It was the second week of September last year, 2019, when the shaman whispered.
It was a gathering of female healers in Pisaq in the Sacred Valley of the Incas when the shaman whispered.
It was Sunday afternoon, and all the men were invited to join the 550 women who had gathered for a week in the mountains when the shaman whispered.
It was me, sitting amidst the men, surrounded by Hundreds of women, staring at the ‘abuelitas’, the grandmothers from Australia, Africa, North America and elsewhere, staring how they danced along the circle line, gifting their prayers towards us. I am not sure, but my memory says it was the ‘abuelita’ from Africa whose eyes crossed my glance for a second, and I heard her voice very clearly inside of me: ‘A warrior’.
I didn’t feel like a warrior then, neither did I like the expression. Of course I had stumbled across the term ‘Warrior of Light’ a lot of times, but the vocabulary of war never attracted me.
And now a Sacred woman had let me know that I’d be on the path of a warrior.
I forgot about this incident, only to have it hammered back into my consciousness one month later.
When the shadows came…
‘Be the Son of Love. Be the Son of Light. Be the Son of Healing.’, had Karen said, my healer here in Pisaq. ‘This will protect you from the shadows, nothing and no one else will.’
And so, night after night, I fought against the shadows, against the panic attacks and the thunderstorm of fear that held me in their claws. Until I understood that fighting is suffering, until I understood that a warrior’s task is not necessarily to fight. A warrior can also embrace, surrender, listen. Which is the harder task, by far.
And so, little by little, I developed into a warrior who started to talk with his inner child.
Became a warrior who listened to his fear instead of turning away from it.
A warrior whose weapons were Patience, Love, Forgiveness.
When I looked up the word one afternoon, I found this on Wikipedia:
The English word war derives from the 11th-century Old English words wyrre and werre, from Old French werre (also guerre as in modern French), in turn from the Frankish *werra, ultimately deriving from the Proto-Germanic *werzō ‘mixture, confusion’. The word is related to the Old Saxon werran, Old High German werran, and the German verwirren, meaning “to confuse”, “to perplex”, and “to bring into confusion”.
And yes, to bring light into dark chaos, to see clearly with the heart: this kind of warrior I want to be.
Walking the path of the warrior of light means diving into one own’s shadows. To overcome the deep fears of childhood, former lives and maybe even tribe, society or planet. In order to find one own’s strength, one own’s place in the world. And it means to humbly accept this place and give up competition. It means to overcome doubt, by finding trust in oneself. A holy trust that no hurricane, whether from the inside nor from the outside, can destroy.
And one night in November I woke up in the middle of the night, bathed in what felt like electricity. My whole body was vibrating, for several minutes, a sensation that normally would have instantly led to fear. But there was no fear, as I was filled with Love, with immeasurable Love. And I understood that Taita Kuna, God, the Creator held me in his hand. Showing me that all is good, that He sees me, that She watches over me and that I am being led by my Spirits.
A couple of minutes, so necessarily needed by the warrior. And creating confidence to find my way, through darkness, doubt & sadness.