The Death of My Mind Warrior Princess

It was not so much a death in the traditional sense, but rather in the transformative sense. A dear spiritual confidant suggested that I retire the soldier that is so protective of me. The one who takes hold of my intelligent mind and uses most moments of the day trying “to figure everything out.” It pulls my being away from the “presence” and time flies by, feeling wasted to me, and I am not well. She suggested I thank this soldier for its beautiful work, because of course, at one time it was necessary and a savior.

So, I took the time. I sat, and I felt into that very familiar feeling of panic and worry and trying to figure it all out, and I breathed and I connected with this soldier, and she appeared, but it wasn’t a soldier at all. It was this stunning being – a warrior princess – my mind warrior princess. She was so tired, so worn out, so battle torn, and yet still so strong. I felt such instant love.

So, on I went, and I took her off duty. I honored her. I took off her armor, piece by piece, and let the angels there dissolve it all. I washed her white dress in the river, it was so dirty and tattered. I bathed her and fed her fruit while I washed her long hair. I crowned her, and I held her, with the three of us in embrace. It was her, me now, and me at ages 5 and 8. I had done some recent work of going back in time, and realized that me at those ages needed me. And so they had appeared again here, with us. We all held hands and skipped in a circle. My warrior princess remembered how she loved autumn where the season really changes, like back East, with that scent and the leaves and trees.

I had called her the devil. I didn’t know her. I thought it was a force hijacking my connection with the presence, but she is not the enemy. She is my deepest protector, but she also needs love, especially now, after all that she’s done.

She let a boy hold her and love her for a moment, and he wanted to protect her and care for her. She felt what that was like. She skipped along the water where the green grass was and fell back into a field of white daisies in her white dress with her princess crown. She took a bite of a cupcake. She smiled and laughed, but then she worried, “but – what if?” And I said, “no, the war is over. It’s okay. You’re really free. You’re safe. It’s time. I promise you. We’re safe.” And we all embraced. Me, her, me and me. A tear rolled down her cheek. Relief.

She sat with her eyes closed, head bowed for a while. She wanted to rest. So, we all cuddled wrapped in this cloud of white bedding, such deep, deep rest. Then she turned toward the sun and said in the warmth of its rays, “well, maybe when I’m ready, I could do something fun.” “Yes, yes,” I said, “you can do anything you want.”

“I’ll dance,” she said, “then I’ll see how I feel.” And she just wanted to “be,” to sit and back. To just be. This is something she’d never felt. To be free, she was overjoyed, overjoyed, overjoyed. Tears flowed.

I let her be. In this field green and of flowers with the river and the breeze. And she is free.

It has been a few days since we did this, and my mind has been oddly still. There is room. There is presence. There is peace. She is with me, but she is free.