Tragedy of the courageous warrior child...

Tragedy of the courageous warrior child...

Each Warrior wants to leave the mark of his will, his signature, on important acts he touches. This is not the voice of ego but of the human spirit, rising up and declaring that it has something to contribute to the solution of the hardest problems, no matter how vexing!
— Pat Riley
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"The young, courageous warrior wakes up with love in her eyes and compassion in her heart, ready to do her part in the world. She joyfully runs around her room picking out her favorite undergarments, dress, riding boots, and gloves. Then, with grace and awe, she unveils her beloved velvet cape, passed down to her from generations of strong warrior women. Running her hands gently over the worn, soft velvet, she brings it close to her chest, feeling the power and strength imbued in it. Wrapping it over her shoulders, she feels the thrill of the day to come. She steps outside and slides her foot into the stirrup to mount her trusty steed.

As her hair flows in the wind and her horse begins to gallop swiftly, she is on her way to a nearby village that desperately needs her help. Suddenly she sees ahead of her a band of men spread across her path. Her innocent heart worries that there is something wrong, and she wonders whether they need her help. As she slows down, one burly man screams out, “What are you doing here? Where are you going?” The young, courageous warrior proudly replies, “I’m on my way to the next village, where they need my help. My purpose here is to serve.” With a smile still on her face, not understanding why these men are blocking her path, she asks them, “Do you need any help?” And with that, she hears their loud retort. “No! No! Go back!” they scream at her. “Go back! You’re a young girl. This is not a job for you. This is a man’s world and a man’s job.” She replies, “I know I’m not a man, but I have all the power I need to serve alongside you.” Again, they laugh and yell out, “You’re not a warrior of any kind. We are here to send you home!” As the blood drains from her face, she feels the urge to fight back. She is boiling with anger, yet aware that these big men could hurt her.

After more taunting, she pulls back the reins and turns to go home. Slowly riding away, she wonders why it’s a man’s job. She wonders why she can’t express herself and serve others. She never before heard the words “This is a man’s world.” She wonders, “Is this the truth?” As she allows herself to begin to doubt and question her motives, she hears a voice inside her that she can barely recognize. It is nothing like the Voice of Courage that wakes her up each morning saying, “You are an extraordinary gift to the world. There is nothing you can’t do. There is no one in the world like you. We need you.” Instead, she hears an unfamiliar voice warning her, “It’s not safe out here. You’d better be careful. Who do you think you are? You’re nothing special. The world doesn’t need you.” The young warrior, now feeling unstable and unsure of herself, stops near her home, hidden by the trees. She doesn’t understand these feelings that are going on inside of her. She closes her eyes to catch a breath, but when she wakes up from her moment of reflection, although she doesn’t realize it, she’s not the same. She has fallen into a trance.

Instead of remaining mounted on her noble steed, continuing her mission to aid, uplift, and unshackle the hearts of people everywhere, she does as she is told. Instead of offering the world her fullest potential, she believes the story of herself as a helpless, powerless maiden who has to wait endlessly for her prince to arrive, kiss her, take her away to a better place, and save her from a life of drudgery and meaninglessness. In an instant, she changes from a young warrior conquering fear and injustice to a scared child whom nobody can see, who doesn’t matter, and whose voice isn’t heard. Thus comes about the death of the courageous warrior child." 

Excerpt from a book "Courage" by Debbie Ford 

What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything? ~ Vincent Van Gogh

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