The Beauty Way…Not the Warrior’s Way

A note of warning: In this story, I share about a personal sexual violation I experienced years ago, which could be triggering to some. My intention in sharing about this experience is to provide personal and collective healing.  

Earlier this month, an experience happened where I was silenced and made to feel powerless by a medical professional. After the experience, my body began to shake as I truly had no idea what to do. I could see the abuse of power that had unfolded in the interaction, but felt helpless in the face of it. Full of rage, I did the only thing I could think of. I went outside, sat on a patch of thyme, and became still and quiet. In that stillness, I noticed how the rage was coming up from my womb. It felt like a fire. But I also noticed how incredibly weak my body felt, particularly my arms. They felt limp and fragile, like all the life force had been sucked from them. In that moment, I realized the rage and weakness that I felt were not simply manifesting from this current experience, but were rooted in something deeper.

Intuitively, I got up and grabbed my pastels and sketchbook to discover what memory was stored in my arms that was causing me to feel this weakness. I started by simply asking the question, What memory is stored within you arms? I closed my eyes and intuitively began to move a pastel across the page, allowing myself to become a channel for whatever memory wanted to be known. Within a few minutes of entering the creative process, a memory presented itself.  

I was taken back to a memory that I had completely forgotten. The memory was of me in my early 20s during my second year of university, inside a tent with another male student. The memory was presenting itself now, because it was inside that tent where I was made to feel silenced and powerless, just as I was made to feel silenced and powerless with the medical professional now. Although the situation now was completely different, the felt experience within my body was the same. I was being guided to heal this original memory, so that I could reclaim my voice and my power.

I will begin by sharing the memory and then how I was guided to heal it and reclaim my power.

It was in the late fall of 2013 that I was invited by the vice president of the student union to go camping for the weekend outside of Halifax, for there was going to be a student political event nearby. I felt that he invited me because I had just started up the university’s first farmers market, and he thought I might be interested in attending the event. Excited to get to see another part of Nova Scotia, and less excited about the political event, I agreed. He offered to share his tent with me, as I didn’t have one. I said yes as I thought of our relationship as completely platonic. He had a girlfriend, and I thought of him simply as an ally, as it was with his support that I got the farmers' market up and running so easily. However, that night in his tent, he came onto me unexpectedly. Anxiety arose within me, and my intuition was told me to speak up and leave. But I felt helpless as it was dark, and I didn’t have a car to leave. I froze, stayed silent, and my arms went limp. I will leave the story there.

With tears streaming down my face for this younger version of myself, I continued to draw, asking my artwork more questions. One of which was, How can I heal this younger woman? In drawing, it came through for me to use my voice. It made so much sense! For it was not using my voice back then that had caused me to feel the rage in my womb and weakness in my body now. The creative process felt complete, and I felt like I had received the guidance I had needed. I was being called to use my voice to speak up to this medical professional.

So, I went through the process to file a formal complaint against them. The process was emotionally exhausting, but empowering. However, a week later, the weakness in my arms manifested again in another situation. I truly could feel my body shrinking in on itself. I was confused because I felt like I had used my voice, so why was the memory still stuck?

Rather than getting still and quiet and going to my art, I tried to force the memory out through force. I began to do push-ups and then went outside to do sprints. I thought if I strengthened my body, it would make the weakness go away. I came back inside, exhausted. Still with the weakness in my arms, I went to sleep. However, just before dozing off, a rush of anxiety hit me.

I have learned now, although sometimes I forget, that my anxiety is not a predator trying to hijack my system, but a part of me that has been wounded, fragmented or broken, wanting to be reclaimed.

So, I got out of bed and went to my sketchbook once again. I opened to a blank page, rested my hands on the paper and asked my anxiety what it wanted me to know. I breathed and listened, and when I felt ready, I opened my eyes. I grabbed a pastel and began to move my hand across the page intuitively. As I drew, I felt an inner voice tell me that my path to healing is not through force and aggression, but through self-expression. It isn’t The Warrior’s Way, but The Beauty Way.

The Warrior’s Way has been a path that I have been unconsciously travelling for years. It is a path where, when fear, anxiety and rage have arisen, I have sprung into action to try to overcome those same emotions. As a result, I have pushed myself to physical, mental and emotional limits, telling myself that it was what was required to overcome the pain. However, I was being guided now to let this way go. My art was telling me that this way has never been and will never be mine.

The Warrior’s Way that I had been travelling is a wounded masculine one that overrides our emotions and bypasses our bodies through force. This way directly denies the intuitive knowing of our divine feminine essence that speaks to us through our emotions and our bodies. The Beauty Way that I am being called to remember, live and lead is a way that has the divine masculine rise within us. It calls on our divine masculine to welcome and hold all of our emotions, and listen and act upon the intuitive guidance of our bodies. In doing so, we are no longer suppressing or bypassing our difficult emotions, but meeting and transforming them. We, in turn, reclaim parts of ourselves and welcome our divine feminine essence home.

The Beauty Way asks us to take our pain and transform it into our pleasure. This means not to resist, contract or fight through uncomfortable emotions when they arise, but to expand, feel and express them. From this space, we can ask the difficult emotions that are arising, how they long to be expressed. They may want to be expressed through stillness, stretching, shaking, singing, scribbling, drawing or dancing, to name a few. In doing so, we allow the parts of us that have been silenced and cut off to speak and be known.  

As I continued to draw, my anxiety subsided, so I took the time once again to ask how I could heal the weakness in my arms. Again, my art showed me to use my voice. However, this time I understood that this younger, silenced self wanted me to share my voice and her story to help others liberate their voices and heal their stories.

As I write this, the weakness within my arms appears once again. It comes as no surprise, as it feels easier to stay silent about what happened, rather than to share it publicly. I don’t know if sharing my story will make the weakness and powerlessness cease altogether. However, I do know that every time I listen to and intuitively respond to the guidance of my emotions and body, a piece of me comes home. The first step I needed to take in this healing process was to speak up against the medical professional by filing a formal complaint and sharing my story and The Beauty Way is the next step. In time, the next one will be revealed.

In sharing my story, I am transforming the fiery rage that was within my womb into a holy and sacred fire of healing.

It can feel scary to meet our difficult emotions as they arise, as we feel like our bodies are fighting against us, trying to sabotage our carefully crafted lives. Howeer, they are only trying to wake us up and bring us home.

I love you dear sister, all of you. I cannot wait for us to reclaim the parts of us that have been fragmented, cut off and broken, so that the world gets to know the powerful women that we are.

With love,
Laurel