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May 28, 2015

The Face that Does not Fit: My Internal Crusade.

female warrior

I dress for the battlefield.

A suit of armor is chosen to don on this day. Mantras are recited to encourage each footfall to the vigil I will hold. Standing tall, chest proud, chin humble and gaze steady.

War paint is applied to conceal the human within. This war paint encases the face of a warrior goddess ready for another victory.

I gather the items that will sustain me, and get ready to leave.

In preparation, I check to ensure the necessities are available and functioning: a personal device to communicate—Google, a list of duties requiring action, currency to sustain interim needs, and my war paint and attire immaculately put together.

A course is set for the combat of today. I fight traffic, parking time, heat and every request made of me. As the day wears on, fatigue sets in. A protein bar to keep energy reserves is stored in the compartment of my vehicle.

Walking with determination to a destination among horns, hollers and heat: a glimpse of a warrior is caught from a glass reflection. The warrior slows and meets my gaze. She is beautiful and worn. With a deep breath she drinks in my image. Her shoulders relax, and her gaze is quizzical.

Observation sees a run in her nylons. Her hair is coming loose, and her warrior paint showing fatigue.

Following my deep inhale her exhale is visible and nourishing. My fingers skim the run in the nylons. She smiles her warrior smile.

The day is almost done. The battle is nearing to an end.

I recognize the warrior within.

Smiling at the reflection, I see that my face does not fit. The make up looks harsh, and clothes out of place. Longing is felt for recovery attire of the messy bun and clothes with no defining waistline.

Acknowledging the warrior, I close my eyes and breathe. Continuing the journey home where I will wash off the day and free myself of confining attire.

At home, active love and gratitude will be practiced with those who share the space. Letting my hair fall loose around my shoulders while cleansing my skin to its natural glamour. The warrior will no longer be entertained while space is held for the vulnerable and sensitive woman of my truest nature.

Tomorrow is a new battle. It is an internal crusade of shedding the warrior, while merging my truest nature the compassionate, vulnerable and eager woman that yearns for her place.

When the war paint is worn, my face does not fit.

 

Relephant:

The Traits of a Warrior & Lessons from Paulo Coelho.

 

Author: Jennifer Quinlan

Editor: Catherine Monkman

Photo: Christiaan Tonnis/Flickr

 

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