I Am A Warrior Of Light & So Are You.
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I’m not meditating like I usually do: I’m not sitting daily in silence on my little meditation cushion, in my little meditation corner.
Of all times, now is the time to do it. I’m in the middle of doing a daily meditation email with a group of women. We meditate daily (or daily in my case), email the group and let them know how the experience was.
It’s become more of a space to share our darkness — pushing it out of ourselves and exposing and transmuting it to light — than it is a space to share the mechanics of our meditation experience that day (though we share that, too).
It looks a little like this:
Person A: “Hi. I’m hurting. Here is why I’m hurting. Here, in my hands for you to see and sort through, are the broken pieces of my heart. I’m hurting. You’re here. Thank you. I love you.”
Person B: “You’re hurting. I see that you’re hurting. I acknowledge it, love it, honor it, bear witness to it. But these pieces of your heart? They’re not broken. See? Here’s the thread. It’s already woven through each piece so that it can be stitched back together. Here, let me help you.
I know a great stitch that will make it even stronger than it was before it broke. I see that you’re hurting, I see you, and I honor you.”
It’s really beautiful. It’s raw and validating and exposing and pretty fucking badass. These women are warriors. They don’t know it really. But they are.
I guess I’ve forgotten that I’m a warrior, too.
I’ve become wrapped up in other things. Healthy things. Fulfilling things.
My Reiki practice is picking up. Every week I have my hands on several beautiful humans, reaching into their souls and feeling the depth of their beingness. I see their pain, and their darkness, and their confusion. I also see their light; the pure, raw God-essence seeping out of their pores.
At the end of every session I bow at their feet, honoring the divinity that they are. It is a tremendous thing to be a part of.
I’m teaching Yoga more often too. The fear that I imagined would be there when leading people through their practice, just isn’t. I swell with courage. I feel fierce. With reverence, I witness my students — numbering anywhere from two to seventy — pouring themselves out onto their mats.
I hold space for them, for whatever it is they’re experiencing. I walk away feeling lighter, enlightened, and glowing from within.
I have a friend who regularly reminds me that I’m a badass. I went through a period during which I was afraid, and felt small. I knew it was fear, and I knew it only had a voice if I let it have one, and I decided to let it have a voice. A small one. Just enough to introduce confusion.
To make me wonder, to make me shrink, just a little, to close in and question myself.
He said it plainly, with spoken words, and with conviction reverberating from his lips: you are a fucking badass. Trust. Trust. Trust. No questions. Just trust.
He believes in me.
So many people believe in me. And I don’t mean that people worship me or put me on a pedestal. I’m far too real for that. People believe in me because they watch as I stumble, and as I get up, and as I smile and say, that was cool. People believe in me because I let them see so much of me. I don’t hide behind a veil of perfection.
Once upon a time, I built a whole life behind that veil, and when I finally woke up, I panicked because that veil was hiding my light from you, and most importantly, from me. So I pulled the veil down, violently and with fervor, and let the light and the tears and the blood and the wounds and the pure raw fucking essence spill out.
I released myself from the prison of the picture perfect box I’d built.
Fuck that box.
So yeah, I’m not meditating like I usually do. It’s not a daily occurrence right now.
But I do meditate every day… I do.
Every day, I give Reiki, or I teach or practice Yoga, or I revel in the beauty of someone else, or I take the time to breathe with my full body, or I rock out a 2.5-minute plank, or I have spiritually charged sex, or I have a conversation that lights me on fire.
Or I sit quietly, cross-legged, with fingers in gyan mudra, eyes closed, and have an old-fashioned sit.
Meditation has ceased to be something that I do. It is something that I am. The light that we meditate to find courses through my veins all the time.
Those of us who meditate — we aren’t the soft, cushy, love-soaked teddy bears that people conjure up when they imagine an enlightened person.
We are raw. We are fierce.
We are probably more fucked up than you.
And we take that fucked-upness, and we rip it out of our chests, covered in our own warrior blood with light pouring out of the cracks and crevices, and we hold it triumphantly over our heads and say, “Here! Here it is. I am not ashamed.”
I am not ashamed.
I am not afraid.
I am not going to shrink, ever.
I am a light in this world. I am a Goddess. I am pure and raw and real and soft and full of awe and wonder. I bask in my light, and I bask in yours, even if you can’t see it.
I am a warrior.
And yeah, so are you.
*****
Jessica Knott is an avid spiritual seeker, semi-accomplished yogi, and steadfast believer in the power and beauty of the human experience. Vulnerability, authenticity and passionate self-expression are her drugs of choice. She is a Baltimore-based Yoga teacher and Reiki master. You could connect with her on Facebook or Instagram.
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