As you know, most of my art is abstract. When I have painted faces over the years, most of them are cheerful or playful or emanate a spiritual teacher vibe. But not all; there is another group that I loosely think of as angry warriors.

Perhaps it’s the Epstein files. Perhaps it’s all that’s happening and my constant search for an effective role for change. Or perhaps it is the arrival of the Chinese Year of the Fire Horse. But in any case I was drawn to pull these “warriors” out and look at them together. Though I was afraid their rage would be hard to take.

What I saw was more complicated. And reassuring.

I asked each one to tell me about herself.

You underestimate us at your peril. We have no need for histrionics, nor can we be intimidated or controlled. We see your false ideology, but we fearlessly and quietly live our truth at every moment.

I will suit up and do battle to protect my child, or to protect anyone or anyplace in my orbit that is in danger. My eyes are open and my senses clear to discern my next right move.

Our vision is wide and deep because of our inherent gifts from the Otherworld and because we bring the fresh perspective of Outsiders. We are compelled to speak the truths that we see.

Anger is tricky, especially for women (we’re not supposed to show any). But these  creations don’t seem to be acting out spontaneous rage, as I feared. Instead they seem fueled by righteous anger, their grounded response to counter lies with truth, to refuse to collaborate with what is wrong, and to steadfastly act according to their values. A more nuanced view of what a “warrior” is.

The last two that seemed to go with this group had a larger message for me. 

My passion burns hot, fed by underground rivers of Blood and Truth. As I sing the wisdom that courses through me it creates a fountain of Creativity. Fueling transformation of fire and earth into new possibility, the birth of new life.

It seems important that I see not only the heat and the power, but also the fountain, the spirals and sparks, and the egg. And that she is singing, not yelling.

The final one has the ultimate view, I guess.

I just am, inseparable from All, servant of Life. My actions arise from forces bigger than the human realm. Like water, I can be diverted or dammed for a bit, but I will always find my way to the sea.

I’m thankful for this exercise. Now when I see these faces I can remember the difference between fighting rage and righteous anger. The great power and service to the world in knowing one’s values, refusing to be riled, and weaving the song of what matters throughout one’s days. And that we are not in charge, anyway, of this mysterious complexity that is Life. 

PS. Interesting synchronicity today: I got an email about The Great Mother March, something that’s been in the planning stages for more than a year. It’s not a protest but a walk to establish connection with the earth, with others, and restore balance between the masculine and feminine. Not a protest but a “living prayer,”“in service to life, love and the Great Mother who lives in us all.”  You can find info and how to participate here.

(If you are seeing this in an email and the formatting is weird, do read on the website page instead  for proper formatting.)