The Pen is mightier than the Sword

All my life I have been a fighter.  Fighting for Truth, Justice, what is Fair, what is Right.  I have approached the world always with the Sword held in defence before me and have always attacked first, and asked questions later.  This has been my stance, my modus operandi and my path.  But too often I have fallen on my own sword and damaged myself.

That’s the trouble with swords, they are sharp and I have always had a propensity to cut myself . . .

For much of my life I was ignorant of how I approached the world, but over the last few years I have seen my stance clearly.  I justified it to myself  as somewhat noble, very Joan of Arc.  But over the last year or so I have become aware of my aggression and the warrior stance with which I approach everything and everyone and I have become tired of the raging and the warring and have begged for this burden to be taken from me.

This year the weight of myself has become too much for to carry any further and I have sought to lighten the load, change and finally be happy.  To shed so much of myself that has become untenable, uncomfortable or outmoded.

In the scariest day on the top of the mountain where I battled with myself in a duel to the death I felt a great load lifted from me and the raging darkness disappeared into the ether.  A month or so later I was in the shed sobbing after yet another session with my punch bag, tired, so tired of feeling angry again.

And I saw myself so clearly, sword in hands.  I saw all the lifetimes I have carried it as a warrior spirit.   And I realised that I could, in fact, choose to lay it down and be finally free of the weight of it.  So I did.  And felt naked, exposed, vulnerable, open and unprotected.  And I was told ‘write’ as my way of venting, communicating, of working my way through and around the world.

I was given a cliche ‘the pen is mightier than the sword’ and handed a pen to replace the silver sword lying at my feet.  It didn’t feel like much to protect myself with!  A tiny little pen in my hand, no weight at all, hardly a good thing to arm yourself with in battle!  But for life, it is easier and more comfortable.  Much lighter to carry!  Maybe I am finally learning to travel light . . .

Rather than being a battler I can accept myself as a writer and use the pen as my path to justice, truth and honour.  Weigh my words rather than the double edged sword.  Use my wit and intelligence as my rapier and hide behind the blank page or foray forward into the world with words as my vehicle and pathway.

I am a writer in my heart and soul.  I need to write like others need to breathe.  I lay down my sword, expose my heart and take up my pen . . . thankfully, gratefully, at last . . .

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