fought to earn an equal place at a man’s table. Yet in doing so, they have given up our thrones.
Given up our seat that is shrouded with wisdom and compassion. We have joined in the power struggle that feeds our ego; constantly asking, “Who’s the fairest of them all?”
Who’s the prettiest? The smartest? The most organized? The most capable of spinning the mother, wife, friend, executive, hostess, volunteer, and pie-of-the-year, plates all at the same time?
And so we compete with each other to win that battle.
What if our Warrior Queen was the voice inside that says, “Don’t even bother. That battle? A waste of your time.”
“Come over here and put your powers to use for what really matters.”
Nurture. Commune. Create. Support. Heal.
Instead of competing to see who can tread water for the longest…
Hold each other’s hand as you float, together.
Instead of hustling to see who can burn the most calories, bridges, and bras…
Let your action be fueled by stillness. As in: Only ever take action AFTER you have paused to check-in FIRST.
Instead of raising the volume and velocity of your voice in an effort to be heard…
Quiet your mind so that when you speak, others have no choice but to listen.
THIS is how you wage war. THIS is how you lead.
Your fight is no longer a struggle. Your leadership no longer a contest.
Your fight transcends to a stance of solidarity. Your leadership a posture of grace.
But don’t be fooled to think that these are garments that you just purchase and adorn yourself with.
No. These are not objects or labels that you find outside of you.
The only way to wear them, is to find them within.
And that my friend, is MESSY.
How do you find a crown jewel amongst decades of fakes, piled up in the corner?
How do you find a pearl buried at the bottom of the sea?
You have to untangle the mess, strand by strand. The strands of your ego that have been trying to get you to believe you need to be more than you are.
You have to dive deep into the dark waters of your soul, face the fears you’ve been trying to protect yourself from.
You have to sit with the blistering discomfort of not knowing when any of this is going to end.
You have to writhe and wrestle. Roar and rage. Toss, turn, and tantrum.
Until You are left. Empty. On the floor. With no more fight left inside.
Only then, breath by breath, do you rise.
Woman that you are.
At Embody, you have the space to wrestle with the mess. Through music and movement, you can rage and roar to your hearts delight, and rise to take your place as the leader that you are. Check out classes happening near you at www.embodydanceclass.com. Sign up for my newsletter and be the first to know about classes I teach.