It finally hit me, kinda all at once. The voice inside, loud and clear; all warrior-priestess-like. “You are worthy, like totally. Stop playing small, step into your power, be your badass, wild self and start living like you want to live. And by the way, do it NOW!”

And for once, I surrendered and just said yes. I mean, I didn’t question it. I didn’t come up with a billion excuses. I didn’t find a way to resist, like the multiple decades leading up to this moment. It was time to do this thing. Time to stop apologizing for my enthusiasm, my magic, my awesomeness, my fire.
I accepted people would run in the other direction once I gave in to this force. I understood it might mean relationships would fall apart. I waited for my kids to hate me and for my friends to stop calling. This woman taking over inside of me, she means business and I know that means serious shit-hitting-fan moments. “Bring it on,” was the response that whispered through my soul.

Warrior Priestess quote“I don’t want to be married anymore,” was what I told my husband. I bought new clothes. Drank beer. I stopped keeping myself quiet when I wanted to laugh or shout. I started saying what I felt and doing what I needed to breathe. I started loving my own body, mind and soul…and all of a sudden I felt lighter. The signs kept coming. Lightness. The big bird sightings. The repeating numbers. The synchronous moments followed one after another, leaving no room for doubt.

A career of awareness and healing brought me to this moment. A lifetime of exploration, reflection, and fucking hard work on myself. Loads of questions. Hours of journaling. Three books worth of poetry. Repeatedly annoying pleas to my BFF to talk. Constant doubt, worry and fear.

Until that moment when the beat dropped. You know like in those electronic dance songs where the sound pulls you along, making you wait…you know it’s coming, and you kind of feel the tense excitement. Then the drop hits you all at once and you find your body moving with an uncontrollable force. It’s time to dance.

Yeah, like that. Easy. Instant. Unstoppable.

My soul showed up and wasn’t going to be shown the door anymore. I knew the moment was the deal-breaker version.

So what’s a girl to do when her Warrior Priestess shows up and demands she dance? Oh you better believe you dance. Or suffer the excruciating squeeze-spell she puts on your heart if you choose to ignore her.

Mmm. No. Can’t do that anymore.

So that dance…it’s this intricate, soulful, sensual, fanatical and powerful combination of yin and yang. Of desperation and surrender. Of normal and rebel. The dance is first an uncomfortable  squirm and then when you finally say, “What the fuck” and you let go…it becomes an energetic flow that shoots out from your pores. Passers by start to look. They can feel it. It’s got a raspberry pink glow. And you start to attract other warriors.

That energy fuels you. You start to eat it for breakfast, when your appetite returns. You can feel your body shaking off what’s unnecessary, the old skin peeling off. And when you get tired of that peeling you reach down and rip the rest of that sucker off and some wild noise comes out of your mouth and you’re born. The you that’s been doing this mother-fucking, hard ass, cruel, painstaking and brilliant journey of becoming, she arrives.

That takes a warrior.

Of course you don’t have to be a warrior. Instead you might hide. Or numb up. Or play small and suffocate. But if you’re like me, not breathing is getting to you. Sooner or later you choose to put the feathered head-dress on, paint your naked body with war colors and run through the fields with your sword screaming like Braveheart and declaring your freedom.

Something like that.

The dance is more work though. I’m sick of working so hard to be me. So this one day, when my worth came flooding in, nearly choking me, I just let it. I let it kill off what was left of my doubt. What was left of “I care too much about what you think of me.” I let it drown out the voices. I let it rule. I just whispered, “okay, I’m good, you got this.”

And like the movie Ghost; you remember when Whoopie would step into and take over the body of her grieving friend? It felt like that; like I stepped into my warrior soul and nothing would ever be the same again. Like I was channeling pure power. When pure power has been shoved down deep and sat on for too long, well, think volcano.

If any of this sounds crazy, believe me, it is. It’s crazy-making. Until I can integrate the two worlds doing this dance inside of me I think I’ll have to just accept the insanity. I’ve warned my closest posse, “If I do or say anything that sounds different, well, it is. I am.” I’ve accepted the new disciplined level of the awareness I know I’ll need to survive this. I’ve created the tribe I need to support it. They don’t run in the other direction. They stick around to makeSmall Pics sure I’m accountable to my own soul.

“What do you need?” he asks, feeling the doneness in me. “What do I need?” I say, feeling twenty years of resentment start to gather into words. He’s ready to give me anything I want. Do what I want him to do and say what I need to hear. Be the sacred masculine my priestess has craved for decades. But it’s too late for empty promises and the tension creeps back around my heart like a quick-growing weed after a rainstorm. No. I get my pruning shears out.


It’s too late. Wait until I’m done and then tell me you’ll do anything? Just. No.

I go back to the dance instead. I put my head-dress back on, paint my naked body, slide the sword into its sheath. Perching my hands on my hips I wait, ready for the move that’ll trigger the battle cry.

This’s tiring though. I just want to hear, “I got this.” I want to surrender to love. Real love. Not the fake shit I’ve been doing for my whole life. Not the love soaked in unworthiness. I want to be filled up with the kind of spiritual love they talk about in the movies. I want to know this, for just once; to understand what I’ve been missing to the point of no return. To the point of ache. And place my sword aside for a while.

I can feel the warrior. She’s alive and fierce. She’s beautiful. Confident. Wild. Unwilling to settle. She can handle the ache that comes with the knowing. And she’ll take what she needs to ensure survival. She’s a little dangerous and I love that. She turns me on. But she’s also soft, lit up, ready for the taking. She’s learning how to do the dance and keep herself soft.

In my moment of surrender I realize this’s the beginning. If I’m willing to fight this fight, this’ll be the beginning of a story I can tell my grandchildren about, about real love. About manifesting your dreams. About anything being possible, including the kind of stuff you see in the movies.

This could be the beginning of everything I imagined life could be, including all the magic, the sacredness, the stuff that makes you tingle in places you didn’t realize could tingle. If I’m willing to dance this dance and honor the priestess that’s shown up to convince me of what’s possible, I can have anything I desire. Only I’ll need to be ready for war.

This’s about warrior love. This war will be fought in the name of authenticity, generosity, gratitude and kindness. And even though those things sound nice and soft, don’t be fooled. They’re powerful things. They’re exactly the best things to fight for, the things we should be the most ferocious about. The things we should sacrifice for.

I’ve thought about giving up. Keeping it all easy. Safe. Just moving through with a half-assed dance, working out the resignation and coming up with great excuses to stay in a cold, steel-lined comfort zone. I can surely make it that way. Maybe save myself some trouble. Save my kids, friends and family the stress of having to watch me fall apart. Of having to talk about their mom/friend/daughter and her drama.

And then she shows up again, the priestess, and pangs my chest, reminding me of what I’m doing to myself every time I say okay to normal, follow other people’s rules, and live life tethered to fear. And because her super-power is moving through fear, she grabs my hand and starts walking hard through the wall. Her grip is tight and gentle. She lets me close my eyes. She whispers in my ear, “You got this.”


Laura Probert, MPT is a holistic physical therapist, published author, inspirational teacher, poet, and black belt in Tae Kwon Do. She’ll help you heal the stuff that gets in the way of you writing, creating and running your life and business like the brave healer you are. She’s serious about integrating mind, body and soul as a journey to passion and power and it’s her mission to show you how. You can find her writing featured in places like The Huffington Post, MindBodyGreen, Best Self Magazine, The Wellness Universe, Wild Sister Magazine, Tiny Buddha and The Elephant Journal. 

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