What is a Warrior?

The countenance of her face reflects experiences of battle victories and losses. She stands with her right hand clutching a blood-stained sword, and her left hand grasps a battle seasoned shield. Although in every battle death seeks to lay hold of her, she has a certain amount of control over her fate. She also has an end to each battle; a time to count her losses, say goodbye to fallen friends, and time to heal from her wounds. She is a warrior in the physical realm.

Now the warrior is fighting the bloodiest battle known to her. Yet there is no bloodshed. Feeling she could literally sweat drops of blood - she finds there is no sweat on her brow. The thrust of a sword pierces her heart, and the slash of a broadsword opens her chest. Either one a fatal blow, she looks to view the carnage and welcome death, but she finds neither. There is no bloodshed. Nor is there closure of death bringing the battle to an end. The wounds are not visible, but they are cut deeply into her chest. And there is no time to dress them, as there are other warriors tucked behind her, and one whom has already been carried off into captivity. Instead, she must press on and immediately raise her sword and shield again in anticipation of the next blow.

Many have been in these battles for years, but they remained content to watch from a distance in the "safety" of camp. They shouted the occasional encouragement for a warrior on the battlefield - even entering a major skirmish from time to time. But they spent most hours in the camp never properly preparing for THE battle of their lives. Becoming ripe they were lulled into sleep while the enemy walked right into their camp and took captive that which is the most precious to their lives.

A suit of armor rarely used, but necessary for the preservation of life, is awkward to put on in the heat of battle. The few dents in the shield are reminders of battles long past. The sword is unfamiliar. In a true warrior's hand the same sword would be a extension of her natural body. The fluid movement of the dance would include blocking, slashing, thrusting forward with the death blow, taking no time for rest, immediately positioning for the next move and advancing herself. She would take the battle to the attacker rather than allowing it to attack her.

The surprised warrior in the camp has no time to practice such a dance. She can only live as if every breath depends on the success of each battle. Every word, every thought and every action must be guarded. Such has been true of our warrior.

While experiencing victories and losses in the ebb and flow of life, her loved ones have been carried off by the enemy. Unprepared to fight this type of battle, too slow to dress herself in true armor, she watched in horror and disbelief as the enemy dismantled her camp and destroyed those most precious to her.

With a shredded soul and grief-stricken heart our warrior feels the Spirit of her Commander rising from within. It is with that in mind that she rediscovers her true armor. She determines there is no time to sit and watch for the next attack. She must prepare and press on.