Tag: warrior

Begin again

Seven years. Seven years ago today I fell prey to a hawk, his sharp claws leaving marks on my body. Seven years, they say, it takes for the cells in your body to have been replaced by new ones. This miracle of regeneration means that this body of mine hasn’t been violated. That he hasn’t touched me. And that after all these years of healing, I can begin again: unmarred, unharmed, untouched. It is time to leave the past behind. The scar he left on my soul will always be there, of course. But I’m ok with that. For me it’s a reminder that the world isn’t filled only with butterflies and dandelions. That there’s bad and good, dark and light, yin and yang. That there are dangers lurking in the shadows of the forest. And that you must always trust your intuition when it tells you it isn’t safe. But it also reminds me that there are things that can never be taken away from me. As Maya Angelou said, you are a child of god. So keep your warrior heart soft and follow the guidance of your inner light.

The art of healing

It’s a quiet summer evening. Raindrops are falling from the grey sky, there’s some light thunder in the background. A pigeon sits on a branch just outside my balcony, slightly hunched. In the distance I can see the lights of my neighbours garden. I’ve been given oceans of time just to sit, rest and dream. A few days ago I had an accident – a single unguarded moment and I fell down. The same way as I did exactly five years ago. When it happened, my first thought was: ‘not again!’ Last time my rehabilitation took almost six months. But so many things are different now. My life is so much richer, filled with the positive energy of beautiful people and animal friends. I’ve picked up new skills along the way, like the basics of first aid and where to get crutches. I’ve learned about healing trauma, how to follow the rhythm of my own body, the foods that nurture you, which herbs quicken the healing process, and about the magic power of touch. I’ve learned how to stop striving, always wanting to arrive in another place than where you are right now. Most importantly I’ve learned not to despair, but to trust in myself and the universe.

To each her own

Retreats are wonderful things. I mean the ones where a bunch of people go to a beautiful location for an intensive experience of something or other, with lots of togetherness. I’ve been on quite a few. From summer art camps to meditation/yoga/martial arts retreats across Europe. Now I’m finally ready to stop forcing myself to sign up for them. You see, being in a group drains my energy and if I’m deprived of the time I need to restore that energy, I get ill. Surrounded by so many happy campers, I’ve always felt there must be something wrong with me. If only I would be stronger, less sensitive, more relaxed, I would be able to keep up with the others. But there’s nothing wrong with me. Where does it say that growth (or enlightenment) can only be found in this intensive group setting? I understand now that just because something is good, it does not automatically mean that it is good for me. To each her own way and her own prayer. Or as a beautiful voice once whispered in my ear: you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. For me that is doing a little practice down by the river every day.

Without you

A broken heart isn’t the easiest thing to mend. You can do everything right: find solace with your dearest friends, embrace your new found freedom, sign up for super fierce kickboxing classes. But no matter how much you enjoy your own company or how often you remind yourself that some relationships aren’t meant to last, there will still be moments when you miss the joy of going on adventures together, waking up in each others arms or the way they made you burst out with laughter. There will still be tears. There will still be bittersweet memories that make the pieces of your heart falter. Of course, letting go of your soulmate is hard. But what it comes down to, the hardest thing to admit, is that I am afraid of truly being on my own. Of going into uncharted territory without someone there to hold my hand. But the truth of the matter is that you cannot go back to the past. So you have to be strong. Especially if you want your own light to shine bright. So just send them love and light every time you think of them, and continue on your way. For as a wise person once said: everything you need, is within you.

the way of play

Kung Fu Panda is one of my favourite films. I’ve watched it more times than I can count — enchanted by its humour, its wisdom, and the idea that what’s meant for you will find you. So when I joined a kung fu school, everything seemed to fall into place. I loved the training. I worked hard. I gave things up for it. I told myself: this is the way. But the path isn’t always a straight line. Sometimes it curves like a river. Sometimes it carries you somewhere you never meant to go. When things eventually fell apart (there are no accidents!), I followed a wild instinct and stepped into a capoeira class. I moved. I sang. I played. And something shifted. I realised I am not a panda. Kung fu is a beautiful art, but it never quite reached all the branches of my oak tree. Capoeira did. Now I’m learning to fight and to dance, to sing and to fall, to move in rhythm with others and with myself. It’s not about mastery, but about resonance. What feeds my practice, feeds my art. What lights me up, lights the path.